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Silva Gu's vision darts over vast expanses of tall grassland, looking for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the open area. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, the only sound is our own breath.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to southern locales to nest and feed.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

The patch of grassland in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so thin you can almost miss them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a small finch was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his own savings. He has forgone many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

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

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, noting that enforcement is still patchy.

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

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

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not sanctuaries to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.

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

It has not been an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated 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 held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. 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 solve this big problem, 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 found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines aerial photos to find the routes created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"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."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh 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 ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more 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 some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

Another man stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets 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 performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

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