All language subtitles for Irelands Wild River The Mighty Shannon BBC Natural World 2015 1080p_Subtitles01.ENG

BIRDS TWEETING

Early mornings, for me,
are some of the best times.

The dawn chorus comes and
the reeds are full of birdsong

and it's a wonderful, happy time.

BIRDSONG

It's a great time
to be on the river.

It's time to find food

because you've been building up
an appetite all night.

Time to find a mate.

A time to declare your intentions.

This is still my patch. This is
my part of this river bank.

It's a wonderful, peaceful
time of day.

And the light,
if you're out there at sunrise,

sometimes the light
is so, so special.

There aren't many really wild
places left in this country

but on the Shannon river,
you still get that feeling

no-one has ever been there before.

I want to see this river
in all its moods, in every season.

Not just how it looks but
how it sounds, how it feels.

I want to find the hidden places and
the hidden creatures living there.

FROG CROAKS

I'm going to have no fixed agenda.
I just want to wander.

Wander and explore.

This river is a lifeline
for countless creatures who

shelter in and around its waters.

I'm going to follow them
and see where they take me.

Spring on the Shannon.

The great awakening and there's
such a sense of purpose in the air.

The orange-tip butterfly is
one of the first of the season

and it's a real sign
that spring is here.

Just a couple of months ago,
all this was under water

and then the water recedes and
they sort of appear out of nowhere

and colonise these watery meadows.

They're the most perfect
little creatures.

Their wings are so delicate
and the colours are so rich.

The two sexes are quite different.

The female doesn't have
those lovely orange tips.

These must be some of
the most beautiful,

natural wild flower meadows
left in the country.

Never seen herbicides or pesticides.

It's just the way this rough
grassland, farmland,

used to look in Ireland.

The landscape really hasn't changed
but there is something missing.

This place should be resounding
to the cries of the wading birds.

The lapwing and the curlew and
the ring plover, the redshank

but they've all gone.

They've all disappeared within
about the last 20 or 30, 40 years.

Some people blame
the mink for this emptiness.

Ground-nesting birds,
their little chicks

and the eggs have no protection
against a predator like that.

But, you know, nature tends
to be more complex than that.

The real reasons sometimes for the
rise and fall of different creatures

can be very hard to identify.

Our countryside has changed
dramatically in the last few decades

and I guess the river is just
reflecting that change.

Now, you can travel for
mile upon mile on this river

and never hear the sound
of the curlew or

the call of the lapwing or
the whistle of the redshank.

It's all gone.

It's very, very few and far between.

There are one or two places
left on the river where

they still nest successfully.

Now, these low lying fields
are known as the Callows.

This is exactly what birds
like curlew and redshank

and lapwing need to breed.

And that is the warning call
of a redshank.

BIRDS CALL

He says I'm too close.

And it's a call that just
says, "Potential danger.

"Await further instructions."

Now, if I was to get closer,

if I was to get out of the boat,
you would hear a very different call

and that other call
is a real warning.

It says, "Not only have we spotted
danger, but we actually have

"to react to it right now" and
it's a particular call they make,

sort of a lovely, flutey whistle.

And that tells the chick
to go straight for cover.

They're relying completely
on the parent's vigilance.

People sometimes call them
the guard dogs of the Callows.

I have a friend who lives in a
remote part of the west of Ireland.

The only way to get to his house
is on foot and he can always tell

if there are visitors on the way
because he'll hear that redshank

calling and he'll know there'll be a
knock on his door ten minutes later.

I don't see this as
a journey from source to sea.

I see it very much as
a wander around the entire system.

I want to be on different parts
of the river

at different times of the year.

I have lived in Ireland
most of my life

and I guess the Shannon is something
I feel I've taken for granted.

I mean, this is the longest river in
Britain and Ireland and it divides

our country in two from, sort of,
the wilder west to the gentler east.

You have this feeling of
crossing the Shannon.

You know you're going to
another part of the country.

It reminds you of how time passes
and the lives that were once here

and you have to sort of wonder,
what will we leave behind?

