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

He speaks in a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the open area. 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 starts to lighten with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

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

They have benefited from the long summer days in northern regions, consuming insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to southern locales to nest and feed.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to escape, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he recruited volunteers who did care and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and brought in the heads of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.

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

He recalls roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation 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 being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show netting setups 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 quite wealthy."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the fines to deter the activity do not outweigh the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

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

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

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

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 traditional 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 arrived. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his