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The activist's gaze sweeps over miles of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a hushed tone as we try to find a concealed position in the open area. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow converge in China.

This particular field where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so delicate you can almost miss them.

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Back in 2015, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

He remembers wandering in the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not protected zones to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I chose this direction," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

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

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

Another man 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 offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors 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 old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

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

But today there would be no sales because the police had arrived. They were interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his