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Silva Gu's eyes scan over vast expanses of dense fields, hunting for any movement in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as we try to find a place of cover in the grasslands. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, the only sound is our own breath.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Trapped

Across the heavens, billions of birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the long summer days in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they are flying to warmer places to nest and feed.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, which is about 13% of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow intersect in China.

The patch of grassland being monitored, 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 forests of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so fine you can barely see them.

The one we nearly walked into was stretched across half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. In the middle, a tiny bird was desperately trying to escape, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

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

Pursuing the Poachers

This activist, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

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

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and established 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 small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a much changed capital.

He recalls wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from 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.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the habitats they supported.

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

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to solve this big problem, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations covers 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 track the poachers.

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 rest. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.

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

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes the penalties to deter the activity do not exceed the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

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

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

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area by the river stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

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

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in dark cloth.

But on this occasion 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