All language subtitles for EW02

Perhaps you think you know Scotland,

this land of proud tradition...

..rugged mountains,

sparkling lochs

and heather-clad hills.

But look again...

..and our country may surprise
you...

..with its vastness...

..its spectacle...

..its subtlety...

..and its splendour.

For this is a wild country...

..on the cusp of change.

A land where animals and plants
are fighting

to reclaim their place in
the natural order.

This is Scotland...

..The New Wild.

The Highlands and islands may be the
most famous part of Scotland...

..but it's here, in the lowlands,
that our nation's character

really comes to the fore.

From the Northeast to the Borders,

this is a land rich in history
and culture.

Home to more than five million
people,

it's a landscape of towns
and cities...

..farms...

..and fragmented forests.

You're never far away
from humanity here

and wildlife has often been pushed
to the fringes.

But, throughout the lowlands,

wild spaces are re-emerging...

..as nature shows its true
resilience.

At the heart of the lowlands
lies the Central Belt,

a place of industry and
man-made wonders.

At the eastern end of the belt,

on the edge of the Firth
of Forth, lies Edinburgh.

Scotland's capital city.

Perched on an extinct volcano,

its mighty castle has dominated the
city's skyline for five centuries.

It overlooks the Royal Mile,

a magnet for tourists and buskers.

But cast an eye skyward

and it won't be long before you spot
the fastest animal on the planet.

The peregrine falcon.

A pair of these birds have recently
made their home here.

As diverse as the city itself,

the female's a pure wild peregrine

whilst her mate is a lanner hybrid,

an escaped falconer's bird.

This year, they have two
well-grown chicks.

They're spending more and more time
strengthening their wing muscles,

a sure sign they're close
to fledging.

It's the larger female falcon
who catches most of the prey.

CHICKS SCREECH

But she's no longer bringing it
straight back to the chicks.

Instead, she lands nearby...

..showing them she's caught
a tasty pigeon.

The chicks can see her feasting.

Perhaps their hunger will tempt them
away from the nest,

but they're not quite ready.

They still look to each other
for comfort.

If they want to eat, they'll have
to take flight.

They're unsure of this final step...

CHICK SCREECHES

..studying their parents as they
fly...

..until spotting their mother
with prey.

The older chick takes the plunge...

..claiming a pigeon from
her talons...

..learning the skills needed
to master these skies.

Peregrines are staging a remarkable
comeback in the lowlands -

after toxic agricultural chemicals
nearly led

to their demise in the 1960s.

These two chicks are the latest
generation fuelling that recovery...

..reclaiming their place here,
in Scotland's new wild.

Further out, in Edinburgh's
leafy suburbs,

another family is preparing for life
in the wild city.

Here, on the banks of the Water
of Leith,

young eyes view the outside world
for the first time.

This tiny fox cub is only
a few weeks' old...

..taking its first tentative steps
away from the den.

His home is well-hidden amongst
the vegetation,

a jungle in the heart
of the city.

But he's not alone here.

CUB CHIRPS

His brothers and sisters are
nearby...

..all keen to explore their new
world.

Their older sister, born last year,
frequently pays them a visit...

..a regular occurrence with this
family.

But playtime is never far away...

..as they build up their strength
and burn off energy.

First seen in our cities
in the 1960s,

foxes have readily adapted
to life here.

As the weeks pass, the cubs venture
further and further from the den,

patrolling a network of paths
and gardens.

They live hard and fast lives
in our cities.

But, for now, independence is still
a few weeks away,

and the cubs can practise their
hunting and stalking

under the watchful eyes
of their parents.

Adulthood can wait for another day.

50 kilometres to the west
lies Glasgow,

Scotland's biggest city.

Animals have learned to coexist
alongside the hustle and bustle

of people's lives here, too.

In the city's East End,

not far from Scotland's
busiest highway,

one animal is thriving in a very
unexpected place...

..by doing things very much
its own way.

The water vole,

living in burrows nowhere
near water.

These voles were only discovered
in 2008

and were initially thought
to be rats.

They're the only population known
to live like this in Scotland.

Much of their time is spent
foraging.

