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The activist's eyes scan over miles of dense fields, searching for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they head to warmer places to breed and eat.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow converge in China.

This particular field in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so thin you can hardly spot them.

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his own savings. 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.

"Initially, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police discovered that catching poachers also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

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

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

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

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not conservation areas to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I took this path," he says.

It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled 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 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.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

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

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos 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 lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.

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

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

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

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader 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 informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. The location was not concealed.

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 over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

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