Will the monoliths
of the Celtic Tiger

look as romantic
as the castle ruins?

I don't think so.

BATS SQUEAKING

Bats are one of the most
unappreciated of creatures.

There are so many nasty
stories associated with bats.

When you hear these stories
and see the movies,

it's always about vampires
and giving them a bad reputation

and that somehow seems to get
engraved in our consciousness.

They are utterly harmless to human
beings, absolutely harmless.

And they are not just
harmless to us.

They really benefit,
I mean, any creature that

goes around scooping up midges in
the thousands is a friend of mine

because some nights on the river
you would wish you had an entire

swarm of bats accompanying you
every place you went.

We have about 30 mammals in Ireland
and ten of them are bats.

If only we could totally reverse
the way that many of us see them

and look at them as the incredibly
well adapted sort of ancient

creatures that they are.

These are Daubenton's bats.

They are known commonly
as water bats and that's

because they are perfectly
adapted for life on the river.

If you look really closely, you can
see the odd one flitting by really

fast and what they are doing is they
are hunting over the water surface.

They're looking for little insects

which are caught
on the top of the water.

As they struggle to free themselves
from that surface tension,

they make little ripples and
what the bats are doing now,

they are echo locating and
finding where those little

ripples are coming from and they
can sort of scoop up the insects,

either with their tail
or with their feet.

They have extra big feet and
they use those to just lift

the struggling insect from
the surface of the river.

Flitting back and forth there.

The bats themselves live,
I guess, in a different world.

They perceive the world
in a different way to me.

Although their eyesight
is as good as mine,

it's not much good to you when
you're flying about in the dark.

So, as they fly
up and down the river,

they have their mouths wide open
and they are effectively

sort of screaming at the water and
waiting for that echo to come back

and that's how they discern
their environment.

That's how they see
where they are going.

They like to hunt on
the calm stretches of the river

because if
the surface is too disturbed,

they wouldn't be able
to locate their prey.

They're incredible aerial acrobats,
constantly scanning the surface.

Incredible creatures.

Beautiful creatures.

This weather is really tough on the
creatures that live off the river

and this wind has been continuously
blowing for over a month.

Not quite what I had in my mind's
eye when I set out on this journey.

I imagined those lovely, fine,

April evenings
as the days start to lengthen.

Just listening to the birds singing,
maybe sitting by a little camp fire

but for the last four or five weeks
I've just been huddled down like

all the other creatures, waiting for
this spell of weather to pass on.

This year this weather came
at just the wrong time.

There should be great
hatches of insects

and not just for the birds but
for the fish and everything, too.

You know, everything is feeding
voraciously at this time of year.

For nesting birds it's not just
that the parents might not be able

to supply their chicks
with enough food,

but the chicks get actively hammered
by the wind and the rain.

But then it will be amazing
if the conditions do pass and

the first sunny morning, the whole
place will just come alive again.

There's nothing like
travelling on a river.

There's just that feeling of
sort of peace and tranquillity.

You can kind of drift in
and out of animals' lives

and they don't even know
you've been there.

You don't disturb them.

When I'm paddling my canoe,

I'm just wondering
what's happening beneath me.

That whole cycle of life,
things meeting and mating

and breeding and things
killing each other, that's all

happening in the water but
it's something that's hidden to us.

There's one fish that's found
throughout this river system,

seldom seen, but at this time of
year their presence becomes obvious

and that's because it's mating time.

People call them
the barracuda of the Shannon.

It's very much the creature
that, if you were a fish,

you would want to avoid.

They're superbly adapted
for their environment.

They can move very, very fast
if they have to.

Any fish that comes within striking
range has no chance whatsoever.

Some people look at
predators as being cruel

and this sort of thing but
that's really not the case.

If you're an animal
that's been injured in nature,

be you a deer in a forest,

if you've got a tiger around,
the tiger will kill an injured deer.

If it breaks a leg, instead of
dying slowly, a tiger will spot it

and kill it and the pike are sitting
there at the bottom of the lake,

they're just not randomly
chasing any fish.

