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Silva Gu's eyes scan across miles of open meadows, looking for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He utters less than a whisper as the team seeks a spot to hide in the fields. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, there is the crunch of footsteps. The poachers are here.

Caught

In the skies above us, a multitude of winged travelers, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have taken advantage of the extended daylight in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the early cold of winter, they head to more temperate climates to breed and eat.

China is home to more than 1,500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the global population – over eight hundred of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major paths they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – any further and the city skies offer few options to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

The trap we stumbled upon was strung across a large section of the field and supported with wooden sticks. At its center, a meadow pipit was desperately trying to untangle itself, 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" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its habitat.

Pursuing the Poachers

Silva, who is in his 30s, performs this duty for free using his own savings. He has sacrificed many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"Initially, authorities were indifferent," he says.

So he recruited volunteers who did care and established a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He organized public meetings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police realized that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life began during childhood. He grew up in the nineties in a very different Beijing.

He recalls exploring the grasslands 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 fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, 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 work in conservation and I followed this course," he says.

This has not made for 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 accomplices who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible 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 challenging and occasionally risky job.

"This is my full-time commitment," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to tackle this challenge, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies satellite imagery to find the trails worn away by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may stop for the night. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can catch scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a high price," Silva says. "In urban centers like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now quite wealthy."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the penalties to deter the activity do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

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

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are committing a wildlife crime, or understand that numerous birds had to die in a trap so they could buy a caged bird.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat in their youth. 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 little opportunity to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

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

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

This offers a view 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 shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

We were told that protected birds could be bought in a nearby green space. The location was not concealed.

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 multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by 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. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his