On the edge of the Atlantic
lies a world of rock and water.
Wind scoured and rugged,
yet full of grace and beauty.
Exposed to a restless ocean
and Europe's wildest weather,
the animals of these islands face challenge
after challenge.
For a year, we'll follow life in this magical,
but unpredictable place.
Revealing secret lives
and mysterious worlds
Rarely seen
and never filmed here before.
Here, on Scotland's Wild West coast.
Here, in the Hebrides.
Like the twin walls of a fortress,
the islands of the Hebrides stand as
Europe's final frontier against the Atlantic Ocean.
Each island has its own special character,
but those of the southern
tip of the chain are the most contrasting of all.
The fur tile whisky island of Islay,
mountainous jurea and the gentle twin
islands of Colonsay and Oronsay.
It's early September in the Hebrides
and the wheel of the seasons is turning.
Huge migratory basking sharks still
feed on plankton close to the islands.
Soon they'll move on.
Only the toughest will survive what
Autumn is about to throw at the islands on the edge.
For young animals facing an independent life,
it's a testing time.
On Islay there's a restless mood
amongst the swallows which have
spent summer resting in the whisky distilleries.
Newly fledged birds
line up on the wires ready to leave
for their wintering grounds in Africa.
Inside the store, one last nest is still occupied.
While the ancient art of whisky making
carries on at its gentle pace,
the adults rush to feed up their chicks.
Swallows eat insects and the supplies are already
dwindling as the summer ends.
If there's a sudden cold snap,
there'll be no food at all and the chicks could starve,
so they must get out of the nest and
head south as soon as they can.
The weather is already unsettled and worse is on the way.
On the coast nearby, independence is looming for a young otter.
At one year old, this cub is still dependent on his mother,
but he's fully grown and like a stay at home
teenager, his welcome is wearing thin.
Otter cubs may stay with their mother for up to 18 months,
sharing food and sleeping quarters.
But if the female comes into season,
the youngster will be pushed out.
There's a stranger on the scene.
It's a mature dog otter with a distinctive kinked tail.
Boldly fishing in the family patch, he
shows his full length as he swims to shore.
He knows there's a female here.
He can smell her.
He's searching for her everywhere.
The cub has spotted the intrude intruder.
He's terrified.
Territorial males will try to kill cubs, so there's real danger for him.
The cub can't let him out of his sight.
If his mother chooses to mate with the male, he'll be completely on his own.
The female has joined the male and the pair swim off together
For a year, this cub has relied on his mother to guide him to food,
help him shelter from storms and protect him from other otters.
For the first time in his life, he's alone.
And the most dangerous time of the year has arrived.
Weather changes fast here on the I'ds on the edge.
Parts of the Inner Hebrides get over three metres of rain in a year.
When it rains here, it really rains.
These are dreadful conditions for young swallows.
But the nest is empty.
They're safe.
The chicks have fledged and moved into the wash backroom,
the place where the barley mash ferments into alcohol.
The chicks are uncertain of their powers of flight.
They're reluctant to leave the companionship of the
family and constantly snuggle up to each other.
Reassured by the close contact that always defined their
contact that always defined their world.
One chick is growing in confidence and encouraged by the
calls of the adults makes tentative for yays towards the ceiling. --
This is a very dangerous time.
A mistake now could mean the end of a very short life.
The other three huddle together,
still missing the security of the nest.
But they must leave Islay soon
or face certain starvation as the cold weather sweeps in.
If they're lucky,
they'll return to the distillery in eight months
to raise their own broods,
a return trip TV 12,000 miles. --
Back in the store,
casks of whisky sleep on,
maturing for ten generations of swallows,
before being declared ready.
Each year, 2% of the spirit disappears through evaporation.
It's called the angel's share.
And just like miniature angels,
the swallows are gone,
melting into the clear blue sky.
They've made it out of the distillery just in time.
The wind that sends them safely on their way is bringing change.
High above the three great mountains of Jura the clouds are brewing.
The first big Autumn storm is here.
In the Sound of Islay the waters pick up pace.
Soon the racing tide will combine with the wind
making the sea a force to be reckoned with.
Even the lifeboat turns and starts heading for home.
The weather is blowing straight in from the Atlantic
There is nothing between Islay and America but 3,000 miles of wild sea.
At least young swans can follow their parents.
But the young otter is completely alone.
To keep himself alive, he must master fishing,
even in these wild conditions.
Without his mother's experience to guide him,
the decisions he makes now are critical.
Many young otters die in their first winter.
This is the supreme challenge.
He's past his first big test.
It's been a serious storm.
The waves have pulped the seaweed
and whufbged it into foam.
But although the winds are dropping,
there is more bad weather in store
for the islands on the edge.
Storms and tides in mid-September
are some of the biggest of the year.
