Wild Shetland: Scotland's Viking Frontier (2019) - full transcript

100 miles beyond mainland Britain

lie Scotland's islands
above all others.

With the restless North Sea
to the east

and the wild Atlantic to the west.

This is a place ruled by the sea.

It can bring danger...

..but it's also the great provider,

bringing endless bounty

to the thousands of animals
and people

who call these ancient isles home.

Remote, magical



and full of subtle beauty...

..this is Wild Shetland -

Scotland's Viking Frontier.

It's late-January

and the Viking squads
are on the march.

Up Helly Aa, Shetland's
iconic winter festival,

has claimed the streets of
Lerwick...

CHEERING

..bringing light
to the darkness of winter.

But as dawn breaks,

it's the sea that rules.

The mighty Atlantic
unleashes her greatest fury...

..as storm after storm
batters these isles,

whipping the sea to a frenzy.



For wildlife, it's now
a battle for survival.

Survival of the strongest.

But Shetland's creatures
have mastered this season..

..and have what it takes
to flourish here.

For ill weather never lasts...

..and following every storm

is the promise...

of calm.

On the isle of Unst,

at the most northerly tip
of Shetland,

a young family
is enjoying the winter sun.

Only a few months old and recently
emerged from their underground holt,

these otter cubs have been born

unusually late.

It's a strange new world,

and the cubs - a male and a female -

have a lot to learn.

The family will stay together
for a year or so,

hunting these tidal pools

and learning the secrets of the sea.

But, for now, it's all about play.

Their experienced mother
must always be on guard -

the cubs are still at
a vulnerable age...

..and danger is never far away.

It's a male, a dog otter.

If he's not their father,
he could kill the young cubs.

They're unaware of the danger.

The mother grabs the first one,

dragging it across the deep channel.

The second cub follows quickly,

sensing the urgency.

The male doesn't pursue them,

for now.

But this is HIS territory

and the young family
will need to be on their guard.

Shetland is made up of
over 100 different islands.

Situated at 60 degrees north,

they're at the same latitude
as Greenland...

..and as close to Norway
as they are to most of Scotland.

Treeless,
with a cool oceanic climate,

Shetland is fringed with
over 1,000 miles of rich coast.

Nowhere is more than

three miles from the sea.

Its influence is felt everywhere.

Inhabited since the Stone Age,

these windblown isles

have been home to wildlife
and people for millennia.

Once a critical staging post
for the Vikings

as they navigated the Atlantic...

..boat building and fishing
are still important

to the population here.

Everyone lives by
the rhythms of the sea.

On Unst, the fierce winter storms

have brought rewards for some.

Tiny sanderlings and turnstones

scour the broken kelp for scraps.

Whilst in a secluded bay,
the prize is even greater.

A minke whale carcass will support

these hooded crows for months.

As long as they remember

the pecking order of the scavengers.

Ravens always come first.

Nearby, the otter family has moved

to the edge of the male's territory.

The cubs are gaining in confidence -

able to swim more independently

and starting to explore.

Each new object
is worth investigating.

Like everywhere in the world,

climate change and warming seas
are causing changes.

In recent years,
octopus numbers around Shetland

appear to be increasing.

For the otter family,
this is a real treat.

The mother must hunt every few hours
to satisfy the cubs.

And with the threat of the male
still present...

..she chooses a hidden spot
to leave them...

..carefully stripping seaweed
from the rocks to make them a bed.

She'll do everything she can

to keep them safe.

It's April and,
unusually for Shetland,

the weather has been settled
for days.

The sea is now at her calmest

and the clear nights bring

the magical Northern Lights
out to play.

Here at the most northerly tip
of the British Isles,

sunrise reveals a city.

A city of birds.

With more inhabitants than

the entire human population
of Shetland,

this is the gannetry of Hermaness.

16,000 pairs of gannets
jostle for space

on the steep cliffs and stacks.

Inaccessible to most,

the gannets have claimed
these headlands for their own,

painting them white
with their guano.

An otherworldly,
almost mystical place.

With an impressive six-foot
wingspan, they hang in the wind...

..controlling their descent
to the rock

with the most subtle of movements.

There are rules here -

essential, as space is at a premium.

Nests are precisely located,

each the same distance

from its neighbours.

Measured as the exact extent of
a pecking beak.

Every bird now performs the almost
ritualistic courtship display

of these giant sea birds.

