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Silva Gu's gaze sweeps across vast expanses of open meadows, looking for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as we try to find a spot to hide in the fields. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they journey to warmer places to nest and feed.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major migration routes they follow converge in China.

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

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

A net we almost encountered was strung across a large section of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Initially, no-one cared," he says.

So he gathered a team who did care and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that enforcement is still patchy.

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

He remembers wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not protected zones to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I took this path," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work demands stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines satellite imagery to find the paths created 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 netting setups which can capture hundreds 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 keep birds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the fines to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. 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 later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous 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 some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

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

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

We were told that wild songbirds could be bought in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional 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 dark cloth.

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