Springwatch - the highs and the lows

It was after my health and safety briefing about blood-sucking sheep and deer ticks that I realised these guys were more used to rigging sports fixtures than natural history outside broadcasts. They looked uneasy and began to inspect themselves even though they had just arrived from their B&Bs. Scott was the most worried. A few minutes later he was back, hands cupped, with something hidden inside. 'Are these ticks?' As he opened his hands, out flew a cloud of midges which promptly landed on his face and proceeded to bite him and then me. 'Er, no, they're Highland midges and they bite too'.

It was hard to believe that this long awaited moment - the arrival of the 'Springwatch' outside broadcast unit - was upon me. There had been eight months of build up, five 'recces' from technical, engineering and production teams and now here we all were. It wasn't quite what I had expected. When that nice Natural History Unit producer, Adam, had visited the previous October I asked him how many vehicles and people might turn up?  I had images in my head of the lines of OB trucks at Wimbledon. 'Oh no, it's not like that these days' he said reassuringly 'all the equipment fits into a transit van and there will only be about ten people max'.  So when the fleet of 3 large trucks, satellite vehicle, generator, catering van, sundry cars, a single decker 'restaurant' bus, two portaloos and 30 crew rolled up to the entrance of the Loch Frisa track I began to wonder if they'd sent the Wimbledon OB crew after all.

Undaunted (well a little) I escorted the convoy up the forestry track to their new home well away from the sea eagle nest they had come to film. As the new BBC village settled in, the sheer scale of the Springwatch OB on Mull finally dawned on me. My job was to 'manage' them all regarding access near the sea eagle nest which had two healthy chicks in it. We had licences from Scottish Natural Heritage and permission and Risk Assessments from the landowners Forestry Commission Scotland. Now it was down to me from RSPB Scotland to make sure nothing went wrong: for the BBC to get their stunning live pictures and for the sea eagles to behave as if everything was normal.

There may have been alot of them but everyone had a vital role and was critical to the OB working efficiently. The riggers reeled out miles of heavy cables; cameras and equipment weighing vast amounts were hauled into position up slippery slopes and across burns; cameramen were positioned at strategic points and walked in and out of hides at dawn and dusk; microphones were placed here and there and then yet more cables were rolled out.  As the last connection was made to Johnny's Camera 1 and his 100:1 lens began to transmit live pictures back to the gallery with its bank of monitors, a wave of relief flowed over everyone and especially me.

There on the screen was Frisa, our magnificent female sea eagle feeding her two 6 week old chicks and in such wonderful close-up. She was completely at ease never looking the way of the hide or camera lens and for the first time we could see every  detail of life in our sea eagle's nest. It was all beginning to feel worth the stress, hassle and nightmares.

From early morning, cameraman Gordon Buchanan would be on site capturing every move of the eagles flying in and out with prey or fending off dive-bombing ospreys; one morning Gordon filmed the male Skye fly off towards a bracken-covered slope where he proceeded to snatch a rabbit off a feral cat which was settling down to eat its breakfast. Skye had watched the whole hunt, he picked his moment and grabbed his prize before returning with it to feed the chicks at the nest. This was new, never before recorded behaviour.

By 12 noon everyone else (having slept off their previous night's entertainment at the Mishnish Hotel) would arrive bright-eyed and ready for action. Well, ready for action anyway. All would be in position by 2pm for the first local rehearsal. Presenter Simon King, cameramen, soundman, floor manager and others would ascend the slippery slope to Simon's (now famous) tree stump. I would squeeze myself into position in the gallery alongside the director, producer, vision mixer, vision superviser, production coordinator, et al and watch the show unfold. No pressure at this point; it was only a local rehearsal after all. All quite relaxed in the gallery (compared to 8pm tonight). Dubious jokes; chit-chat; gossip ('what on earth are they up to in Devon? Isn't Kate lovely? What has Bill got on today?'); the occasional song; boxes of chocolates passed around; cups of tea consumed.

'Frisa's coming in with something huge': Richard on Camera 4 had peered through his attendant cloud of midges and focussed on the female flapping hard across the loch and descending steeply to land with a flurry of wings in the top of the spruce tree at the loch edge. 'Record on 4 please'. 'Recording'.

The long, stringy bits of gut and sinew now entwined around the top branches of the tree had four legs attached to it. Frisa had found a well eaten lamb on the hill and scavenged it from the hoodies which had already eaten most of it. Strangely she left it there and flew off. 'Skye's coming in on Camera 3. Nice shot Mike. Hold that and record on 3 please'. 'Recording'. Half way through my third chocolate, I nearly choked...

Read the conclusion to my heart-stopping moment tomorrow.

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer