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Silva Gu's vision darts over vast expanses of dense fields, searching for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He utters a muted voice as we try to find a concealed position in the fields. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was extending over half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a tiny bird was desperately trying to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Initially, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and launched a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also led to tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

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

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He recalls wandering in 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 fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not protected zones to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I followed this course," he says.

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

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

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are prepared for 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 devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He studies aerial photos to find the paths created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.

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

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the fines to deter the activity 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 status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

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

A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The area by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

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