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

He utters a hushed tone as the team seeks a spot to hide in the open area. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. 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 utilized the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

China is home to 1500-plus bird species, representing roughly 13% of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Several of the major paths they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across half the length of the field and held up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was fighting hard to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

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.

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Back in 2015, no-one cared," he remarks.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and invited the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that enforcement is still patchy.

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

He recalls exploring the grasslands on the city's edges where he encountered 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 began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I took this path," he says.

It has not been an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are willing to take on 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 tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He examines aerial photos to find the routes worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva argues the penalties 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 mark of prestige. This dates back to the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Disrupted

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

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to false teeth.

We were told that wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing 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 on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his