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Silva Gu's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the fields. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is our own breath.

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

Caught

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

There are over 1500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the global population – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.

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

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

A net we almost encountered was extending over half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a small finch was struggling frantically to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, no-one cared," he says.

So he gathered a team who did care and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and brought in the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that implementation remains inconsistent.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He recalls exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from 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 sanctuaries to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I took this path," he says.

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

"He gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

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

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He examines 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 stop for the night. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people 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 don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

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

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 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 typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

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