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The activist's vision darts over vast expanses of open meadows, searching for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He utters less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the fields. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in northern regions, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to warmer places to find food and shelter.

There are over 1500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so thin you can barely see them.

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Pursuing the Poachers

The conservationist, in his thirties, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Back in 2015, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He recalls wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he found 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 fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not conservation areas to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I took this path," he says.

It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

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

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many 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 address this major issue, 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 support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He examines aerial photos to find the trails created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can capture scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

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

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

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

The area 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 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 traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

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