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Silva Gu's vision darts over vast expanses of tall grassland, searching for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Caught

Across the heavens, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, which is about 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow converge in China.

This particular field where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so thin you can hardly spot them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over half the length of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was desperately trying to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and established a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

This fascination with 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. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not sanctuaries to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I took this path," 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 gathered several of his accomplices who surrounded 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 demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He studies satellite imagery to find the paths 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 catch scores of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

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

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

Another man stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The path by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area 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 concealed by black fabric.

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