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Silva Gu's vision darts over miles of dense fields, looking for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in less than a whisper as we try to find a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

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

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow converge in China.

This particular field being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the urban landscape 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 barely see them.

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across a large section of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. At its center, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to escape, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he gathered a team who did care and launched a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also led to tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat 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 remembers roaming through 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 expansion meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not protected zones to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, 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 discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

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

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people 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 solve this big problem, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 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 analyzes satellite imagery to find the routes created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. 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 urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits 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. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people 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 tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual stands outside a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

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

We were told that protected birds could be bought in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, 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 appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his