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 geese have to raise their young fast 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, enjoyed 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 we thought. 

The eggs eventually hatched and after an hours drying in the cool breeze, the four very cute chicks looked ready to leave. The adults grew ever more excited, flying off the nest and hanging in the cliffs updraft beside the nest to encourage them to follow, called 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 they did!

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, 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 them survive as they bounced off the rocks and were gathered up by their anxious 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 I found the excitement of their family bonding 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 could be 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 him with 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’ were 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 simply praying for a future that ensures there's still some ice for the majestic polar bears to walk on and hunt - forever.

 

CELEBRATING CHANGE

                               

If like me you love the Autumn, then the arrival of thousands of geese from the high Arctic is as exciting as the coming of spring. These barnacle geese nest in far off Greenland and when we were last on Islay, the arrival of some 35,000 was a spectacular experience. 

Their nesting in the Arctic has to start before all the snow has melted because it takes several weeks for them to lay eggs and incubate to hatching and they need to crack on so the chicks can grow enough to survive the long journey to Scotland. Their long development in the

egg gives time for that rather magical transformation from icy winter to Arctic summer.

The tops of these towering cliffs above our remote camp is where they nest, safe from the Arctic foxes, but when the chicks have to jump from their nests and survive the hundred foot fall, truth becomes stranger than fiction. It's a long way down!

I was lucky to be filming beside their nests in the 80's, having enjoyed their winter company in the Hebrides ever since I left school. A taste for Islay malt came later!

 

So since childhood, the wildest places have drawn me north with friends to marvel at the spectacle of seasonal change.

These inspiring pink-footed goose flights were shared with my wife Sue and Michael and Penny in Norfolk. Their happy yapping [my friends too] as they leave their roosts at dawn is as wonderful as the skeins, pencilled across the colourful skies.

However, there’s a tinge of sadness in the air when summer leaves us, our swallows and ospreys too as they set off for those exotic far off lands, swallows to South Africa and ospreys to West Africa.

As they leave behind our Dorset skies, sadness turns to joy, for our woodland gardens glow with glorious colours, as if reflecting the warmth of the summer sun.

And having embraced the changing seasons, our little patch becomes even more colourful than Springtime.

I'm writing this in November as the rains are falling almost every day, but the occasional frosty dawn hints that winter is coming and as the sun has come out, it seems like a good time to share the delights of a walk around our two acre wildlife patch with a little camera and celebrate our good fortune in calling this home.

During our forty four years here, we've concentrated on providing as much welcoming and varied wildlife habitat as possible, particularly for wetland species. 

And by digging six ponds and a marsh, we are sequestering carbon, trying to do our bit for the planet's climate crisis. It's our attempt at creating a little nature reserve and by adding plants, we attract some special creatures while enjoying shovel fulls of health and happiness.

The ponds contain lots of wildlife of course, including native fish such as rudd which delight in sun bathing as they show off their golden flanks and blood red fins. 

Shoals of minnows spawn in the streams and attract regular kingfisher visits, sometimes using our conservatory door for a plunging perch.

An otter provided us with the privilege of its presence three weeks ago while trying to catch our beautiful rudd ... and ducks, so they're a mixed blessing. 

... and grass snakes adorn the ponds while hunting our frogs and small fish.

Buzzards nest just behind the cottage and hunt the frogs too, and with all this water, our trees grow at an alarming rate and give the impression our little home is sinking!

When we moved in, there was heathland on the hill behind us, but now there are tall birches and forty foot high oaks that the buzzards have recently enjoyed as sun bathing perches, so as the season changes, we delight in a glorious kaleidoscope of colour.

 

We've planted lots of acers so we can enjoy their seasonal changes, and their rapid growth is the sort that our government treasury can only dream of.

And if you believe that we only plant trees for our grandchildren, then this beech tree proves it's a lie. Only thirty or so years ago, we dug a small hole for a six foot pot plant and now it stands nearly fifty feet tall, and I think you'll agree, it's autumn colour is beautiful.

In its shade grow several clerodenrums, covered in a canopy of white flowers beloved by hummingbird hawk-moths in late summer ... 

... and when the flower petals fell off, these 'Christmas decoration' seed-heads have glowed since early November. They look good enough to eat but I failed to find out if they're edible, for us or the birds.

Lots of other fruits are edible of course, and our local blackbirds and migrants thrushes from Europe have already been enjoying the feast.

There are so many berries this Autumn that if you believe that 'old wives tale', it's going to be a cold winter.

However, judging from this mild weather recently, it's allowed many of our most colourful, insect friendly plants to keep flowering until mid November, including salvia amistad, our gaura 'whirling butterflies', [and it was], and that bee magnet, verbena bonariensis.

The iris in the ponds are still flowering, even if  knocked into the water by the welcome rain. The fallen apples have been welcomed by many birds, along with daily visits from a hungry fox, the white tipped tail encouraging us to call it 'Tipp-Ex'. Sorry.

With the nights drawing in and misty dawns being a regular feature, our spiders efforts to catch a meal are clearly visible ... 

... and we've left a lot of the teasel heads so our goldfinches can enjoy the seeds.

It's December 1st today, so winter is officially here, though the weather is still warmish in sunny Dorset. Even so, we might add another log to the fire in our snug and wish you all a really happy Christmas and a rewarding and hopefully more peaceful year ahead. There's lots of bad stuff out there, so I try to avoid reading the news and instead, Sue and I keep our eyes to the skies because that is where there's lots of GOOD news.

Once very rare, red kites circle over our garden on many days and two pairs of ospreys are now nesting nearby and raising lots of young ...

and amazingly, we've seen an adult white-tailed eagle circling over our garden, once in April and again just three weeks ago. They have even nested and raised young in Dorset this year, and that's the first time since birds learnt to fly - well almost! They're BIG aren't they.

Further north, the geese have finished fleeing the Arctic ice and every day, they're filling our skies with their wild music.

We might even 'enjoy' a proper winter and that will certainly be a chance to welcome our seasonal changes, safe in the knowledge that all is well with the world when it's still turning.

And we've enjoyed a really good year with friends and wildlife.

 Notable highlights were sharing our garden with a family of robins, [I spent many enjoyable months winning their trust], and even more enjoyable was sharing with lots of loving friends who came to enjoy a meal, cooked by our ace chef Sue. We have enjoyed a rewarding year and are very lucky, so thank you all for your company and for sharing my ramble around our lovely little patch of rural England. 

And while celebrating the changing seasons, keep faith that these dark days will grow longer soon and the summer sun will return ...

Happy days ... and thank you all!