They're looking for the ones
which are moving a bit slowly,

or aren't doing so well, so they
are sort of like an anaesthetic.

They put people out of their misery.
They put fish out of their misery.

Right now, food is the last thing
on their mind.

They're just thinking
about making babies.

What the females are
actually doing is,

they're laying their eggs on those
little bits of reeds and they will

lay thousands of eggs, but they'll
only last there for a few hours.

And then they'll fall onto
the gravel beds so you

sort of wonder, why do they lay them
on the reeds in the first place?

Maybe it's because the eggs are
more likely to be fertilised

in mid-water. Must be
something like that.

The males are just hugging the
females, waiting for her to decide

to spawn and they're just going to
hang with her as close as they can

because they'll get a very limited
opportunity to become daddies.

When that opportunity arises,
when she's ready to spawn,

that's what they've been waiting for
and it's that moment they've got

to be right in there and that's
what that splashing is all about.

People are always talking
about the climate and changing

and is it changing
and that sort of thing.

The natural world doesn't lie.

You can see an increase
in temperature.

Things are moving north
and west all the time

because they are able to tolerate
living in those sort of

warmer conditions that
are now on offer there.

BIRDS LOUDLY CHIRPING

So, you get this gradual
influx in species

and the Shannon is going to...

You know, things are going to
start being able to live here

that couldn't live here before.

I remember the first time I saw
egrets, it was in the south of Spain

and I thought they were the most
exotic thing I had ever seen.

I was walking up in the hills and
I came over by this little lake

and there were these beautiful,
pure white birds wading around in

the shallows and I couldn't quite
believe what I was seeing and little

did I know that within, I suppose,
20 years, that those birds would

have made it to Ireland and they
are breeding alongside our herons.

That's something
I never thought I'd see.

There's something about herons too,
when you see them hunched up,

they can look a little bit angry
and a little bit fed up with life.

The egrets are like the new,
beautiful cousins that have

just come along and taken
their limelight or something.

They seem to put up with them

but the egrets, I guess,
are just so much more elegant.

Everything seems very calm.

It's as if they've been
living together all their lives.

The two species seem to sort of
accept each other's presence.

Even though they must be in
competition for feeding sites

and nesting sites.

My guess is there are
so many fish in the river

that there's no big competition.

A CACOPHONY OF BIRD SOUNDS

Great sounds.

One of the parents has just come in
and they're all just going for it.

It's a real survival of the fittest.

All the chicks have to be
on their feet, as it were,

and scrambling for food.

It's known as scramble competition.

You've got to make your presence
known to your parents so that you'll

be fed because if the parent doesn't
spot you and you start missing

out on your meals, you'll end up
getting weak and not making it.

My fear is that little guy
has no chance, no future.

It's sad.

Nature can be tough.

MUSIC: Maith Dhom by Kila

We live in a country that's
undergoing rapid change,

in the last 30, 40, 50 years.

The landscape has
changed fundamentally

and that's always happened
a certain amount,

it's just the speed of change
has been dramatic.

Animals aren't good at adapting
to fast change like that.

BIRD CHIRPS

That's a sound now that's
really rare in these parts.

That's a corncrake.

I remember the days when
they were so common,

they were found in pretty much
every field in Ireland.

I used to listen to them just
a few miles from Dublin city centre

when I was growing up.

But now they've really disappeared
from so much of the country.

When you cut silage, you cut it
early in the season so when you have

a bird like the corncrake that nests
in long grass, it's just gotten

to the stage of finding a mate and
the female is sitting on her nest,

sitting on her eggs, and that's
when the grass cutters arrive.

So, they don't have time
to raise their young.

So, year on year, corncrakes have
just disappeared all over

the country and
it happened very quickly.

And here on the Shannon,
they've been making a bit of a stand

down on the Shannon Callows,
probably because that land

was used a little less intensively
than other parts of the country.

But unfortunately they've done
really badly the last few years and

I've heard this year that there's
actually just one male left calling.

