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Silva Gu's vision darts across vast expanses of dense fields, looking for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the grasslands. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Trapped

Overhead, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to warmer places to nest and feed.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow cross through China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was strung across half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

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

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

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

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

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I took this path," he says.

It has not been an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. 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 solve this big problem, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He studies 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 aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a premium," 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 believes the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some generations 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 older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

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

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

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

We were told that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. 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. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

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