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Silva Gu's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of dense fields, searching for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as we try to find a place of cover in the fields. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

Overhead, countless migratory birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow cross through China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"In the early days, no-one cared," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers exploring the fields on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not protected zones to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the habitats they supported.

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

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," 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 army of volunteers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

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

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He studies aerial photos to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species command a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. 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 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds had to die 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 inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

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

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

But today there would be no sales 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