They need to eat more than 80% of
their body weight every day.

The density of voles here is amongst
the highest in the country.

They're safer here, with many of
their predators

avoiding the noise and traffic

at one of the East End's busiest
bus stops.

Hopefully these feisty miniature
Glaswegians

will continue to thrive here
for years to come.

Away from its cities,

the lowlands are an intensely
managed place.

75% of Scotland's landscape is
utilised for agriculture

and most of it can be found here...

..dissected by a host
of great rivers.

The mightiest of which is the Tay.

Flowing for over 190 kilometres
through glens,

farmland and cities.

Here, in the Carse of Gowrie,

it slows and widens dramatically.

This is a place where maritime and
freshwater habitats meet.

Mudflats and salt marsh emerge
from the water twice daily.

This vast expanse is home to one of
Europe's greatest reedbeds...

..stretching for nearly
20 kilometres.

And it's here some truly special
species can be found...

..like the bearded tit.

Though, for the males, it's more of
a moustache than a full beard.

These birds only arrived here
in the 1990s

and more than half of the
UK population

can now be found here.

As autumn approaches,

they begin to prepare for
an entirely new diet.

Reed seeds.

They're difficult to digest,

but these birds have evolved
to cope with this.

In winter, the muscle structure
in their tiny stomachs changes.

And, with one special ingredient,

they're able to break the
reed seeds down.

The secret of their success is grit.

It can only be found on this
old concrete pipe,

deposited by the river at high tide.

Lining their stomach,

the grit helps grind up the tough,
fibrous seeds.

This place may look wild and
untamed,

but it's an entirely
man-made habitat.

First planted in the 1700s to guard
against erosion,

the reeds are now regularly cut
for conservation management,

ensuring a mosaic of vegetation
ages...

..keeping this unique landscape
a sanctuary

for its specialised wildlife.

Another rare species is spreading
out from the great Tay reed bed

into nearby farmland.

The marsh harrier.

This male and his partner
have a nest

hidden deep within the reeds.

The female spends less of her time
here now,

leaving the provisioning
to her partner.

As he drops into the nest,

it's a scramble to secure a meal.

He doesn't linger for long,

for he's holding a great secret.

Just over a kilometre away,

he has another family...

..not unusual for harriers here.

His other partner is hard at work

gathering rushes for their nest
to keep it topped up.

But he can't rest for long,

needing to catch enough prey
for his family here, too.

As he approaches,

she sets off in pursuit,
begging for food...

..and catches prey items in
spectacular food passes.

There will be no let-up for him

until both his broods have fledged.

In the 1970s, marsh harriers were
reduced to just a single pair,

but Scotland now has more than
a dozen breeding females,

all nesting within reach of their
mighty Tay reed bed stronghold.

Further upstream, an even greater
recovery is under way...

..one with the potential to change
the very face of the lowlands...

..and here, in Perth, signs of this
are emerging.

After an absence of over 400 years,

beavers are back...

..living on the quiet backwaters.

And it's here this adult female
resides...

..busily working on her coat...

..keeping it in tiptop shape.

She does this regularly to ensure
it's waterproof.

Her enlarged teets are a sure sign
that she has young.

This year, she's given birth
to three kits.

Living in a family group, alongside
her mate and last year's young.

Beavers are sociable animals

and this young group are
incredibly close...

..congregating to groom one another,
reaffirming their bonds.

The newest kits are busy exploring.

Even at this young age,
they're very independent.

But getting back into the water

might need a little more practice.

Their parents are never far away,

gathering fresh shoots from
their favourite trees.

They'll go to great lengths to find
the best branches...

..but they don't always
judge it perfectly.

It's a time of real plenty for them.

The tastiest shoots aren't safe
from the mischievous kits...

..who won't miss a chance
to steal a free meal.

There are signs of these beavers
scattered all along the river -

piles of woody debris slow
the flow of water,

creating opportunities

for kingfishers.

The beavers have created
many new hunting spots

for these charismatic birds.

More than 1,000 of these rodents
can now be found

across the Tay catchment.