The first sea birds
back to the nesting cliffs,

the gannets will now be
bound to these stacks till August.

On Fair Isle, Shetland's
remotest inhabited island,

the celebrities of
the sea-bird world

are also returning from the sea.

Nervous as they first make landfall,

the spring politics of

puffin society are about to begin.

Younger birds
are searching the colony

for a potential partner for life.

For the last few seasons,
they've hung around the edges,

watching the old hands court
and claim their burrows.

Competition can be fierce.

But at five years old,

these birds are ready
for commitment.

Flicking their heads
to showcase their impressive bills,

the aim is to attract interest
from a potential partner.

But it's not working for some.

This more experienced puffin

is looking for his mate
of the past few years.

It's been eight months
since they were last together

at their regular burrow,

and he's late.

She's already here
and has a new suitor.

There's going to be trouble!

The argument draws in other birds,

seemingly fascinated by the quarrel.

In fact, divorce does occur,

ending around 10% of
puffin pairings.

But not for these two.

The suitor beats a retreat

and the pair are ready
for the breeding season.

On Unst, the clouds hang heavy.

Even in late-April,

temperatures in Shetland
rarely rise above five degrees.

But the endless rain
can't stop the otters.

Raising cubs requires a long
commitment, through all weathers.

It's rare for all the cubs
in a family to reach adulthood and,

despite the mother's
untiring efforts,

her female cub has perished
in the cold spring.

Now only her male cub is left.

But with only one mouth to feed,

his chances of survival
are increased.

And without his sibling,

it's Mum who assumes
the role of playmate...

..twisting and turning
in the shallows.

Play-fighting
strengthens their bond,

as well as teaching the cub
important social skills.

The seas around Shetland

are some of the most productive
in the world

and fishing appears effortless
for the mother.

But the water is still cold

and the cub tires quickly.

With such attentive parenting,

this cub should do well.

Especially as he seems determined
to keep all the food to himself!

With stomachs full,
they can both afford to rest.

For the puffins,
it's a different story.

All the breeding birds
are now paired up

and each couple is intent on
furnishing their burrow.

On the stacks of Hermaness,
the gannets, too, are busy.

Nesting material is sparse here...

but there's always a chance
to swipe a bit from your neighbour.

Programmed by nature,

every bird in this super flock

is intent on the same thing.

Highly-specialised plunge divers,

gannets also have
exceptional eyesight,

able to dive
just metres from one another.

Hitting the water at speeds of over
60 miles an hour.

Like needles,

bird after bird, they come.

With their arrowhead beaks

and special cushioning air sacs
to absorb the impact,

they can make up to 100 dives

on a single fishing trip.

Beneath the surface is their prize.

They swim with their wings
and propel themselves

with large, webbed feet.

It's a frenzy to claim a fish.

Thousands may congregate
when the feeding is this good.

But the supply is quickly exhausted

and birds depart en masse,

back to the colony.

It's May,
and temperatures are slowly warming.

The sea is now releasing her bounty,

the great provider
to all that live here.

Rich fish stocks have long supported
the people of Shetland.

The prosperous houses
of its capital, Lerwick,

are a testament to
the riches of the sea.

An ever-constant presence,

the sea brings
each new weather front

and shapes each new season

and its wildlife.

To live here,
you must work WITH the seasons.

And for generations,

Shetlanders have welcomed

the return of the light

to these Northern Isles.

Each summer, there's one bird

that local people
look out for more than any other.

The Arctic tern.

Surely one of the most elegant
sea birds in the world.

Arriving on the southern winds

from their wintering grounds in
Antarctica, their return signals

the true start of summer.

Often known as the "sea swallow",

it's their distinctive call

that first gives them away,

and sounds like

their local name, the Terrick.

Here on Mainland Shetland,

colonies quickly establish.

Such sudden activity is a surprise
to some of the other residents.

Like many sea birds,
terns mate for life,

but don't maintain their pair bond
outside the breeding season.

Now is the time of reunions.

But for one bird,
there is no bond to renew yet.

His partner hasn't made it back.

With the longest migration of
any animal on Earth,

she must cross three oceans
to reach this Shetland beach,

and her mate.

Finally, a familiar call.

But after such a long break,
it can be an awkward first meeting.

A little romance is required.

He gifts her a small fish

and they embark on
a courtship flight together.

Their bond is sealed.

The frequency of storms

has finally subsided.

For the mother otter
and her surviving cub,

conditions are good.

