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The activist's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of tall grassland, searching for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as we try to find a place of cover in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to southern locales to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow cross through China.

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

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

A net we almost encountered was stretched across half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he states.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and brought in the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police found that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

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

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

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

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not protected zones to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

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

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

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

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the paths created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a high price," 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 penalties to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

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

We were told that protected birds could be bought in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

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 in their later years, had gathered 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 appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his