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The activist's vision darts across miles of dense fields, hunting for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

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

Caught

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to warmer places to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow intersect in China.

This particular field where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so delicate you can almost miss them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to release trapped 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 gathered a team who were concerned and formed a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a much changed capital.

He recalls exploring the fields on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not protected zones to conserve.

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

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I followed this course," he says.

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

"He assembled several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says not many 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 solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

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 found new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the trails created 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 catch hundreds of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the penalties to deter the activity do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. 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 created their own market.

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

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 group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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