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Silva Gu's vision darts across miles of open meadows, hunting for any movement in the inky blackness.

He utters a muted voice as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only our own breath.

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

Snared

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they head to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

There are 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.

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

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

The one we nearly walked into was extending over half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. At its center, a tiny bird was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

This activist, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Back in 2015, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police found that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, adding the caveat that the response is not uniform.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

He recalls roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not conservation areas to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to pursue environmental protection and I followed this course," he says.

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

"He assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of 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 made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats 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 believes 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 generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the imperial era. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"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. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby 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 is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

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 dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered 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 sales because the police had appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his