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Silva Gu's gaze sweeps over miles of dense fields, searching for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a muted voice as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the fields. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they head to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow cross through China.

This particular field in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to free his legs, 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 numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

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

So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized 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 led to identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

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

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

He remembers exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not protected zones to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising covers 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 track the poachers.

He examines satellite imagery to find the routes worn away 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 catch scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly 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 area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, 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.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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