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The activist's gaze sweeps across miles of open meadows, looking for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters less than a whisper as we try to find 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.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Caught

Overhead, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they head to southern locales to nest and feed.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was strung across half the length of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to escape, 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" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Pursuing the Poachers

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

"Initially, there was little interest," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and brought in the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

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

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not protected zones to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I chose this direction," he says.

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

"He assembled several of his accomplices who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous 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 give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He studies aerial photos to find the paths created 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 scores of small birds at night.

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

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet 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 for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds had to die 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 habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated 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 arrived. 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