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Silva Gu's eyes scan across miles of tall grassland, searching for any movement in the inky blackness.

He utters a muted voice as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the open area. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, there is the crunch of footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

Across the heavens, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the extended daylight in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year winds down and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they head to warmer places to nest and feed.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, representing roughly 13% of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow intersect in China.

This particular field in question, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was strung across a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was struggling frantically to escape, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Back in 2015, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he gathered a team who did care and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and brought in the officials of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

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

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I decided back then to work in conservation and I took this path," 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 gathered 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 requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the paths created 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.

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

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime 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 imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are breaking the law, 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 growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're really hard to change."

Busted

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

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

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

The area by the river stretches for 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. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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