The return of these ecosystem
engineers has already brought

changes to this landscape,

with their dams creating
new wetlands here.

This has sometimes brought them
into conflict with farmers,

as blocked ditches can flood fields.

But these wetlands are richly
diverse places

and can provide a kick-start
for nature restoration

throughout the lowlands.

Further downstream,

where the river meets the North Sea,

lies the maritime city of Dundee.

Famous for its railway bridges
and old jute mills.

The tidal mudflats here are home
to billions of invertebrates,

drawing in huge numbers
of wading birds

to feed throughout the winter.

Unlike the people who live here,

the life of a wader is controlled
not by the hours of daylight

but by the rise and fall
of the tide.

At low water, thousands feed
out on the exposed mud.

Each species has adapted to take
advantage of their own niche,

with their prey determined by the
size and shape of their bill.

In the inner estuary,
redshank dominate,

with thousands prowling
the wet mudflats.

Further out, bar-tailed godwits
work the water's edge...

..probing deeper into the mud.

While turnstones aptly display
why they were named.

All of them are working
against the clock,

foraging as much as they can
before the tide turns.

But there are other things they'll
need to keep an eye on.

These large congregations have drawn
the attention of a peregrine falcon.

This time, it leaves empty-handed.

Waders roost communally

and finding somewhere safe
to wait out high water

is difficult here, on the steep
sea walls of Dundee.

One of the most unusual roosts
is on this sewage outflow,

where, as the tide rises, redshank
and turnstone begin to congregate.

There's some initial jostling
for the best position,

but it's the redshanks who claim
the higher and drier ground,

where sleep will come more easily.

Further out, the larger waders
are on the move...

..weaving their way towards
the outer estuary...

..before settling on the sand
to rest,

awaiting the next low tide.

Numbers of these birds have declined
from historic highs.

But they're still doing well here,

where Scotland's greatest river
meets the North Sea.

Further inland,

traversing the counties of
Perthshire and Angus,

lies an arable heartland

covering more than 1,300
square kilometres.

The great plain of Strathmore.

Nearly every last hectare
here is cultivated.

But small pockets of native
woodland do remain...

..fragments of the great forests
of the past.

As dawn breaks, this special wood
is coming to life.

For a few short weeks,

millions of bluebells carpet
the woodland floor here.

It's a brief time of riotous colour.

More than half of the world's
bluebells

can be found growing in the British
Isles.

Of all Scotland's wild habitats,
this is one of the most diverse.

In the canopy, great spotted
woodpeckers

are busy raising a family.

WOODPECKER CHIRPS

Their oldest chick is nearly
fully grown,

preparing for life in the tree tops

overlooking one of Scotland's
most magical places.

A roe deer doe ghosts her way
between the trees.

She's not alone.

A young buck has picked up
her scent.

DOE BARKS

But, for now, she'll spurn
his advances.

For another woodland resident,

finding enough food is becoming
quite the challenge.

This red squirrel is searching
for the nuts

she cached away last autumn.

But she's not alone.

Other squirrels are always watching.

It's a never-ending game
of gathering

and moving the nuts

before they're stolen.

The more she can hide now,

the more she'll have for later.

She's highly territorial,

and, as one of her rivals
drifts too close,

the chase is on.

After seeing off the challenge,

she affords herself a well-earned
break.

At least until tomorrow,

when the game will start
all over again.

As dusk approaches,
a fresh cast of characters

step onto the woodland stage.

Badgers.

This sow lives in a huge set
here, with her family.

It's been in use for generations.

They're on the lookout for their
favourite prey -

earthworms.

But, with the soil so dry,
it's a struggle...

..and their attention will have to
turn to other invertebrates.

Amongst the vegetation,

something much smaller stirs.

This glow-worm larva will eventually
light up these woods,

but that's many months away.

At this stage of her life,

she's a killer...on the hunt for the
same prey as the badgers.

A snail.

The larva explores the forest floor
with her antennae...

..probing with her palps.

She'll need to be careful not to end
up on the menu herself.

She paralyses her prey

and uses digestive proteins
to dissolve its flesh

for an easier meal.

She's managed to escape the
attention

of the badgers, too.

