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Silva Gu's eyes scan across vast expanses of dense fields, searching for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a concealed position in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

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, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they head to warmer places to breed and eat.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, accounting for 13% 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 being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was strung across a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, 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 ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"In the early days, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and established a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and brought in the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

He remembers wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not sanctuaries to preserve.

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

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

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are willing to take on 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 solve this big problem, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He studies satellite imagery to find the paths created 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 during darkness.

"Certain prized species command 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 deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

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

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path alongside the water extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

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