High on a mountain pass near the town of Cocullo in central Italy lay six black sacks. Inside were nine wolves, including a pregnant female and seven youngsters – an entire pack. They had eaten slabs of poisoned veal left out a few days earlier, dying over the hours that followed, snarls of pain fixed on their faces.
Three griffon vultures and two ravens were also killed, probably alongside more animals that went into hiding, dying out of sight. Poison creates a succession of death, spreading through entire food chains and contaminating land and water for years.
The incident in 2023, was described as “culturally medieval” by national park authorities. “It was a bad day for the whole team,” says Nicolò Borgianni, a vulture field officer with Rewilding Apennines, who still remembers what a beautiful May day it was when the animals perished: alpine flowers poking through the grass and snow still dusting mountain peaks on the horizon from the 1,300-metre viewpoint. “But there are many cases like this one.”
Like all poisoning events in this area, no one was prosecuted. The corpses were disposed of and life moved on. Now the ground is grubbed up from wild boars digging their snouts in the dirt looking for bulbs to eat.
In the 1970s, wolves were on the brink of extinction in Italy, but thanks to strict protections and conservation efforts, there are now more than 3,000 of them. In many areas of Europe, farmers are having to learn to live alongside wolves again as they return to places they have been absent from for hundreds of years – and many are concerned that they prey on livestock. The story unfolding in this small valley in Italy is being repeated all over Europe. “Farmers feel abandoned by government, so they solve their problems on their own,” says Borgianni.
From March 2025, the EU is relaxing its protections from “strictly protected” to “protected”, which means if wolves are perceived as a threat to rural communities, states can organise culls. Poisonings such as the one in Cocullo will remain illegal, but conservationists fear the relaxation of protections will empower vigilantes.
Angela Tavone, a communications manager from Rewilding Apennines, is worried this will create more “chains of death” like the one two years ago. “Groups of farmers can feel more free to act against wolves because of the change in the EU law,” she says.
Whoever killed the wolf pack in 2023 failed to keep wolves away. Months later, another pack moved in. Nearly two years later, on that same spot, there are half a dozen wolf droppings, some just a few weeks old. The pack’s territory overlaps with mountain pastures used for cattle and sheep in spring and summer. Wild boar makes up most of the wolves’ diet here, but you can also spot hairs from cows or horses in the droppings. Borgianni estimates about 10% of their diet is livestock. One pack monitored by scientists in the region appeared to be eating closer to 70% during winter.
Vultures are often the sentinels of a poisoning event. The Apennines has the highest number of GPS-tagged vultures in a single population, so observers know something is wrong if their tags stop moving. “If you investigate, you find these incidents,” says Borgianni. They are social animals and up to 60 birds can feed on a single carcass, so dozens can be wiped out quickly. Since 2021 the Rewilding Apennines team has picked up 85 carcasses across all species.
Predator poisoning is an issue across Europe – and the world – but we know little about the extent of it, because animals generally die out of sight. Farmers say these apex predators threaten their livelihoods – and resolving the conflicts is complex.
Down in the valley, Cristian Guido’s family farm and restaurant Il Castellaccio back on to fresh mountain pastures. Twenty years ago, when he started farming, there were not many wolves around. Two nights ago, CCTV cameras captured a pair of wolves wandering through the yard. Guido can sometimes hear them howling from the woods by the farm.
From May, his 90 sheep go up into the hills every day to fatten on the succulent grasses, and come down in the evenings. One day last October, 18 of them didn’t come back. Guido believes wolves were to blame, perhaps chasing the sheep off a cliff.
There was no evidence they had been killed by a wolf (there often is not) so he got no compensation. Now, when he takes his animals up in the morning, he doesn’t know if they will all come back. “I fear that will happen again,” he says.
He is not alone. “Other farms suffered the same loss,” he says. In the past few years, half a dozen dead wolves have been hung up by roads and bus stops by people protesting at their return.
“I find wolves beautiful, but I keep asking for help. It is just not possible to keep them away. And I’m aware if you shoot them, you will get more and more damage,” he says. Guido believes protections for wolves should not have been downgraded, but that farmers must be given more support.
This would include making compensation easier to claim and quicker to be distributed. There should be more support for farmers constructing wolf-proof fences near their properties, he believes.
Research this year looking at wolf-farmer conflicts in northern Greece found wolves were often scapegoats for deep-rooted issues, such as financial challenges, poor government policies on protection of livelihoods, a changing climate, lack of services and rural depopulation. “Our findings emphasise that while wolves impact farmers, economic and policy-related factors play a greater role,” the researchers concluded. The study found fair compensation schemes were essential for coexistence.
These findings are echoed by a coalition of NGOs, including BirdLife Europe, ClientEarth and the European Environmental Bureau, which say that instead of providing support for farmers living alongside wolves, the EU has allowed them to be culled. “Downgrading wolf protection is a misguided decision that prioritises political gains over science and will further polarise the debate,” say the NGOs. “It offers no real help to rural communities.”
Virginia Sciore is a farmer with 150 goats grazing on pastures in the Morrone mountains. Since 2018 she has lost five goats. “You can see in the eyes of the goats they are terrified – something happened in the mountain,” she says. Sometimes, she finds a collar or tuft of hair, but usually they disappear without a trace, so she doesn’t claim compensation. “I don’t know if it was a wolf,” she says.
“The majority of farmers don’t believe in coexistence,” Sciore says. “They have stories about wolves that have been imported. They want to believe these things. People are angry and it’s projected on to the wolf.”
The conflict over wolves comes amid a wider shift away from environmental protections across Europe. Last year, EU leaders scaled back plans to cut pollution and protect habitats after angry protests from farmers, as a law to restore nature was turned into a political punching bag. “It’s a low moment historically to face this issue,” says Tavone.
The Cucollo incident was a turning point for the Rewilding Apennines team. In response, they created their first anti-poison dog unit. A malinois dog called Wild – who at six months old is still in training – will, in the coming months, sniff out potential poisoning incidents.
As spring approaches, so too does the most dangerous time for poisoning events, as farmers look to protect young and vulnerable livestock. Catching poisoning incidents quickly is key – and Wild will help with that. Those fighting to protect wildlife are increasing their efforts. “The war is still going on,” says Tavone.
