Killing a bird is more than a wildlife crime

There are moments that test not just our laws, but our willingness to use them.

The recent killing of a protected common kestrel—filmed, documented, and widely shared—was not just another wildlife crime. It was something far more disturbing. A bird, already illegally trapped, was then deliberately and repeatedly crushed beneath the person’s foot. It was not hidden. Not accidental. Not ambiguous. It was brutal, visible, undeniable.

And yet, the real question is this: Will justice also be crushed—this time under legal hesitation?

At first glance, the case appears straightforward. The illegal trapping and killing of a protected species are a clear breach of the Conservation of Wild Birds Regulations. That alone should trigger prosecution.

But stopping there would be a mistake. Because what happened in that field was not just a crime against biodiversity—it was a crime against a living animal. And that distinction matters.

Malta’s Animal Welfare Act is often misunderstood in this context. It does not “approve” hunting or trapping. It does not give blanket permission for cruelty. What it does is far more precise. It provides an exemption—but only when such activities are carried out legally and within the framework of other regulations. And that condition is everything.

This was not one offence. It was two. One law protects species. The other protects the individual animal. One addresses conservation. The other addresses cruelty. They are not duplicates. They are complementary—and they exist precisely for cases like this

The moment an activity falls outside the law—as in this case—the exemption disappears. It collapses entirely. What remains is the full force of the law: A prohibition against unnecessary suffering. And there is no credible argument that repeatedly trampling a bird to death does not constitute unnecessary suffering. Even within the strictest and most controversial interpretations of lawful hunting, such a method would be indefensible.

So we are left with a clear legal reality: This was not one offence. It was two. One law protects species. The other protects the individual animal. One addresses conservation. The other addresses cruelty. They are not duplicates. They are complementary—and they exist precisely for cases like this.

Failing to apply both does more than weaken enforcement. It sends a message. It says that once a wildlife crime is established, the manner of suffering becomes secondary. It suggests that cruelty is somehow absorbed into illegality, rather than standing on its own. And that is not what the law intends.

The law is sharper than that. More deliberate. More capable. And yet, while political voices have largely remained silent—whether out of caution, convenience, or indifference—the responsibility does not end there. It now rests squarely with the Malta Police Force and the prosecuting authorities. They are not tasked with reading the room, nor with measuring public or political appetite. Their duty is to apply the law in full—without hesitation, without dilution, and without selective restraint. Where two laws have been broken, two laws must be enforced. Anything less risks turning clear legal principles into optional ones.

This case is not just about one kestrel. It is about whether the institutions entrusted with upholding the law are willing to use it to its full extent—even when others choose to look away. Because justice is not only about recognising wrongdoing. It is about having the resolve to act on it—completely.