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Silva Gu's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of tall grassland, hunting for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He utters a muted voice as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

In the skies above us, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to warmer places to find food and shelter.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

This particular field where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so fine you can barely see them.

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"In the early days, no-one cared," he says.

So he gathered a team who did care and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police discovered that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

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

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

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

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered areas for development, not protected zones to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I chose this direction," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of 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.

"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 donations covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies 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 lines of net traps which can catch hundreds of small birds at night.

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

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to deter the activity 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 dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

We were told that protected birds could be bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had congregated 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 appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his