Christopher Skaife - The Ravenmaster - My Life with the Ravens at the Tower of London

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I am, as far as I’m aware, only the sixth Ravenmaster ever to have been appointed at the Tower. Before that, caring for the ravens was part of the job of the Yeoman Quartermaster. Like a lot of our great traditions in Great Britain, the role and indeed the title of Ravenmaster is in fact a recent invention. The story goes that when Henry Johns was appointed Yeoman Quartermaster just after World War II, some of the old Yeoman Warders used to joke that he was raving mad – so keen was he on caring for the birds – and so he affectionately became known as the Raving Master instead of the Quartermaster. It wasn’t until John Wilmington took over from Henry Johns in 1968 that the more sane-sounding title of Raven Master became official, and not until some years later – doubtless due to some clerical error in a back office somewhere – that the Raven Master became known as the Ravenmaster. *

I lead a team of Yeoman Warders here at the Tower who assist me in caring for the birds. They are known as the Ravenmaster’s assistants. I call us Team Raven. Together we are responsible for looking after the ravens 365 days a year. There’s never a day when there’s not a Yeoman Warder on duty responsible for the ravens. They are possibly the most cared-for – and certainly the best-loved – birds in the world.

There are a few simple rules about caring for the Tower ravens that have been passed down to me over the years by my illustrious predecessors, and which I in turn like to pass on to my assistants. The theory goes that if you follow these rules you’ll remain safe around the ravens, and they’ll remain safe around you.

DO NOT hurry the ravens.

DO NOT attempt to change the pecking order.

DO NOT try to cut corners.

DO remain calm at all times.

DO allow the ravens to follow the same routine every day.

DO prepare for chaos if you break any of the above rules.

It goes without saying that I have failed to observe these rules many times – and that the job of Ravenmaster is in fact rather more challenging and complex than following a few basic rules.

As Ravenmaster you have to be able to think on your feet. Over the years I’ve had to deal with bird-on-bird attacks, bird-on-human attacks, human-on-bird attacks, stolen goods, snatched food, biohazard concerns, security problems, disease, death, and tragedy. On a daily basis my job involves dealing with children, tour guides, VIPs, journalists, amateur historians, professional historians, bird-lovers, and all the other assorted visitors to the Tower. By my calculation, in the height of the summer, when our visitor numbers are at their peak, I am photographed about three or four hundred times a day, every day: I reckon the ravens and I have probably featured in someone’s family album in every country in the world. For the love of ravens I’ve nearly drowned, I’ve very nearly fallen off tall buildings, and many’s the time I’ve had to risk my reputation and stick my neck out to try to do what I think’s best for the birds. And it’s not as if they’re exactly grateful. They are not my pets. They do not do tricks. They do not ride unicycles. They do not speak Latin. They don’t necessarily do what I tell them to do – which can be more than a little embarrassing. There was the time one of our ravens affectionately pecked a cameraman on the back of the leg during a television interview about the Tower, for example: that caused a bit of a commotion. They do not perform on cue. The Tower ravens are big, powerful, unpredictable creatures, with a savage bite, who roam freely about the Tower and who have the ability to fly off at any moment if they so desire.

So, you have been warned. You know the rules. Now it’s time to meet the ravens.

*For a full list of Ravenmasters, see the Appendix.

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As I mentioned, we currently have seven ravens at the Tower. We always have a minimum of six – as decreed, according to legend, by Charles II. These are our magnificent seven.

Munin

Female

Entered Tower service 18 May 1995

Current age: Twenty-three (age on arrival: six weeks)

Presented by Mrs Joyce Ross

Named by Ravenmaster David Cope

Raven Munin is currently the oldest serving raven at the Tower. *Named after one of Odin’s ravens in Norse mythology, she has led what you might call a colourful life.

She is incredibly intelligent – she can solve scientific tests in record time. She is also tough and she is brave: she loves to get as high up around the Tower as she possibly can, which has caused me no end of problems, having to clamber up after her. She’s broken her wing twice and is now permanently on medication to treat her arthritis. She’s had three partners during her time with us – two of them now dead – and so is affectionately known to me and my assistants as the Black Widow.

I’ll be honest: Munin and I have something of a troubled relationship. Basically, she doesn’t like me. In fact, sometimes I think she actually hates me. She’s certainly been giving me the runaround for years. Research suggests that ravens can recognise human faces, and I can only assume that I did something horrendous in my early days as the old Ravenmaster’s assistant and Munin has never forgiven me.

If you ever visit the Tower, you can easily identify Munin because she’s the bird who hops off in the opposite direction whenever she sees me. After many years of niggling, tussling and negotiation, I would describe ours as a relationship of mutual grudging respect.

Merlin/Merlina

Female (but thought male for the first five years of her life)

Entered Tower service May 2007

Current age: Twelve (age on arrival: one)

Place of origin: Somewhere in Wales

Presented by Anne Bird, Barry Swan Rescue Centre

Named by previous owner and officially still known to the Tower as Merlin (renamed Merlina by Ravenmaster Chris Skaife)

Merlina – or Merlin, as she was first known – was found by the side of a road in Wales. She was adopted by a family of bird-lovers who built her an aviary and looked after her until she became too difficult to handle. She is not a bird suited to a quiet suburban life. Her caretakers gave her to the Swan Rescue Centre in Barry, Wales, where she quickly became renowned for throwing tantrums, mimicking other birds, and randomly squawking out a primitive ‘Hello’ and ‘Thank you’ at passersby. After she refused to have anklets placed on her and withdrew all cooperation in her interactions with her carers, the Rescue contacted us at the Tower in desperation. And here she has been, perfectly happy, ever since.

Unlike my relationship with Munin, Merlina and I are close. Very close. Indeed – after many years – she has bonded with me and two of my assistants and is always very friendly towards us. She is not , however, friendly towards anybody else – including our fellow Yeoman Warders.

Over the past few years Merlina has become quite a celebrity. She has her own dedicated followers on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook. She receives gifts and cards and letters from well-wishers and has appeared countless times on television and in newspaper and magazine articles. She likes playing with sticks while rolling on her back, doing forward rolls, calling out to the crows to come and play with her, stealing stuff from unsuspecting members of the public, playing in the snow, playing dead, drinking water out of the fountain, washing crisps if she doesn’t like the flavour, emptying the bins on the endless hunt for food, hunting mice, and stalking pigeons.

Merlina could fly off to a new life if she so desired, but due to the nature of our bonding, and with a bit of careful flight-feather trimming, we’ve managed to keep her here at the Tower. She is our most free-spirited bird; she’s also my closest friend among the ravens.