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Silva Gu's eyes scan over miles of open meadows, searching for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in less than a whisper as we try to find a place of cover in the fields. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

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

They have utilized the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, which is about 13% of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so fine you can barely see them.

The one we nearly walked into was extending over a large section of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. At its center, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, there was little interest," he says.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and established a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a much changed capital.

He remembers exploring the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not conservation areas to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I followed this course," 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 retaliated.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must give it your all. 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 economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores 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 wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet 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 to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

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

Busted

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

Another man 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 nearly 1900 yuan.

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

The path alongside the water extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

We were told that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional 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 today there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his