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The activist's vision darts across vast expanses of tall grassland, hunting for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as the team seeks a spot to hide in the fields. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

Overhead, countless migratory birds, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the long summer days in northern regions, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

This particular field being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so delicate you can almost miss 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 struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

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

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

He recalls exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not conservation areas to preserve.

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

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

It has not been an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

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

He has also lost his team of helpers 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.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes 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 rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds 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 generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

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

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

But today there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his