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Silva Gu's vision darts across vast expanses of tall grassland, hunting for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as we try to find a spot to hide in the fields. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

Overhead, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they head to southern locales to nest and feed.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow intersect in China.

This particular field where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was stretched across half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Pursuing the Poachers

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he remarks.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

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

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

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

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as empty places to build, not sanctuaries to preserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands receded, 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 easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted 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 demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are prepared for 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 devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines aerial photos to find the trails created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds during darkness.

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

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

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 shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

We were told that wild songbirds 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 choreographing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple 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 taking names. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his