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Silva Gu's vision darts across vast expanses of tall grassland, searching for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He utters less than a whisper as the team seeks a place of cover in the grasslands. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Caught

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, which is about 13% of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland in question, on the outskirts 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 "fine nets", so thin you can barely see them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and established a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He was raised 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. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not protected zones to conserve.

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

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

It has not been an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

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

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers 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 solve this big problem, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos to find the trails created 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 capture hundreds of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

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

The path by the river extends over 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 purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group 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 appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his