Beneath the waves,
the ferocious tidal flows are good news.
Here, beyond the curtains of kelp is a remarkable world of creatures,
who depend on the movement of the tide to keep them alive.
A squat lobster can search for food
but most creatures here are firmly anchored to the rock.
These are Dead man's Fingers.
A type of soft Coral.
Each colony is made up of hundreds of tiny animals called polyps.
The movements of the tide are critical for these animals as they filter
plankton from the water streaming past.
But Corals have enemies.
A sea slug...
This miniature predator eats soft coral polyps.
The Fingers, however, have a neat trick.
All the polyps are connected by a primitive net of nerves
and they retract as one.
The tide has turned.
It's picking up pace.
Soon the beaches here on the Isle of Arransay
will be completely submerged by the highest tide of the year.
The grey seal pupping season has started.
There are new-babies everywhere.
Suckling on some of the richest milk in the world.
This is a dangerous place to be born.
The seals are packed close together on the beach.
Mothers will attack pups that don't smell like their own
and fight viciously.
New-born pups don't know how to swim.
Usually, they won't enter the water
until they are three weeks old,
but today, the tide will reach so far up the beach they need to learn very quickly.
Some mothers are already showing their pups how to swim.
Some are too young to cope.
A fight breaks out in the water between two females.
Both pups are at risk of being caught in the cross-fire.
One mother and pup struggle back to the beach.
The other baby is exhausted by being in the water.
It is just two days old. It must rest.
Today's tide will be the highest of the year.
The pup is completely unprepared for what is to come.
The water is still rising.
Rocks which are usually safe resting places
will soon be under the water.
The mother seal has made a serious mistake.
The rising tide is funneling a huge volume of water between the narrow
gaps between the islands of Jura and Scarba.
This is the legendary Hag's Cauldron.
A place reserved for the most dedicated thrill-seekers.
As the tidal flow is squeezed between the islands, the seabed
suddenly plunges into a cavern accounts hole.
300M down to goes.
The water then surges up and hammers into rock pinnacle,
just below the surface.
The turbulent water, super-charged
by the highest tide of the year is
now on a direct course to Oronsay
And the seal family.
They have no choice but to sit it out.
The mother rolls on one side, trying to shield her pup, but it
mistakes the cue and it moves in to suckle.
The pup is just hanging on.
If it is swept away it could drown.
There is nothing that the mother can do to help her baby now.
It's only the hope to swim back to the beach alone.
The pup is safe at last.
Now it can enjoy the most satisfying feed of its life.
Autumn is turning out to be very wet this year in the Inner Hebrides.
On the Aisle of Run, 60 miles north of Oronsay,
this is having surprising consequences.
At this time of year, female red deer, called hinds should be coming
into season, triggering the annual mating contest, known as the rut.
But the wet weather has set everything back.
So although the stags are pumped up with testerone, and desperate to mate,
not a single hind is ready for them.
Now as the weather finally improves, things are about to change.
Astonishingly, though, each hind will only be in season for one hour.
If the stags are to mate with them, they'll need to be in exactly the
right place at the right moment.
From now on, the tension will build.
Nothing defines the weather of the Inner Hebrides more than the wind.
Gusts of 60mph are common in summer and now at the turning point of the
year, they can reach 100.
Now at the beginning of Autumn, the winds turn to the north, bringing
long-distance travellers to Islay's Loch Gruinart.
Whooper swans, they've flown direct from their breeding grounds in
Iceland. Nearly 1,000 kilometres away.
The youngsters in these families have made the journey for the first time.
Their feet haven't touched the ground since they left Iceland more than 40 hours ago.
Islay is the very limit of what they can manage in a single flight.
They need to rest.
The swans are in transit,
heading for wintering grounds further south
but their travelling companions will stay much longer.
Barnacle geese.
More than 40,000 of these geese have travelled from Greenland
to spend Autumn and winter on the rich farmland here.
The island offers them a haven.
There are no ground predators, like foxes, here.
But they seem edgy.
It's a false alarm.
A buzzard is too small to pose a threat to these geese.
Bigger birds of prey will hunt them.
And this is an island of eagles.
There are at least ten pairs of golden eagles on Islay and recently,
the even larger white-tailed eagle has taken up residence here.
The flocks of geese are a great potential food supply.
They'll need to be on their guard at all times.
High above the cliffs on the south coast of Islay
stands a lonely monument.
It commemorates the sinking of two American troop ships in 1918.
The Tuscania and the Otranto.
600 lives were lost in these disasters as men were drowned or dashed on the jagged rocks.
These treacherous waters have claimed many victims over the years.
There are hundreds of wrecks around Islay.
But new life has sprung from these tragedies.
The rusting ribs and hulls provide a home for many plants and animals.
