Tracking Illegal Hunters Illegally Trapping the Nation's Protected Singing Birds.

Silva Gu's vision darts over vast expanses of tall grassland, searching for signs of life in the inky blackness.

He speaks in a muted voice as the team seeks a concealed position in the fields. In the distance, the huge urban center of Beijing slumbers on. During the vigil, the only sound is the quiet of the morning.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. The hunters have arrived.

Caught

In the skies above us, countless migratory birds, some tiny enough that they could rest in the cup of a hand, are journeying southward for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in Siberia, or Mongolia, consuming bugs and berries. As the year comes to a close and cold breezes bring the early cold of winter, they head to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

China is home to over 1500 bird species, which is about thirteen percent of the world's total – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Several of the major flyways they follow converge in China.

This particular field where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an haven for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer little opportunity to rest among clusters of concrete.

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

A net we almost encountered was extending over half the length of the field and held up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a meadow pipit was struggling frantically to untangle itself, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

It was a protected songbird, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – that means if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

This activist, does this work for free using his own savings. He has given up on many sleeping hours to rescue birds, and he has spent the last 10 years urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"Back in 2015, no-one cared," 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 leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to identifying other kinds of illegal operations.

"It became clear our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

His passion for avian life started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a very different Beijing.

He recalls exploring 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 rapid urbanisation meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not conservation areas to conserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands started disappearing, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

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

It has not been an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers found out he was being investigated by Silva and fought back.

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

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work requires covert operations and lost sleep. Silva says few people are willing to take on the difficult – and sometimes dangerous job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I made it a project because if you want to solve this big problem, you must commit completely. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says donations covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan a year – but support has waned because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to track the poachers.

He studies aerial photos to find the routes worn away 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 hundreds of small birds at night.

"Siberian rubythroats and bluethroats command a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

Although there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime do not exceed the potential profits of trapping and trading 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.

It's a tradition that persists mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are breaking the law, or understand that so many more birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a pet.

"These individuals often lacked enough to eat growing up. Now with a little money, they have adopted the practice of keeping birds in cages," he says. "China developed so fast, there was no time to educate people about ecology. Once people's attitudes are formed, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

Along a riverside path in Beijing, a vendor has several small cages with tiny twittering birds.

Another man is positioned near a nearby market holding a bird cage covered by a black veil. He informs passers-by discreetly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

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

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were people looking at everything from old trinkets to dentures.

We were told that wild songbirds could be purchased in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker in a shaded area where a group of elderly ladies were performing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had gathered with bird cages – some had two or three in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

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