Many viewers consider this instance of death to be the
single most horrific and upsetting in the entire series’ run. I do not agree myself (there is one instance,
still yet to come, which was the source of infinitely more childhood
heart-break for me), but I can certainly see their argument. The imagery used to convey these deaths treads
about as far into Martin Rosen territory as the series was ever likely to go,
complete with mangled carcasses and plainly visible blood, and there are few who like
to think of newborn infants as the victims of a particularly heinous
attack. Through the perpetrator, the
ominously named “Butcher Bird”, we also get one of the few non-human villains
of Series 1, one who’s fantastically deadly and gets their chance to demonstrate
it. Given that most non-human threats to
the travelling animals came in the form of dull-witted dogs and morbidly obese
cats, it’s hardly surprising that the baby-killing passerine made such a
lasting impact.
This death requires a bit of context, as it takes place during a portion of the journey in which Fox was temporarily separated from the other animals and Badger had attempted to take up leadership in his stead. Following their misadventures upon the farm, the next challenge for the animals is crossing a wide river, a task which could have been accomplished quite simply if not for the failure of the rabbits to maintain a level head. The rabbits start panicking (characteristic behaviour for them), don’t get very far and, when Fox tries to help them out, completely overwhelm him to the point that he becomes too exhausted to swim. That's when Murphy's Law kicks in, and a large mass of driftwood is revealed to be headed in their direction. Badger leads the other animals in a rescue mission and, while the rabbits are successfully pulled to safety, Fox and Badger are unable to clear the driftwood in time and are knocked unconscious (the fifth episode ends with this as a cliff-hanger, although even as a child I was never naïve enough to believe that major characters like Fox and Badger would be killed off). In the aftermath, the animals are able to locate and rescue Badger, but there is no further trace of Fox. After a time the animals attempt to continue on their journey, but without Fox’s leadership things begin to unravel. Along with the inevitable disputes about who should take over as the new leader (Owl, goaded by Adder, is particularly keen on seizing the position, but it ultimately goes to Badger) Toad’s guidance falters when his homing instinct starts pulling him in the direction of Farthing Wood, causing some animals to doubt whether he is capable of getting them to White Deer Park at all. Finally, Mrs. Field-Mouse gives birth to a litter of three, an event which is initially greeted with delight by the other animals, but later gives way to questions regarding the practicality of having newborns travel with them. Vole seizes the opportunity to assert that the smaller animals are fully capable of surviving where they are, and that the mice and the voles should not be forced to continue what is looking to be an increasingly futile endeavour to reach White Deer Park. Badger, recalling what happened to the Newts when they made a similar decision, is extremely reluctant to leave them behind, but Owl suggests that the Field-Mice have a right to decide what is best for their own children.
In spite of (or, more likely, because of) Vole’s cockiness,
one does get the feeling that this is not going to end well for the mice and
voles, and sure enough their new home turns out to be located right within the
hunting territory of a red-backed shrike (otherwise known as the Butcher Bird). The implication is that the shrike was too
cautious to make a move while there were bigger animals around, but once they
had disappeared, it’s no problem. Hare
spots the shrike flying overhead with a dead baby field-mouse and races back to
find the voles and adult field-mice huddling in terror, the shrike having made
short work of the newborn babies. Vole
admits that he was misguided in having wanted to stay, and he and the other
survivors re-join the main party on their journey to White Deer Park.
The Butcher Bird may have struck terror into the hearts of many a school-aged viewer, with his grotesque habits and his blood-curdling cry of “Shrrrrrrriiiike!”, but I’m honestly inclined to go a little easy on the guy. He’s a merciless killer purely because he’s required to be so as a shrike. Indeed, in the following episode when Fox (yes, he’s alive, but I’m sure you didn’t need me to tell you that) encounters the very same shrike and we get to hear his perspective on the events, it’s not altogether impossible to see where he’s coming from. To him it was all just business as usual, and he cannot comprehend why his latest hunting venture caused so much offense amongst such a wide variety of creatures. The whole notion of the Oath of Mutual Protection is completely alien to him – when Fox asks to be pointed in the direction in which the Farthing animals were headed, the shrike can only assume that Fox too is interested in picking off a few of their number. He may be a punk, as Fox indignantly brands him, but, as is implicit in the shrike’s response, he has little reason to feel ashamed of that.
The Butcher Bird may have struck terror into the hearts of many a school-aged viewer, with his grotesque habits and his blood-curdling cry of “Shrrrrrrriiiike!”, but I’m honestly inclined to go a little easy on the guy. He’s a merciless killer purely because he’s required to be so as a shrike. Indeed, in the following episode when Fox (yes, he’s alive, but I’m sure you didn’t need me to tell you that) encounters the very same shrike and we get to hear his perspective on the events, it’s not altogether impossible to see where he’s coming from. To him it was all just business as usual, and he cannot comprehend why his latest hunting venture caused so much offense amongst such a wide variety of creatures. The whole notion of the Oath of Mutual Protection is completely alien to him – when Fox asks to be pointed in the direction in which the Farthing animals were headed, the shrike can only assume that Fox too is interested in picking off a few of their number. He may be a punk, as Fox indignantly brands him, but, as is implicit in the shrike’s response, he has little reason to feel ashamed of that.
HORROR FACTOR: 10. The show certainly didn’t go easy on
these three just because they were newborn infants, and the shots of the shrike
hoarding his freshly-caught prey by spearing them upon a thorn bush are
undeniably gruesome. This is made all
the more salient in the following episode when Fox happens across the shrike’s hoard
and we’re treated to another glimpse of their half-eaten carcasses. Not to mention, the blood stains on the vacant thorn branches that are implied to be left over from the shrike's previous victims.
NOBILITY FACTOR: 5.
Once we’ve suspended our personal biases, this was all part of a natural cycle,
and the shrike certainly had as much right as any of the Farthing predators to
take advantage of a good opportunity when it came along. It’s not as if Fox didn’t slaughter a whole
bunch of rodents in the very same episode, after all.
TEAR-JERKER FACTOR: 5. Let’s face it, we never really get
the chance to form much of an emotional attachment to these characters. Their youth and vulnerability certainly rouses our protective urges, and Mrs Field-Mouse’s grief at the loss of her offspring gives things an emotional tingle, but overall their deaths are played
more for horror than anything else. And what horror it is.
OVERALL RATING: 20
Thank you for these welcome trips along memory lane. I really will have to research these. Thank you for posting these summaries and thoughts
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