GREENLAND

Only six weeks ago, I opened my latest blog with a picture of  nesting barnacle geese in Greenland as a way of celebrating seasonal change, little knowing that within days, the island would be at the centre of a political storm. American President Donald Trump’s threat to blackmail his Nato allies for trying to block his ambition to own the island could create change with a capital ‘C’ and according to some of the world’s leaders, result in destabilising the world order!

It’s difficult to believe that such a critical situation could develop so quickly, even if some might agree with one politician’s opinion that Trump is ‘unhinged’! The President’s concern is the security of the Arctic, as it is for Nato, so working with the Danish government and the people of Greenland would seem a better option than, as the US Speaker said, “he’s playing chess”. What a dangerous game!

 

 

Greenland is the world's largest island and in a vital strategic position between the three super powers, but I thought as some light relief from the politics, I'd highlight the importance of the island to wildlife and the world's climate by telling the story of an expedition I made there with my close friend Mike Read in 1984.

 

We were there for eight weeks to film wildlife for the BBC series called ‘Kingdom of the Ice Bear’, camping out in the remote east coast on the opposite side of the island to Nuuk, the capital where the majority of the small population live and where recent international interest is centred.

As you’ll know from the press reports, Greenland is Danish territory and we were camped close to their base on the east coast where they have a small radio station and a carefully maintained runway suitable for large Nato aircraft. The Dane’s were wonderfully supportive of our work and even provided us with a large helicopter to transport us eighty miles south from their base at Mesters Vig to our remote filming location. But first we had to wait, for it was still deepest winter, with all the land except their runway covered in thick snow. So we hauled all our gear up into the hills until we found a clear patch on which to pitch our tents.

My reaction to this spot as described in our book and adorned by the Inuit art was heartfelt and even better, there was a crag nearby with our film star bird already nesting on a ledge, a pair of barnacle geese. The Arctic summer is short and barnacle geese have to raise their young so they are strong enough to fly the long journey back to Scotland before the Arctic winter closes in, so they start laying their clutch of eggs early, and the weather isn't always kind.

Our temporary base was well chosen, for in the rocks nearby we found a nesting snow bunting and a beautifully camouflaged ptarmigan, so while I filmed, ace photographer Mike was able to take many cracking images for his photo library back home and help to illustrate our little adventure.

One key species for the film was that most characteristic animal in the far north, the lemming. It is only numerous on about one year in four and as the snow began to melt and they popped their heads out, we knew we’d struck lucky.

They are the staple food for arctic predators such as foxes and long-tailed skuas but lemmings are feisty and when filming one being attacked by a skua, it reared up on it’s hind legs, chittered a toothy message that told the skua to ‘F’ off, and it did!

The lemmings were delightfully confiding and even hid under my camera lens to avoid being eaten. Later in the summer when I was in a hide filming a family of fox cubs, a lemming would hide with me and climbing onto my camera rucksack, would enjoy the granary bar crumbs that I handed out.

After several days of filming near the Danish base, the snow had melted sufficiently for us to head eighty miles south in the Danish base's helicopter to the remote glacial valley of Orsted Dal, an area full of wonderful wildlife, most notable being one of the largest colonies of cliff-nesting barnacle geese in east Greenland.

We set up camp below the towering cliffs with the ambition of filming the chicks leaving the nest, the science suggesting they could only reach the valley floor safely by travelling down on the adults backs. But to prove that truth can be stranger than fiction, they actually jump and hope to survive the hundred feet fall to the scree slope rocks below.

Finding a suitable nest-site to film on the precarious cliffs was tricky but having chosen a safe-ish place for the filming hide, close to a nest with four eggs, the rest would be easy, or so I thought. 

The science said that from when the first egg started chipping, the chicks would be out within four hours. But alas, it was actually forty hours before the fluffy youngsters were ready to leave the nest, and not knowing this, I had to stay put, with very little food, water or sleep. Stuck on a narrow cliff ledge with two very nervous geese just a few feet away was a trial because I couldn’t move for fear of frightening them. And have you any idea how noisy opening a Mars Bar is?! The nervous geese were all ears and staring at my camera  suspiciously, but I never moved the lens for hours and they eventually relaxed.

