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The activist's gaze sweeps across miles of open meadows, searching for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He utters less than a whisper as the team seeks a concealed position in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

In the skies above us, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

There are 1500-plus bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major migration routes they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across a large section of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was desperately trying to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he gathered a team who did care and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and brought in the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.

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

He recalls roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I followed this course," he says.

It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his associates who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines satellite imagery to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva argues the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

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

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The area by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

We were told that protected birds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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