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Silva Gu's eyes scan over miles of open meadows, searching for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as we try to find a spot to hide in the grasslands. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

Overhead, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so delicate you can hardly spot them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, does this work for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also led to identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He recalls roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as empty places to build, not conservation areas to conserve.

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

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

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

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

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines satellite imagery to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can catch hundreds of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," 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 exceed the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous 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 inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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