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Silva Gu's gaze sweeps over vast expanses of dense fields, looking for signs of life in the early morning gloom.

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

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough 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, eating bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major paths they follow cross through China.

The area of meadow where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was strung across half the length of the field and held up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a small finch was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Back in 2015, there was little interest," he says.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that the response is not uniform.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

He remembers roaming through the grasslands 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 fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not conservation areas to preserve.

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

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

It has not been an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. 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 cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He studies satellite imagery to find the paths created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show netting setups which can catch hundreds of small birds at night.

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

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines 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 status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

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

The area alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested 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 performing a traditional 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 today there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his