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Silva Gu's vision darts across miles of dense fields, hunting for any movement in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a muted voice as they attempt to locate a spot to hide in the open area. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter before dawn, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Trapped

Across the heavens, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the palm of your hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and chilling gusts bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

There are more than 1,500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow intersect in China.

The area of meadow where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – farther in and the city skies offer little opportunity to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is equally attractive for the poachers and their "fine nets", so delicate you can almost miss them.

The one we nearly walked into was strung across a large section of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically 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 "bio-indicator" – meaning if its numbers are thriving, so is its environment.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, does this work for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade convincing the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Back in 2015, no-one cared," he says.

So he enlisted helpers who did care and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He organized public meetings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police found that catching poachers also helped in uncovering other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, noting that implementation remains inconsistent.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He remembers exploring the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

Rapid economic growth brought a huge influx of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as empty places to build, not protected zones to conserve.

The change stunned Silva. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the wildlife they housed.

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

This has not made for an easy life. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his associates who surrounded 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 patience and night vigils. Silva says not many are prepared for the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," 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 fundraising covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but support has waned because of the economic situation.

So he has developed new ways to track the poachers.

He examines satellite imagery to find the routes created by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the financial benefits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some generations in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among retired men in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap so they could buy a pet.

"This generation often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about the environment. Once adults' values are set, they're extremely difficult to change."

Busted

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

A separate individual is positioned near a local market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by quietly that his songbird is rare, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

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

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 wild songbirds could be bought in a small park. The location was not concealed.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a troop of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Close by several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

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