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Silva Gu's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of tall grassland, looking for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He utters less than a whisper as we try to find a concealed position in the fields. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

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

Caught

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

They have benefited from the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so thin you can almost miss them.

A net we almost encountered was extending over a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to escape, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many nights of sleep 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, authorities were indifferent," he says.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also led to identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

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

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

He recalls exploring the grasslands 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 a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not sanctuaries to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection and I took this path," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. 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 demands stealth and sleepless nights. 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 tackle this challenge, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the routes created 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 netting setups which can capture scores 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 quite wealthy."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the penalties to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

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

The path by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested that protected birds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

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