A shallow rock pool is
the ideal spot for a fishing lesson.

She releases a live eelpout.

All he has to do is catch it.

She is soon back hunting the reefs.

Able to handle the most slippery
of catches in the water.

The cub is still struggling
to pin his fish down.

Huge shore crabs
are easy to capture,

but much more difficult to eat.

Her powerful jaws and sharp canines

deftly open up the carapace.

But crabs are the least nutritious
of all food here,

and maybe a sign that fish
are less plentiful.

They will need to move to
another fishing patch,

bringing them back closer to
the male otter.

It's June.

On the cliffs of Hermaness,

gannet chicks are growing fast.

Further inland
are more subtle secrets.

Remote and unspoiled,

but still dominated by the sea,

the islands are laced with voes,

shallow sea inlets,
carving the landscape.

Lochans are claimed by
shy red-throated divers.

Whilst this far north,

the moorland supports Arctic species
found nowhere else in Britain.

Groups of red-necked phalaropes
gather at a few special lochs

on the island of Fetlar.

They have travelled here
from as far away as Peru.

And that's not the only surprising
thing about these birds.

In this species,
it's the dowdy-looking male

that will incubate the eggs
and rear the chicks.

The more flamboyantly-coloured
female

will simply mate, lay and leave.

That's when she's decided on
who to mate with.

She needs a bird with stamina,

but not all the males
are quite ready

for the responsibility.

Then finally, she has her mate.

On Unst, the female otter
and her cub have moved...

..right to the middle of
the dog otter's territory.

And he's spotted them.

Although females
who share a coastline

often meet on friendly terms,

the dog otter
is only interested in mating,

and the male cub
can be seen as a threat,

attacked and even killed.

The encounter could result in
a peaceful greeting...

..or a fight.

The female and cub
take the initiative.

It looks playful, but a bite
from the male could be lethal.

In seconds, it's over,

and it's the dog otter
that retreats.

A mother's desire to protect
her cub the stronger force.

He will not always have a protector.

Before the year is out,
he'll be leaving her

and claiming a territory of his own.

It's July.

High summer has finally reached
these Northern Isles.

It's now light for
nearly 20 hours a day.

For the wildlife,
this is the most intense time.

Growing young
must be constantly fed.

And an explosion of colour
carpets the fields.

Crofting is still important
on Shetland -

working in harmony
with the land

and supporting
hundreds of wild species.

On the shoreline,
expectant mothers are gathering.

These remote beaches
are an important breeding site

for harbour seals.

But such activity
is attracting new visitors.

Orca pods cruise towards
Shetland's coast.

Seal-hunting season is here.

On Mainland Shetland,

the tern chicks have just hatched.

At just a few hours old,

the new hatchlings
are already starting to wander.

Bearing little resemblance to
their elegant parents,

these tiny pom-poms on legs
are keen to explore.

Boulders are quite an obstacle
when you're only two inches high!

Tough times may lie ahead.

Climate change, fishing

and predators have meant

not a single chick has fledged

from this colony in recent years.

Terns, like most sea birds,
are in huge decline.

The adults are now tasked with
back-to-back fishing trips.

Shetland's many shallow-water bays
can be productive,

where currents bring fish shoals
to the surface.

Using their tail as a rudder,

the terns are highly manoeuvrable,

ready to dive on
the sandeel shoals below.

But where terns feed,
others are waiting.

Arctic skuas.

Shetland's sea-bird pirates.

Mirroring the terns' every move.

Forcing them to drop their prize.

The attack switches to
a black-headed gull...

..and the terns make their getaway.

It's quite a catch.

The larger chick is finally game,

but it's going to be some meal!

They need to grow fast.

In just a few short months,

they will leave Shetland,

flying 10,000 miles
to Antarctica for winter.

But the sea is a barrier to some,
who will never leave these shores.

The Shetland wren
has been isolated for so long,

it's developed into
a distinct island race,

hardier than its mainland cousins.

In the absence of trees,

stone walls are important
nesting sites.

But ancient ruins
hold darker secrets.

On the uninhabited Mousa island,

the 40-foot-tall broch
dominates the landscape.

Built as a dwelling by the Picts,

it's been a shelter for both people
and wildlife for over 2,000 years.

Norse sagas tell of its use as
a hideaway for shipwrecked lovers.

Now quiet and apparently empty,

this incredible structure holds
a secret only darkness will reveal.

