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Silva Gu's eyes scan over vast expanses of dense fields, hunting for any movement in the inky blackness.

He utters a hushed tone as we try to find a place of cover in the grasslands. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Caught

Overhead, countless migratory birds, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they head to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major flyways they follow converge 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 little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was extending over half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, 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 enforce the law.

"In the early days, no-one cared," he states.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and formed a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police realized that catching poachers also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

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

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

He remembers wandering in the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as land for construction, not conservation areas to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

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

It has not been an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

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.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

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

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos to find the routes created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds during darkness.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed 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 imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have inherited the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

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

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

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

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought 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 in their later years, 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 transactions because the police had appeared. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his