THE BIRD CALLS

He's calling to
establish a territory

but to let a female know that he's
about, because if you're a corncrake

wandering around in the deep grass,
you can't find each other,

so it's up to him to call in the
female and if there's a receptive

female in the area, she should come
and have a look at him but it seems

very likely, very possible, that
there's no-one out there for him.

When I go to sleep tonight,
there's a good chance when I wake up

in the morning, that little guy
is still going to be calling

because the only thing on his mind
right now is finding a mate.

That's why he has flown here
all the way from Africa.

He doesn't know that there aren't
any other corncrakes here.

He doesn't know that
there aren't any females.

Poor little guy out there now.

He'll be calling all night.

All day too, probably,
if he doesn't have any luck.

The Shannon is going to
flow through this area now

and not hear that call again.

It's like being in another world.

Very peaceful, just the sounds of
the reeds themselves

blowing gently in the wind.

But all this activity
that's going on, that's unseen.

All the birds building their
little platform floating nests.

Sitting on eggs. Chicks hatching.

That's all going on
now all around here

and just by listening to the sounds
you can tell that's what's going on.

None of the residents in here
can see each other either.

That's why
they're constantly calling.

Letting each other know
where they are.

Contact calling.
It's lovely to hear.

There's always one animal
every year that sort of somehow

gets into your mind,
that starts to fascinate you.

And for me, it's been
the great crested grebe.

The eggs hatch on different days

because as soon as
the first egg is laid,

the female starts incubating it.

Both parents are very diligent.

They have these amazing
parental instincts.

The little grebe chicks must be some
of the cutest chicks on the river.

They have beautiful
little striped patterns,

so different looking
than their parents.

Grebe parents will actually
pluck their own feathers

and feed them to the chicks.

It's a remarkable thing to see.

Beautiful birds.

INSECTS HUM SOFTLY

It's amazing how the whole world
seems to have gone silent now.

It's every year I notice around
the 15th July or so, it's as if

someone had just flicked a switch.
The Shannon is no different.

All the birds just stop making noise
and that's because the breeding

season is over and they
don't have to sing any more.

They don't any longer have to
defend breeding territories.

They don't have to attract females.

They have no reason to sing
and that's why they've stopped.

It really seems to happen
over a matter of a week or so.

It suddenly just goes quiet.

Absolutely quiet.

They're just master fishermen
and they've got to be because

they can pretty much eat their own
body weight in food every day.

Most of the time
you just see a flash of blue.

But to really see how beautiful they
are, you've got to slow them down.

I'm starting to see subtle changes
in colour on the river banks.

Autumn isn't far away.

Great to see
the red squirrels around.

The Shannon, which formed a barrier
to people long ago, has been really

important for the red squirrel
in Ireland because when someone

decided in their wisdom to bring the
greys here, the greys never actually

managed to cross the Shannon and so
that's why the reds are still here.

The poor little blighters,
they just can't compete.

It's not that the greys are
physically fighting with them,

it's just that
they find the food quicker

and they'll take food
that's still sort of raw,

raw nuts and that sort of thing, and
these little guys just can't compete

so the females don't put on enough
weight and so they don't breed.

In saying that, earlier
I found some pine marten scat.

There's some sort of
evidence that maybe

they are able to catch
grey squirrels easier than reds.

Reds are a little more agile,
they can get to the outer branches

of the trees, maybe where
the pine martens can't get to them.

It may be that, with the rise
of the pine marten again,

greys are going to be disadvantaged
and the reds might make a comeback.

I mean, that would be great
if that happened and it just might.

SWANS CALL AND HONK

For anyone who spends
time on the water,

they know that sound, that's just
the sound of the Shannon in winter.

That wonderful, haunting
sort of call.

The sounds of the whoopers arriving.
The end of the autumn and beginning

of winter is when they tend to
arrive and they've been chased

from their northern breeding grounds
by the cold weather up there.

They fly south to avoid it, they
come to the Shannon because there's

a great big larder here to keep
them going for the winter months.

You only have to watch swans
taking off to see that flight

doesn't really come
all that naturally to them.

