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Silva Gu's eyes scan over miles of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the inky blackness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the open area. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only 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

Overhead, billions of birds, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the long summer days in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to warmer places to find food and shelter.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so thin you can almost miss them.

The one we nearly walked into was strung across a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

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

So he enlisted helpers who did care and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

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

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not protected zones to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

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

It has not been an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he went 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 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 made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the paths created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can catch scores of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate 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 committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

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

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

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

The path by the river stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

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