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Silva Gu's gaze sweeps across miles of open meadows, looking for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He utters a hushed tone as the team seeks a spot to hide in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, the only sound is our own breath.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Trapped

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they head to warmer places to find food and shelter.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

This particular field where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so delicate you can hardly spot them.

A net we almost encountered was stretched across a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was fighting hard to escape, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, 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 persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Back in 2015, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and established a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and invited the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police discovered 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.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He recalls exploring the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not conservation areas to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I chose this direction," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. 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 remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"This is my full-time commitment," 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 fundraising 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 hunt the hunters.

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

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

Although 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.

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

It's a tradition that persists mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals often lacked 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 no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

We were told that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

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