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Silva Gu's eyes scan across vast expanses of dense fields, searching for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters less than a whisper as the team seeks a concealed position in the fields. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

Overhead, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in northern regions, consuming insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow cross through China.

The area of meadow where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so fine you can almost miss them.

The one we nearly walked into was strung across a large section of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"In the early days, there was little interest," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and established a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and brought in the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became partially aligned," 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 much changed capital.

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

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not protected zones to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I followed this course," he says.

It has not been 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 associates who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his army of volunteers 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 made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the routes created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," 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 exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading 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 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 don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

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

This is a glimpse 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 shoppers browsing 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 group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

But on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his