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Silva Gu's eyes scan over vast expanses of tall grassland, looking for any movement in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a muted voice as we try to find a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten before dawn, the sound of footsteps emerges. Illegal trappers are present.

Caught

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have utilized the extended daylight in northern regions, feasting on bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they journey to southern locales to breed and eat.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland where we were, on the outskirts of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over half the length of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. At its center, a meadow pipit was fighting hard to escape, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

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

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has forgone many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, there was little interest," he says.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and formed a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized community gatherings and brought in the officials of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of advocacy have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that the response is not uniform.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

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

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This expansion meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not conservation areas to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the wildlife they housed.

"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 being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must give it your all. You can't do it part-time."

He says fundraising pays for some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the routes created 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 lines of net traps which can catch hundreds of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of catching and selling 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.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Busted

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

Another man is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

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

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting 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 gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

But on this occasion there would be no sales because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and taking names. Unyielding, one man said he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his