She won't need to feed again
for a few weeks at least.

Just a few kilometres north,

the landscape changes and the hills
start to rise.

The Highland Boundary Fault.

Running diagonally from southwest
to northeast,

it divides much of the lowlands
from the Highlands.

It's a place where culture,
geology and nature all change.

These hills provide different
opportunities.

Small lochs here are becoming
a hive of activity.

It's the mating season

and toads are on the move,

returning to their ancestral
breeding pools.

This male is on the lookout
for a mate.

Others have already made progress.

This female has picked up
a passenger.

And there's no chance he'll
be letting go.

They're following the burn upstream,
heading back towards the loch.

If this guy wants to find a mate,
he'll have to hurry up.

Some are making their final ascent,

scaling the walls of the outflow.

It's a Herculean effort.

Finally, they make it.

Others have been waylaid.

This female's wrapped in a scrum
of amorous males...

..each determined to mate with her.

One last push and she makes it.

Below the surface, the males
continue to fight over her.

Eventually, one manages
to shed his rivals.

Not all the females have been
so lucky.

Some have drowned under the weight
of the over-attentive males.

Finally alone, this pair's spawn
emerges in a long chain...

..containing well over 1,000 eggs.

In just a few weeks' time,

these small but exquisite lochs

will be buzzing with new life.

80 kilometres east of the loch lies
the North Sea shoreline.

The people of Scotland have long had
a relationship with this sea.

Scotland's largest and most
important fishing fleets

are based on these shores.

And while human activity here hasn't
benefited all animals,

for some, it provides
new opportunities.

Here, at the highest point
of the Buchan coast,

lies Troup Head,

where one such animal
can be found...

..in Scotland's largest mainland
gannet colony.

Over the last few years,

it's expanded to more than
12,000 birds...

..and these narrow ledges are
becoming ever more crowded.

The passing trawlers frequently draw
the attention of the gannets.

All in search of an easy meal.

Using their exceptional eyesight,

they plunge headfirst
into the water...

..diving at speeds of up
to 60 miles per hour...

..tussling over the discarded fish.

Gannets have benefited greatly from
following trawlers here

and their numbers have increased
massively throughout the country.

Nearly half of the world population
can now be found in Scotland.

Gannets pair for life and return
to the same nest each year.

Packed in this tightly,

they're surrounded by temptation.

And some birds can't resist stealing
from their neighbour's nests...

..if they can get away with it.

Getting caught doesn't always
end well.

The gannet breeding season
is a long one.

It takes around 90 days for a chick
to fledge,

so it will be October before these
most impressive of our sea birds

leave the colony to spend
winter on the open ocean.

Late summer is the busiest
time in the lowlands,

there's much work to be done before
autumn makes its mark.

And here, on the edge of the seaside
town of Montrose,

the cereal crops are ready
to be harvested.

It's time to bring in the barley.

Although harvesting is more
efficient than in the past,

there's still grain being
spilled here.

It'll soon prove to be a vital food
source for some new arrivals.

Here, at Montrose Basin,

a great gathering is about
to take place.

The autumn migration has begun.

Pink-footed geese.

More than 85,000 are arriving.

Nearly 20% of the entire world
population - all in one place.

They'll spend the night here,

roosting on the water...

..safe from predators.

By dawn, the super-flock fills
the entire basin.

They're getting restless.

Driven by hunger,

the first skeins take flight
and head for the fields.

Others swirl around the basin

until eventually they take off
en masse.

The stubble fields of the lowlands
now host flocks of thousands.

This special wintering population
is rising

and, because of increased protection
at roost sites,

their evocative calls are
the signature sound

of a lowland autumn.

GEESE HONK

Some of these geese will carry on
to wintering sites

in England and Europe.

But tens of thousands will stay
here, in the lowlands,

spreading out across Angus,
Stirlingshire,

Perthshire and the Central Belt...

..constantly seeking the most
bountiful feeding grounds...

..of Scotland's agricultural
heartland.

These lowland landscapes have long
been defined by people...

..and not always to the benefit
of wildlife.

But those species that are found
here are true survivors...

