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Silva Gu's vision darts over miles of open meadows, searching for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a muted voice as they attempt to locate a concealed position in the open area. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

Overhead, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to southern locales to nest and feed.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

This particular field where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was extending over a large section of the field and held up with wooden sticks. At its center, a tiny bird was desperately trying to untangle itself, but the more it struggled, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Pursuing the Poachers

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"In the early days, there was little interest," he states.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held public meetings and invited the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police realized that catching poachers also led to identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became partially aligned," Silva says, adding the caveat that implementation remains inconsistent.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

He recalls wandering in the grasslands on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Industrialization brought millions of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were considered land for construction, not protected zones 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 followed this course," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he went to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also lost 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 made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

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

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He examines satellite imagery to find the trails 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 capture scores of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

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

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among retired men in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"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 little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several tiny enclosures with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly 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 path by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

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

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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