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Silva Gu's eyes scan over miles of dense fields, looking for any movement 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 sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Trapped

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to southern locales to nest and feed.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow converge in China.

This particular field where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across half the length of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was desperately trying to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies 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 given up on many sleeping hours to release trapped 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 recruited volunteers who did care and established a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and invited the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police found that catching poachers also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

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

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not protected zones to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.

"I made the choice 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 being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He examines aerial photos to find the trails 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 satellite images can even show netting setups which can capture 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 keep birds are now often affluent."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva reckons the fines to deter the activity do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display 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 understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

Another man stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

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

The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

We were told that protected birds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

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

But on this occasion there would be no sales 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