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Silva Gu's vision darts across vast expanses of tall grassland, searching for suspicious activity in the early morning gloom.

He utters a muted voice as the team seeks a place of cover in the grasslands. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

In the skies above us, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the first frosts of winter, they head to warmer places to breed and eat.

There are 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.

This particular field being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across half the length of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, does this work for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he says.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and established a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers wandering in the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not protected zones to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.

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

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

"He assembled several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. 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 address this major issue, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the paths 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 lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a high price," 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 deter the activity do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet 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.

This custom 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 numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan 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 interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his