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The activist's gaze sweeps over miles of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He utters a hushed tone as the team seeks a concealed position in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the extended daylight in northern regions, consuming insects and fruit. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they head to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major paths they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so delicate you can barely see them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Pursuing the Poachers

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he gathered a team who were concerned and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and brought in the heads of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police realized that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

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

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

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not sanctuaries to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I chose this direction," he says.

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

"He gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are prepared for 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 – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He studies aerial photos to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats 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 argues the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of catching and selling 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 ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path 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 small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

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 bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

But on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his