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Silva Gu's eyes scan across miles of open meadows, searching for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in less than a whisper 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.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to warmer places to find food and shelter.

There are over 1500 bird species, which is about 13% of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so fine you can barely see them.

The one we nearly walked into was extending over half the length of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, there was little interest," he remarks.

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

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that implementation remains inconsistent.

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not sanctuaries to preserve.

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

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I took this path," he says.

It has not been an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

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

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous 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 cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 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 examines satellite imagery to find the trails worn away by the poachers. He charts these 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 hundreds of small birds at night.

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

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

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

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, 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 habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The path alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be purchased in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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