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The activist's eyes scan across vast expanses of tall grassland, searching for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a hushed tone as we try to find a spot to hide in the grasslands. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

There are 1500-plus bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major paths they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so thin you can hardly spot them.

A net we almost encountered was stretched across half the length of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to escape, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Back in 2015, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He recalls wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I took this path," he says.

It has not been an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He studies satellite imagery to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

But on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his