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

He utters a muted voice as the team seeks a concealed position in the grasslands. In the distance, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. As we wait, we hear only the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky turns a shade lighter with the approaching day, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

Overhead, countless migratory birds, many so small that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have utilized the warmer months in northern regions, eating bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and cold breezes bring the initial freeze of winter, they are flying to more temperate climates to find food and shelter.

There are over 1500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the planet's species – over eight hundred of those are migratory birds. Four of the nine major paths they follow cross through China.

The patch of grassland where we were, on the edges of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

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

The one we nearly walked into was strung across a large section of the field and propped up with bamboo poles. In the middle, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

This was a meadow pipit, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – that means if its numbers are thriving, so is its habitat.

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, carries out this mission for free using his personal funds. He has sacrificed many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

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

So he recruited volunteers who did care and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and invited the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These consistent and determined acts of persuasion appear to have worked. The police realized that catching poachers also led to tracking down other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, noting that enforcement is still patchy.

This fascination with birds began during childhood. He was raised in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He recalls roaming through the grasslands on the city's edges where he discovered 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 considered empty places to build, not conservation areas to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the habitats they supported.

"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I chose this direction," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was being investigated by Silva and retaliated.

"He assembled several of his associates who confronted me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he went to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires stealth and sleepless nights. Silva says not many are willing to take on 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 commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

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

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos to find the routes worn away 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 during darkness.

"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 reckons the penalties to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate 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 grasp that so many more birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to raise awareness about the environment. 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 stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a dark cloth. He tells passers-by discreetly that his songbird is rare, worth about 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have created their own market.

The path alongside the water stretches for several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were people looking at everything from vintage jewellery to dentures.

Information suggested that protected birds could be purchased 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 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 on this occasion there would be no transactions because the police had appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and taking names. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his