After an hours drying in the cool breeze, the four very cute chicks looked ready to leave and the adults grew ever more excited, flying off the nest and hanging in the cliffs updraft to encourage them to follow, calling loudly. Teetering on the edge, each chick was understandably nervous of leaping into the unknown, though eventually they all took the plunge and disappeared from view, falling far into the valley below.

My forty hour trial was over and I extracted myself from my temporary prison and very stiffly, climbed down the cliff with my camera, eager to find out if any of the four chicks had survived the fall. It seemed miraculous that they could, but the wingless balls of fluff are very light and most bounce when they hit the rocks below - and survive!

Now we had to film their first ‘flight’ from below and it was easy to tell from their excited and noisy calls which pair of geese were due to encourage their chicks to jump. Three days later, a pair were teetering on the edge and I was lined up, waiting tensely when at that very moment, the sun rose above the cliff and blinded me and the lens, flaring the images out. I couldn’t believe our luck and cursed so loudly in frustration that I scared the local musk ox herd and they thundered off down to the distant river.

Eventually we did succeed in filming the death defying fall of the chicks and were glad to see most of them survive as they bounced off the rocks and were gathered up by their parents.

A drama unfolded however because one of their chicks had fallen down a crevice in the boulders, it's parents frantic and reluctant to abandon it. Though wildlife film-makers have an unwritten law never to interfere in nature, the distress of the adults and the desparate cries of the trapped chick meant I couldn't resist helping, so reaching deep into the rocks, I just managed to rescue it.

By now, the remaining family were a little way down the slope and watching me carefully, so I put the little chick into my woolie hat on my head to keep it warm and crept slowly towards them until I felt I was close enough to let it go. The chick rushed towards it's frantically calling parents and the excitement on their bonding was  quite emotional. 

Their survival still hung in the balance as the arctic foxes were waiting below and the tiny survivors had to leg it down to the security of the river with mum and dad before they were caught.

The foxes had a den with lots of cubs about six miles up the valley, so they were hungry, but the geese had some respite because it was a ‘lemming year’ and the foxes had an alternative food supply. It was a long walk over broken tundra to reach the den and set up a filming hide, though Mike had the rough end of the stick because he had to do a lot of walking for the next few days to keep me supplied with film and food.

It was a tough gig for Mike's first foreign adventure, made worse by the cold wind rushing down from the Greenland ice cap just above our camp. Mind you, when the wind stopped we were soon praying for it to return because in the still air, the twin engined mosquitoes succeeded in eating us alive. There were millions of them and they nearly drove Mike mad, especially when they covered his food. I suggested they provided extra nutrition but I’m not sure he appreciated my sense of humour! 

The bonus for him as he trudged many miles to help me with the filming was finding carpets of arctic flowers to photograph and add to his library. Greenland sure is a beautiful country, especially during the summer.

 

 

 

 

Our attempts to raise awareness of the Arctic through our BBC series ‘Kingdom of the Ice Bear’ was rewarded when co-producer Mike Salisbury and I received six British Academy Award nominations, our book was translated into three languages and even ended up being used as a text book in many American schools. So maybe even a TV show can have a little influence on how folk perceive the importance of Greenland and the far north. 

Even though this largest island in the world is eighty percent ice covered, it is melting fast and the alarming reality is the Arctic ice has been declining since 2002, increasingly so recently due to global warming and with the promised surge of ice-breakers from Russia, China and the USA destroying the ice even more as they seek to control the far north, the conflict threatens the whole world as it adds to the climate crisis and rising sea levels.

The Arctic is still wonderful but the future is looking sad, both for the wildlife and the Inuit people who live there using their ancient culture and skills to survive.

I guess we can only hope that good sense prevails, even if that seems in short supply when some of our leaders seek world domination. I'm praying for a future that ensures there's still some ice for the majestic polar bears to walk on and hunt.