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Silva Gu's vision darts across miles of open meadows, searching for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a hushed tone as we try to find a concealed position in the grasslands. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the extended daylight in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

There are over 1500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow converge in China.

This particular field where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a small finch was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Back in 2015, authorities were indifferent," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers exploring the grasslands 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 rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not protected zones to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection and I chose this direction," he says.

This has not made for 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 assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes 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 aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species command a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

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

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures 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 quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have established a niche trade.

The area by the river stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that protected birds could be purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, 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 appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his