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

He speaks in a muted voice as they attempt to locate a place of cover in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The poachers are here.

Caught

Overhead, billions of birds, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in northern regions, consuming insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they journey to southern locales to nest and feed.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major paths they follow intersect in China.

This particular field in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so fine you can hardly spot them.

The one we nearly walked into was strung across half the length of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he says.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and launched a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

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

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a much changed capital.

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

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not conservation areas to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

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

"He gathered several of his associates who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many 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 covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He studies aerial photos to find the routes 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 netting setups which can capture hundreds 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 argues the penalties to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

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

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a small park. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

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