Fouryears ago, I watched a scrum of wildlife experts, pest controllers, animal lovers and journalists come together on the Uist islands in the Outer Hebrides, far off the north-west coast of Scotland, to witness the beginning of an unlikely, unpopular and expensive cull. The cullers were targeting hedgehogs, introduced to the islands in the mid-1970s and guilty of an unfortunate taste in bird eggs. The animal lovers were there to rescue as many of the creatures as possible.
The dispute sounds like a traditional clash between conservation and animal welfare. It is much more than that. Since that day in 2003, the cull has largely failed: just 658 hedgehogs have been killed, breeding outstrips extermination by 20 to 1 and the population remains as large as ever. It has also become a public relations disaster for Scottish Natural Heritage, the conservation body in charge of it.
SNH decided on a cull after it become clear that the hedgehogs were harming the breeding success of internationally important populations of wading birds in the Outer Hebrides. It made the decision on 鈥渟cientific and welfare鈥� grounds but did not take into account the national obsession with hedgehogs, nor did it consider alternative solutions. This was a big mistake 鈥� and a lesson for anyone doing science in the public domain. In two weeks, SNH will demonstrate whether it has learned that lesson when its board will meet to decide whether to continue the cull.
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鈥淪cottish Natural Heritage did not take into account the national obsession with hedgehogs鈥�
I got involved in the saga as a journalist when I covered the story for BBC Radio. I travelled to the Uists fairly ambivalent about the fate of the hedgehogs. I had done a master鈥檚 in wildlife management, in which the issue of what to do about pest species seemed straightforward: rely on science to find the best solution and leave emotion and politics out of it. If pests were disrupting the local ecology they should be eradicated. I had also read that culling was more humane than translocation: SNH said translocated hedgehogs would suffer 鈥渟low and lingering deaths鈥�.
I soon suspected that there was more to the story than SNH was letting on. To start with, the organisation insisted that the identity of cullers be kept secret because of dangerous animal rights militants on the islands. The protesters were nothing of the kind 鈥� just sincere animal lovers. I was further alarmed when I found that the justification for a cull came in part from data I had collected when radio-tracking translocated hedgehogs in my previous incarnation as an ecologist. Five of my 12 hedgehogs did die, but none suffered a 鈥渟low and lingering death鈥�. In fact all five died fast and violently: three eaten by badgers and two run over.
Furthermore, I knew the ecologist whom SNH had recruited to try to solve the Uist problem. Nigel Reeve, then at the Roehampton Institute in London, is a world expert on hedgehogs and I had assumed the decision to cull was based on his conclusions. I was wrong: Reeve鈥檚 report suggested a trial translocation. SNH ignored it and commissioned a further report, not from a hedgehog specialist but from James Kirkwood, chief executive of the UK鈥檚 Humane Slaughter Association. He advocated a cull.
My views were complicated by a telephone call I received in summer 2004 from Stephen Harris at the University of Bristol, UK, who said his latest results showed that translocated Uist hedgehogs were dying soon after release. In fact when his paper was published in 2006, it showed that the translocation of hedgehogs from the Uists was successful so long as they spent some time in captivity first to reduce stress and build up fat reserves (Biological Conservation, vol 130, p530).
Harris鈥檚 findings persuaded me to make a temporary return to research. I needed to see if there was anything particular about Uist hedgehogs that made them more sensitive to translocation. So in 2005, with the help of the British Hedgehog Preservation Society, I radio-tracked 20 Uist hedgehogs around Eglinton Country Park in North Ayrshire, UK. The month-long study showed that they behaved just like other hedgehogs. Most lived, some died and many seemed to spend a lot of time preoccupied with sex (Lutra, vol 49, p 89).
What this showed was that culling was not the only solution. It might have been the simplest and involved fewer long-term welfare issues. But with so many people upset at the prospect of healthy hedgehogs being killed, it was not the best option. It was not even the cheapest: incredibly, culling cost 拢1000 per animal, while translocation could be done for 拢50 apiece. SNH should have acknowledged these factors, which go beyond science.
In the end what this episode comes down to is a question not of science, not even of animal welfare, but of animal rights. Many people believe these hedgehogs have the right to live. Animal rights is an emotional appeal, but that does not mean it should be discounted. The lesson for conservationists is clear: wildlife management must rely on sound science 鈥� but not science alone.
