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The activist's vision darts over vast expanses of open meadows, looking for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a hushed tone as the team seeks a place of cover in the grasslands. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

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

Trapped

Overhead, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in northern regions, consuming insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they journey to southern locales to nest and feed.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow cross through China.

This particular field being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was stretched across a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. In the middle, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and established a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police realized that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

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

China's booming economy brought millions 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 decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I took this path," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

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

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines satellite imagery to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these 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 during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

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

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

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

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 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 people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing 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 dark cloth.

But on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his