They really have to push
those bodies up into the air.

You'd think that they'd be a bird
that maybe couldn't fly all that far

but they can fly all the way
from Iceland to here nonstop.

Once you make a decision
to undertake that flight,

there's no turning back because
you've nothing to turn back to.

So, no matter what obstacle
they hit,

or what weather they hit,
they just have to keep going.

They must be very, very pleased

when they see the ribbon of
the Shannon river from the air.

Maybe they're calling because
they're just happy to be here.

They must use up a huge amount
of energy on that flight,

but when they get here, they're
as graceful as when they took off.

You'd swear that they've just
come from down the road.

They're just looking absolutely
perfect and pristine.

Some journey to undertake.

But one thing's for sure -

when they arrive here,
there's loads of food.

They're vegetarians, they come
here to feed on the grass.

It's what they like to eat

and there's no shortage of grass
in Ireland.

We tend to spend so much of our
lives indoors now and in cars.

We are maybe losing touch with
those sort of seasonal markers

which give you a sense of
the time of year and where you are.

You know, our houses are probably
as warm in winter now as they

are in summer and we eat any kind
of food we want at any time of year.

Those sort of traditional markers of
the seasons are sort of disappearing

but in the natural world, of course,
they're very much still there.

They're still driven by the climate,
angle of the sun, day length,

all those things.

That wonderful sense of
a year as something cyclical.

This is a rare cold snap
and it won't last long.

As soon as the temperatures rise,
things will start moving again.

FROGS CROAK

That's a great sound.

Guess to lots of people,
birdsong is the first sign of spring

but for me
it's the croaking of the frog.

Breeding season has begun.

Male frogs, lots of them,
calling to lure in the females.

Males await the arrival
of the next female.

This is an annual opportunity and
they want to make the most of it.

Some of these little males
have spent

the winter at the bottom of
the pond, hibernating there.

It means that they're in position,
they're in the breeding pond

when the females arrive
in the springtime.

Females can be scattered out
over this entire area.

Something wakes them up,
the same sort of cues,

I guess, that wake up the males
wake up the females.

They've been wintering under
stone walls or under bits of boulder

or under logs, and some of
these females have to make this

arduous journey across
the land, laden with eggs.

Some sort of instinct drives them
back toward these breeding ponds

and then it's the calls of
the male that lure them in.

But the poor females.

You've got to...
You've got to feel sorry for them

because all these males have only
one thing on their mind right now.

She's on the edge of the pond and
she's thinking, "Will I, won't I?"

And when she makes that final
jump in, all hell breaks loose.

And these little males,
what they're trying to do is,

they're trying to grab the female.

They have special pads
on their little hands

and what they're trying to do
is get into the right position.

They will wrestle each other
and she is stuck in the middle.

Once they're really tight on there
and in the right position,

they will hang on for dear life

and for the next few days
they will not leave her.

Life for a female frog
is not very easy.

The other males sort of know
and they give up.

"Right, she's taken."

And then they wait for
the next one to arrive.

Love frogs.

Every evening.

Every evening this happens.

Small flocks of little starlings
come together to form bigger flocks.

It's just remarkable how so many
birds come from the entire

surrounding countryside
and all make their way back

to this one little spot.

And those flocks start to wheel

just a few minutes before
they actually hit the reed beds,

there's just those
extraordinary abstract patterns.

From a distance they could be,
I don't know, a swarm of locusts

or a swarm of bees, it's very
hard to get a sense of scale.

In many ways this is the greatest
natural spectacle in Ireland.

It's just some sight,

and the sounds,

the sounds of myriads
of beating wings.

It's better not to analyse
things like this too much.

Sometimes you just want
to sit back and enjoy.

Amazing sight. Just amazing.

My journey is coming
to an end now and I've learned

so much along the way.

I've experienced this river
in every season.

I've gotten to know its moods,
gotten to know its creatures.

Somehow it's sort of gotten into me,
it feels like it's a part of me now.

It's no longer A river.
It's kind of MY river.

But it's our river.

Its future health
and wellbeing is up to us.