They're man-made reefs.
Crabs take up residence in the nooks and crannies,
while shoals of pollack patrol the ship's skeleton.
The wreck is a perfect home for these relatives of the cod.
They're predators searching for smaller fish
to ambush in the decay chambers of the ship.
Wrasse are quick to rush for cover.
The decaying plates of the stern pulsate with life.
Hundreds of anemones sit along the coral.-???-
Barnacles cover the hull of the ship.
These tiny relatives of crabs and lobsters beat their feathery legs
to draw passing plankton into their shells.
Being anchored to the wreck gives them
extra height above the seabed and access to more food.
Everywhere new life springs from death and destruction.
These ferocious seas nurture as well as destroy.
Dawn breaks on Islay.
The barnacle geese are roosting on the mud flats of Loch Indaal
still recovering from their marathon flight.
But they must feed and as the sun rises,
the flocks will spread out across the island.
There are killers about.
White-tailed eagles.
With so many geese in the air, the eagles can't single one out.
Hooded crows join the melee.
There's been a kill.
One of the eagles has brought a goose down.
They fight over the spoils on the rapidly emptying mud flats.
In Scots Gaelic, October is called the roaring time.
On Rum, the first hinds are finally coming into season.
Their scent pulls in stags from miles around.
At last, the rut can begin.
But the rules of this mating game are complex.
It's not won by muscle and brute force alone.
The hinds are attracted by the deepest and most powerful roars,
but they need males to treat them sensitively
or they'll choose a different stag.
The master of Rum's Kilmory Glen holds the best patch with the luscious grass.
It's attracted a large group of hinds.
Across the river, which marks the border of the master's domain,
another stag watches and waits.
He is older
this years rut might be his last.
The older stags side the river is rougher, with less grass
It is harder for him to hang on to the hinds.
Attracted by the master's roar
and the sweeter grazing across the water,
they just keep slipping away.
For the old stag to mate, he must cross the river and fight the master.
If the risk pays off and he wins, he could father many calves.
Staying put, means that he will probably father none.
Another hind slips away across the river,
but the old stag chooses not to follow her.
It could be a wise decision.
The master is constantly fighting off other stags and will start to tire.
The old stag will stand a better chance of winning
if he waits for exactly the right moment.
The geese that run in autumn, there runs a Gaelic saying,
"And now the whole of Islay rings with their cries."
They have found an unexpected treat in the form of barley.
This Autumn has been so wet, the farmers could not harvest the whole crop.
So some of the grain destined for the whisky distilleris is now feeding the birds.
The lush farmland of Islay is the reason
that the island is so special for the wildlife.
It's the best place in the Hebrides for raising cattle and sheep.
And because most of the farming here is gentle and low intensility,
there is plenty of space and surplus food for the wildlife.
Flocks of twight, declining in the rest of Britain,
make a great living here from what is left over.
Mid-autumn is a key point in the sheep farmer's year
as the flocks head for the October stock sale.
Buyers travel from across Britain to bid for the season's fattened lambs.
Despite all of the rain, they are looking in prime condition.
It's a great social occasion for the island too.
There is a real buzz.
Even the smallest lamb always finds a buyer.
And the celebrations will carry on deep into the night.
At dawn on the Isle of Rum. The old stag is making his move.
A hind has come into season on the master's side of the river.
He's finally decided to cross into enemy territory.
The master is fighting another stag on the hill.
This could be the old stag's chance.
But his decision may come with a heavy cost.
If he's injured, he may not survive the winter.
This may be the last chance to overthrow his rival and breed.
He's staking everything on this challenge.
The master sees off the stag on the hill,
but he's heard the old stag's roars.
Fights can be won or lost by the smallest error.
So every clash and Parry is critical.
The old stag is pushed back, the master has the advantage.
The old stag gives it his last supreme effort.
An antler in the eye would deter many stags but not the master.
The master moves into attack, but he slips.
The old stag pushes home his advantage.
Goring the master deep in his side.
Badly wounded, the master retreats.
It's all over for him.
It's been the wettest weather for the Hebrides,
but life here is adaptable and resilient.
It has to be.
In a place where the only certainty is constant change.
On Islay the Hooper swans are restless.
By now they would normally be in their winterering grounds,
but the unharvested barley has kept them here the whole autumn.
But now they are leaving.
Climbing into the slategrey sky.
The wheel of the seasons is turning.
Soon autumn will become winter.
Bringing more challenges to the animals of these islands on the edge.
Next time: Winter becomes spring in the Hebrides.
White-tailed eagles, the lords of the isles,
prepare for the breeding season,
in the face of the biggest spring storm in living memory.
The warming seas bloom with life.
And the season reaches its climax with the arrival of ocean juggernauts.