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

He speaks in a hushed tone as the team seeks a spot to hide in the grasslands. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky starts to lighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Trapped

Overhead, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have benefited from the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, feasting on insects and fruit. As the year winds down and icy winds bring the initial freeze of winter, they head to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

The nation hosts 1500-plus bird species, which is about 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Several of the major migration routes they follow converge in China.

This particular field being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer scant chance to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "fine nets", so fine you can hardly spot them.

A net we almost encountered was strung across a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. In the middle, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to escape, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

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

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 decade persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and formed a group known as the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized community gatherings and brought in the heads of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police realized that apprehending illegal hunters also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

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

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

China's booming economy brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as areas for development, not sanctuaries to conserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands began to shrink, as did the habitats they supported.

"I made the choice back then to pursue environmental protection and I chose this direction," 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 retaliated.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but the perpetrators were not held accountable.

He has also seen the departure of his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are willing to take on 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 devote yourself wholeheartedly. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the economic situation.

So he has adopted new ways to hunt the hunters.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the routes created 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 netting setups which can catch hundreds 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 often affluent."

Although there are environmental regulations in place, Silva reckons the fines to deter the activity 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 mark of prestige. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build elaborate bamboo cages to display 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 breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about the environment. Once adults' values are formed, they're extremely difficult to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

A separate individual is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where small unofficial traders have created their own market.

The area alongside the water extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

We were told that protected birds could be bought in a small park. 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. Close by several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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