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Silva Gu's gaze sweeps across miles of tall grassland, looking for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as the team seeks a concealed position in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major migration routes they follow converge in China.

This particular field being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was strung across half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a tiny bird was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

This activist, performs this duty 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 enforce the law.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and established a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that implementation remains inconsistent.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s 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 protected zones to conserve.

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

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I chose this direction," 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 remembers. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky 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 can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising pays for 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 hunt the hunters.

He analyzes 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 stop for the night. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.

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

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the penalties to deter the activity 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. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand 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 practice 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 extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

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

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

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. 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 covered in dark cloth.

But on this occasion 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