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Silva Gu's gaze sweeps over miles of open meadows, searching for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in less than a whisper as the team seeks a concealed position in the fields. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the first frosts of winter, they journey to southern locales to find food and shelter.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland in question, on the edges 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 also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so delicate you can barely see them.

The trap we stumbled upon was stretched across half the length of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was desperately trying to escape, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Hunting the Hunters

Silva, who is in his 30s, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last 10 years persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Back in 2015, authorities were indifferent," he says.

So he gathered a team who were concerned and formed a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held public meetings and invited the heads of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of advocacy seem to have paid off. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also led to uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

He recalls exploring the fields on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, everything changed."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not protected zones 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 took this path," he says.

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered 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 team of helpers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

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

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies satellite imagery to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show netting setups 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 keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva believes 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 generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat growing up. 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 the environment. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to dentures.

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

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, 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 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