Death from above: the ravens slaughtering newborn lambs

Ravens surround a newborn lamb
Ravens surround a newborn lamb Credit: Ian Rutherford

Selena Swanson stands on the fresh straw inside a stone shed on her family farm, cradling a few-days-old lamb in her arms. There are stab wounds across the infant’s soft white fur and a haunted look in its eyes. Where its tail should be is a bloodied stump turned dark yellow from the latest application of iodine.

The hardy sheep farmers of Caithness in northernmost Scotland don’t often give their livestock names. But Selena has taken to calling this one “Stumpy”. It is more than a mere term of endearment; Stumpy is one of the lucky ones.

Just outside of the lambing shed lie three tiny bodies. Their eyes and tongues have been pecked clean out and they are partially disembowelled. It is a shocking sight but one that has become all too common here. For Selena her husband John and their two children Bethany 10, and James, 8, the lambing season used to be the highlight of the year. Now it conjures visions of hell.

Selena and John Swanson with Stumpy the lamb
Selena and John Swanson with Stumpy the lamb Credit: Ian Rutherford

Across the wind-blasted pastures of Caithness, farmers and their flocks are under attack like never before. It began in the middle of March with the onset of the lambing season and now with only a week or two left has reached a final bloody crescendo. The Swansons, who keep 110 cattle and 350 ewes (pronounced yaws in the local dialect) have lost two to three lambs each day on average and the day before we meet picked up five dead or dying animals from their fields. Sometimes, Selena says, she has to stop counting.

“You don’t want to get out of your bed anymore because you know your lambs have been cowering in some corner and what you’re going to find,” says the 36-year-old. “Our children assume going out and picking up dead lambs every day is normal.”

A raven swoops on a field of lambs
A raven swoops on a field of lambs Credit: Ian Rutherford

The culprits can be seen and heard all around us: flocks of ravens perch on the fence posts marking the field boundaries, or soar through the air above. There are more than a dozen birds present across the farm ranging from raggedy full-grown adult pairs, whose wingspan can stretch to 1.3m, to gangs of juvenile males. Their plumage is a funeral black; their guttural croaks deep and visceral.    

A decade or so ago it would be rare to see a flock of ravens in these parts and attacks were virtually unheard of. But in recent years there has been a nationwide explosion in the population of these notorious birds of darkness, with the numbers increasing by some 134 per cent between 1994 and 2002. In 2007 the British Trust for Ornithology counted 7,000 breeding pairs across the country. Scottish Natural Heritage estimates there are presently around 12,000 breeding pairs in Britain, up to half of which are in Scotland.

Ravens waiting on fence-posts for a chance to strike
Ravens waiting on fence-posts for a chance to strike Credit: Ian Rutherford

On one hand the raven’s return is a remarkable conservation success story. In previous centuries the once common bird – the largest member of the corvid family - was almost persecuted out of existence before being protected under the Wildlife and Countryside Act of 1981. But that is proving scant consolation to farmers here who estimate this lambing season they have lost thousands of pounds in livestock.

For those like the Swansons, the problem has reached tipping point. A few weeks ago a petition was launched by a local pest control shooter Danny Bisset calling for Scottish Natural Heritage (SNH) to add the raven to the general license which would permit farmers to kill any bird worrying their livestock. The present protected status for ravens means anybody who wants to shoot one has to make a special application for an individual license which typically only allows them to kill a pair at any one time.

The petition, presently, has received more than 2,300 signatories. However a counter petition launched in response has so far been signed more than 27,000 times warning that unregulated killing could again lead to the raven being decimated. An annual consultation on what species to add to the general license takes place later this year. 

Many say they have never known anything like the last two lambing seasons. Nearly all the farmers I interview within a 20-mile radius around Caithness say they have been forced to change their century-old traditions of lambing outside because the ravens swoop even as the ewes are giving birth. 

Hamish and Les Ritchie with their sheepdogs
Hamish and Les Ritchie with their sheepdogs Credit: Ian Rutherford

Now they keep the lambs in for the first few days of their life until they have enough strength to stand a chance in the fields outside.

Hamish Ritchie, 66, and his wife Les who run a farm near Scotscalder say they have seen flocks up to 60-strong. They have lost around 15 lambs and two ewes to raven attacks already this year and the birds have also lunged at their sheepdogs Fern, 7 and Lass, 9.

“They are evil," says Les. "They’re worse than vultures because at least they wait for its meal to pop its clogs. To see a lamb or ewe being attacked alive is horrendous.”

Hamish says they have even taken to pacing their 90-acres of fields every hour of the day to try and scare the ravens away. 

“I’ve been among sheep farming all my life but this is just hellish,” he says. “By the time you’ve chased them off they come in again. I’ve had ewes still living with their insides torn out. I’ve seen ravens working together in groups of three herding the sheep into the corner with their wings spread out. They did it until they were exhausted and then one grabbed its tail with its beak and the others came in.”

raven swoops
A raven swoops Credit: Ian Rutherford

No bird is more entangled with British history than the raven. Even today six birds live in the Tower of London and the legend dictates if they are to leave then the Kingdom will fall. The raven was revered by Anglo Saxons while its image adorned the banners of William the Conqueror’s invading army, and the sails of the Viking longboats that conquered northern Britain. Indeed the new Caithness flag, which was unveiled this January, features a raven as its centrepiece.

Yet our relationship has long been an uneasy one. Long before Edgar Allan Poe the bird has been associated in ancient European culture with death and witchery. For good reason we collectively refer to them as an “unkindness” or a “conspiracy”.

Ravens are fiercely intelligent and work in teams to take down prey. Even among the Caithness farmers who openly discuss their loathing for the birds, there is a grudging respect.

The Mackay family with a lamb attacked by a raven
The Mackay family with a lamb attacked by a raven Credit: Ian Rutherford

Andrew Mackay, 41, was one of the first in the county to successfully secure a license to shoot ravens. His family farm, which is in sight of Dunnet Head, the most northerly point of the British mainland, started to be plagued by the birds nesting on the sea cliffs about six years ago. He estimates in total he was granted consecutive licenses to shoot between 30 to 40 ravens but two years ago was refused.

“This season we’ve lost over 60 lambs and 10-12 ewes,” he says. “Between us and next door we lose 2-300 a year. When I was a boy we didn’t even know what a raven was. Even 10 years ago they weren’t here. We don’t want them wiped out. Just brought under control.”

As he speaks he tends to the latest victim: a lamb discovered that morning. It is too weak to hold itself up and there are deep lacerations inside its fur.

In the fields behind us yet more black silhouettes stalk the blue spring sky. The ravens are not finished yet.

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