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Silva Gu's eyes scan across miles of open meadows, looking for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the open area. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is our own breath.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

This particular field being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity 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.

The one we nearly walked into was extending over half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – 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 sacrificed many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police discovered that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that implementation remains inconsistent.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

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

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not protected zones to conserve.

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

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I took this path," 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 assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are willing to take on 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 pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the trails 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 lines of net traps which can catch hundreds 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 quite wealthy."

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

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Busted

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

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

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.

We were told that wild songbirds could be bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had congregated 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 interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his