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Silva Gu's eyes scan across vast expanses of dense fields, searching for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as we try to find a place of cover in the fields. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

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

They have utilized the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to southern locales to nest and feed.

There are 1500-plus bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was extending over a large section of the field and held up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a small finch was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours 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 remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and launched a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of advocacy appear to have worked. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

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

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He recalls exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered 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 fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not protected zones to preserve.

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

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I followed this course," he says.

It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his associates who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes aerial photos to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds at night.

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

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the fines to deter the activity do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

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

A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

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