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Silva Gu's vision darts across vast expanses of tall grassland, looking for suspicious activity in the inky blackness.

He utters less than a whisper as we try to find a concealed position in the open area. Behind us, the sprawling city of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten with the approaching day, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the extended daylight in northern regions, eating insects and fruit. As the year nears its end 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, accounting for thirteen percent of the world's total – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major flyways they follow cross through China.

The area of meadow being monitored, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "mist nets", so fine you can hardly spot them.

A net we almost encountered was strung across a large section of the field and propped up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a tiny bird was fighting hard to escape, but the more it moved, 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 population is healthy, so is its environment.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has given up on many nights of sleep to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last 10 years convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he enlisted helpers who did care and launched a group known as the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police realized that catching poachers also helped in tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

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

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a distinct era for the city.

He remembers roaming through the fields on the city's edges where he encountered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, everything changed."

Rapid economic growth brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were considered empty places to build, not conservation areas to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

"I made the choice back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I took this path," he says.

It has not been an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered 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 held accountable.

He has also lost his army of volunteers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says few people 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 found 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 rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture scores of small birds during darkness.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh the potential profits 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 Qing dynasty. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

This custom that continues mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says older Chinese people may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have inherited the practice of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Busted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader 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 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 path by the river stretches for several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

We were told 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 group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Close by several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

But today there would be no sales because the police had appeared. 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