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Silva Gu's eyes scan over miles of dense fields, searching for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to warmer places to breed and eat.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow converge in China.

This particular field where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was extending over a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a small finch was desperately trying to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Hunting the Hunters

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he gathered a team who were concerned and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and brought in the officials of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that the response is not uniform.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

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

Industrialization brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not conservation areas to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

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

It has not been an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered 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 reported to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky 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 give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He examines satellite imagery to find the trails worn away 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 during darkness.

"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 fines to punish the crime do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading 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 for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. 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 inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once people's attitudes are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader 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 quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

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

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

But on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. 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