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Silva Gu's gaze sweeps across miles of open meadows, looking for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

He utters a hushed tone as we try to find a concealed position in the open area. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

In the skies above us, 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 extended daylight in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to warmer places to find food and shelter.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow cross through China.

This particular field in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among clusters of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so delicate you can barely see them.

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he recruited volunteers who did care and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that enforcement is still patchy.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He remembers roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he discovered 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 considered empty places to build, not conservation areas to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I followed this course," 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 assembled several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He examines satellite imagery to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds at night.

"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."

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

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

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous 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 keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

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

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

We were told that wild songbirds could be bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

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 gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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