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Silva Gu's eyes scan across miles of tall grassland, hunting for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in a muted voice as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they head to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

There are over 1500 bird species, which is about 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major migration routes they follow converge in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the city skies offer few options 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.

The one we nearly walked into was extending over half the length of the field and propped up 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 protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police realized that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He recalls roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not protected zones to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

It has not been an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

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

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky 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 a year – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies satellite imagery to find the trails created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

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

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

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

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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