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Silva Gu's gaze sweeps over miles of open meadows, searching for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters less than a whisper as the team seeks a spot to hide in the fields. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

Across the heavens, billions of birds, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so delicate you can almost miss them.

A net we almost encountered was stretched across a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Pursuing the Poachers

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he gathered a team who were concerned and established a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

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

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

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

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not sanctuaries to preserve.

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

"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection and I followed this course," 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 retaliated.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must give it your all. 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 developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies satellite imagery to find the routes created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a premium," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva argues the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

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

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

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

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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