..and are characterised by their
resilience.

But, as in the rest of Scotland,
things are slowly changing.

There's a growing desire to see more
wild places in the lowlands,

where nature can continue its
recovery...

..securing a better future

for both people and the animals
that live here...

..in Scotland's brave and beautiful
new wild.

Throughout the making of
Scotland The New Wild,

the crew relied on many passionate
scientists and conservationists.

Late summer brought them
to the Tay reedbeds.

This is one of the lowlands'
most precious habitats,

home to the rare bearded tit,

which only started to arrive here
in the 1990s.

It's thanks to the work of
the Tay Ringing Group

that these birds were discovered.

I've got a reed bunting here.

I'll get it. It's high up.

Here he is.

OK.

These reedbeds are a place head
ringer Steve Moyes knows well.

I've been coming down here
since 1984.

It's absolutely unique and there's
nowhere else like it,

and it probably has more birds
going through it in a year

than any other site in Scotland.

Ringing birds provides vital
information

on their lifespan, breeding success
and movements.

The birds are trapped in specialist
mist nets,

which cause them no harm.

We put rings on everything we catch,

but the target species
is the bearded tits.

They're very prolific breeders.

They can have three broods a year

and they can have up to six chicks,

so a pair can rear 18 young in a
year.

Handling the birds takes skill
to master

and requires a special license.

To become a certified ringer,
you must be able

to take a bird out of the net
successfully, safely.

You have to be able to use
the guidebooks

to identify the bird

and then be able to age, sex,
do all the wing measurements.

We're doing this in our spare time,

so it's important that you're coming
down and doing work that's of value,

and that's why I enjoy doing it.

Three, two, one, go.

LAUGHTER

Lovely.

The Tay reedbeds are now
carefully maintained

by the Royal Society for the
Protection of Birds.

When I first came here,

it was heavily managed commercially,

and really, in certain areas,
too much reed was taken out.

Now the management is
for conservation

and we've seen huge changes
in the bird numbers.

Recently, we caught a bearded tit
that had first being ringed

in September, 2013,

this has proved to be the oldest
bearded tit known to science.

It's exceptional.

We're all very, very excited
about it

and we think it shows the value
of the work that we're doing.

40 miles south of the reedbeds,

another remarkable comeback
is taking place.

Beavers were absent from Scotland
for hundreds of years,

but now there are at least 1,000

of these industrious mammals
living here.

In 2021, Tom Bowser became the first
person to be legally allowed

to translocate beavers
onto his land.

We decided to try and bring beavers
here because they were being killed

in huge numbers in other
parts of Scotland.

We know that they bring significant
benefits for biodiversity

and we really thought,
in an environmental crisis,

it was such a waste that they
were being killed

when better options were there.

I'll show you some of the things
that the beavers

have been working on.

So we've got a couple of trees here
that they've been gnawing on

the last couple of nights.

By gnawing these trees,
they get access

to a lot of the branches higher up

that they couldn't reach otherwise.

Bring that down to ground level,

they'll be able to gnaw away
on the branches

and use them to shore up the dam.

So beavers do two main things -

they impound water and
they gnaw wood -

and these two things bring in
all sorts

of invertebrate life to areas.

You have more things coming and

wanting to feed on them,
so birds, bats, fish -

all these things just get
a huge boost.

So the most interesting thing of all
that the beavers did this year

is how they managed to modify
the pond

to give themselves canals that they
could travel safely along.

And, in doing so,

while all the other waterways around
here were drying up,

they kept water in this pond and
kept thousands of species alive.

Beavers rechannelling waterways can
cause floods on some farmers' land.

There is a lot of controversy
around beavers

because of the way that they have
come back

via a series of either accidental
or unauthorised releases.

So then a lot of farmers, I think,

feel that the animals
have been foisted upon them.

The problem really comes down
to the fact

that 80% of Scotland's landmass
is farmed,

so ultimately wildlife has
to be somewhere

and it's going to be on
someone's land.

Beavers offer huge, huge benefits
to the environment.

So I hope that we can find a way
that we can coexist

with these animals because they're
not going away

now that they're back.