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Silva Gu's gaze sweeps across miles of open meadows, searching for any movement in the early morning gloom.

He speaks in less than a whisper as we try to find a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is our own breath.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

In the skies above us, 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 benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the first frosts of winter, they head to warmer places to nest and feed.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so thin you can almost miss them.

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Pursuing the Poachers

The conservationist, in his thirties, performs this duty for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

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

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and established a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

This fascination with birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

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

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 preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.

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

This has not made for an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went 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 prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

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

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes 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 capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to deter the activity do not exceed the financial benefits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual is positioned near 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 established a niche trade.

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

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

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group 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 black fabric.

But today there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. 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