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The activist's vision darts over vast expanses of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the grasslands. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

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

They have benefited from the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to southern locales to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

The patch of grassland where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was extending over a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was desperately trying to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"In the early days, there was little interest," he remarks.

So he gathered a team who did care and launched a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

He remembers roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not protected zones to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

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

It has not been an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"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 held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky 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 commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He examines satellite imagery to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes 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 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 reckons the penalties to deter the activity do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

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

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity 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 tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He tells 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 established a niche trade.

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

We were told that wild songbirds 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 troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had gathered 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 sales because the police had appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his