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Silva Gu's gaze sweeps over vast expanses of dense fields, hunting for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the fields. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

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

Trapped

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

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they head to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly 13% of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

This particular field in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so delicate you can barely see them.

The one we nearly walked into was extending over a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, carries out this mission 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 take this crime seriously.

"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police discovered that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

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

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not sanctuaries to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

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

"He assembled 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 patience and night vigils. 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 commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies satellite imagery to find the routes created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

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

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

But today there would be no transactions 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