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Silva Gu's vision darts over vast expanses of dense fields, searching for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He utters a muted voice as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Trapped

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they head to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so fine you can hardly spot them.

A net we almost encountered was strung across half the length of the field and held up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to escape, 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 population is healthy, so is its environment.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"In the early days, there was little interest," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and launched a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and brought in the leaders 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 tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

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

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not conservation areas to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I took this path," he says.

It has not been an easy life. 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 surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission 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 – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines aerial photos to find the paths created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits 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 imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes 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.

A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing 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 black fabric.

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