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Silva Gu's eyes scan across miles of dense fields, searching for any movement in the inky blackness.

He utters less than a whisper as the team seeks a concealed position in the grasslands. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

Across the heavens, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to southern locales to breed and eat.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the global population – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across a large section of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was desperately trying to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he gathered a team who were concerned and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

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

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as empty places to build, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

This has not made for an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered 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 the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the paths worn away 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 capture 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 environmental regulations in place, Silva argues the penalties to deter the activity do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build elaborate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Busted

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

Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

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 small park. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

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