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Silva Gu's gaze sweeps over miles of tall grassland, looking for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He utters less than a whisper as the team seeks a place of cover in the fields. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten before dawn, we hear footsteps. The poachers are here.

Snared

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they journey to southern locales to find food and shelter.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow cross through China.

This particular field where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "barely visible nets", so thin you can almost miss them.

A net we almost encountered was stretched across a large section of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. At its center, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, does this work for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, no-one cared," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and invited the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police realized that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

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

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not sanctuaries to preserve.

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

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

It has not been an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his associates who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his army of volunteers 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 treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species command a premium," 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 fines to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that persists 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 were killed 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 practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

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

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

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

The path alongside the water extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting 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 congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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