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

He speaks in a hushed tone as the team seeks a concealed position in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming insects and fruit. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to southern locales to breed and eat.

There are 1500-plus bird species, accounting for 13% of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major migration routes they follow converge in China.

This particular field being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven 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 hardly spot them.

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across half the length of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has forgone many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and launched a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and brought in the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also led to tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He recalls exploring the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not conservation areas to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I chose this direction," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

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

He says donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He examines aerial photos to find the trails worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can catch scores of small birds at night.

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

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

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

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly 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 by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a troop 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 dark cloth.

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