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

He speaks in less than a whisper as we try to find a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing slumbers on. As we wait, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky turns a shade lighter ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

Across the heavens, countless migratory birds, many so small that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming insects and fruit. As the year winds down and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they are flying to warmer places to nest and feed.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, which is about 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the city skies offer scant chance to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was extending over half the length of the field and held up with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was fighting hard to free his legs, but the more it struggled, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Hunting the Hunters

This activist, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has forgone many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to enforce the law.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he recruited volunteers who were concerned and formed a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and brought in the heads of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion have shown results. The police discovered that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of criminal activity.

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

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He recalls wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he encountered 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 transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"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. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who confronted me and beat me up," Silva remembers. He says he went 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 requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says not many are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to address this major issue, you must devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations pays for some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan a year – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He examines aerial photos to find the paths created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

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

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have inherited the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

Another man stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth about 1900 yuan.

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

The path alongside the water 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 purchased in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker in a shaded area where a troop of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by black fabric.

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