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Silva Gu's vision darts across miles of tall grassland, hunting for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Snared

Across the heavens, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was strung across half the length of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. At its center, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and established a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and brought in the officials of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police found that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He recalls wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not protected zones to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

"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 under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

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

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He studies 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 rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can catch hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom 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 were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

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

A separate individual stands outside a local 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 traditional side of the city 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 vintage jewellery to false teeth.

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

Loud music played 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 multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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