Strange shadows flit across
the ancient walls...

..and eerie calls fill the chamber.

As it becomes darker,

more and more gather,

calling to each other

like a coven of witches.

But these are no
supernatural beings,

they're tiny sea birds

called storm petrels.

The smallest sea birds in the world,

weighing less than a sparrow,

they spend almost their entire lives
at sea, only coming ashore to breed.

Using a highly-developed sense
of smell, they seek out their nests

in near-pitch darkness.

7,000 pairs breed here -

nearly half the UK population.

Special low-light cameras reveal
these tiny birds returning

from the sea, battling the gale
to reach their mates.

Carefully incubating her single
white egg for days at a time,

this female cannot leave
until her mate returns

to release her from duty.

He's made it, and she slips out
before the early dawn...

..joining the throng
heading back to the ocean.

It's late-July,
and the hours of darkness are short,

with the sun dipping below
the northern horizon

for just a few hours.

A phenomenon known locally

as the "simmer dim".

On the sandy beaches,

many of the harbour seals
have given birth to their pups.

Born between the tides,
they can already swim at birth.

It's a hot day by Shetland's
standards and tempers are fraying.

The pups grow quickly on their diet
of rich seal milk...

..and are soon ready for adventure.

Ungainly on land,

in the water,
the seals are transformed,

playing and porpoising

with surprising agility.

The females are already turning
their attention to courtship.

Harbour seals can swim
at over 20 knots

and, sometimes,
a turn of speed is essential.

The orca have arrived.

An increasingly-regular visitor
to the Isles

and a predator
few of these seals have yet faced.

But wide, sandy bays
are too shallow for hunting.

The orca must move on.

The eastern Skerries
may be more fruitful.

This pod are
specialised seal hunters,

but they're also a family.

Three generations living
and hunting together...

..and they must eat.

The largest member of the group
is the gigantic male,

his dorsal fin nearly six-feet tall.

But it's the oldest,
most experienced female

who leads the pod.

After travelling
hundreds of miles of ocean,

they're hungry.

The matriarch knows Shetland

has rich pickings in summer,

and she leads her pod
towards the pupping seals.

But the orca aren't
the only threat here.

Even in late-summer,
cold winds can create

harsh conditions
for breeding animals.

But the otter cub has fared well
and is nearly independent,

able to catch his own food.

Keeping it is another matter.

Great black-backed gulls
commonly follow otters,

hoping for a free meal.

It's an intimidating situation...

..and the gull's persistence
pays off.

Life as an adult otter can be tough.

On the exposed Skerries,

the harbour seals
are now facing danger.

The orca pod is here.

Carved by deep and narrow channels,

this coastline is a much riskier
place for a young pup.

The orca cruise just a few feet
from the rocks.

On their low-tide haul-outs,
the seals are safe.

But as the tide rises, each will
have to enter the water...

..and the orca know it.

Beneath the surface,

the pod stop their clicks
and switch to hunting mode.

Total silence.

In open water, this grey seal
is in immediate danger.

Orca are among the most formidable
hunters on the planet.

Confused, the seals scatter,

unsure of this new predator
to their islands.

Working as a team,

the pod search
the indented coastline

with clinical precision.

The shallow inlet is risky

for the large male,

and it's the females
who now move in to flush the seal.

With intelligence and precision,

the whales corner the seal.

Each member of the pod

playing their part.

The seal's only option is to dive.

The pod now circle above
the exact spot

where it shelters on the bottom.

Killed by the orca bull's
sledgehammer tail slap,

it's a quick and merciful end
for the seal.

And the pod now share the spoils.

Beneath the water, communications
are once again resumed

and the pod retreat
to deep, open water.

As summer wanes and the orca depart
Shetland's shores,

the seals are once again safe here.

All the sea bird chicks

will soon be leaving these cliffs

for their life on the ocean.

For the Arctic tern family,

as the spring winds
brought them to Shetland,

so the autumn winds
will now take them south...

..following the sun in their quest
for a never-ending summer,

before returning again next year

to Shetland's remote shores.

The otter cub has now
claimed his own territory

on these unique islands.

Loved and revered by islanders
and visitors alike,

the Shetland otter perhaps
best sums up this wild place.

Living by the rules of the sea,

bound to its ever-changing moods.

Calm and bountiful...

..yet fierce and powerful.

The Shetland Islands are wild,

surprising

and truly special.