Skye tried to lift the prey off the tree but it was so entangled he couldn’t and he fell, twisting and writhing, wings flapping, talons still firmly embedded in the prey. I strained my eyes at the bank of monitors, desperately trying to work out if he’d injured himself, broken a leg or a wing. Please, no! The calm in the gallery shattered as what looked initially like a “good bit of telly” began to look more like a serious incident unfolding in front of us. We were powerless to help. Producer looked at director; director looked at vision mixer; they all looked at me with my expression of pure panic and my hands now almost covering my eyes. It all went very quiet. I couldn’t bear to watch but knew I had to. Thoughts of rescue flashed through my mind. Skye was still hanging, now apparently lifeless, upside down. Could we climb the 40 foot tree to free him? Could we fell the tree and slowly lower it to the ground and rescue him? At that moment I had no idea and the whole unbearable implications of it all would be displayed to the nation that evening on BBC2 at 8pm: not normally prone to blind panic, a few stray thoughts occurred to me: the chicks would die, I’d probably lose my job, we’d have to leave the island…
Richard held his focus on Camera 4; Mike on 3 had Frisa screaming in alarm at her disabled mate. And then, as if he had finally got the message from her to release his grip on the prey, Skye dropped out of the tree like a stone and then wheeled up and around to perch nearby as if nothing was wrong and it had all been perfectly normal. The second time he tried it, he succeeded in yanking off the lamb’s head (which Simon that evening on air delicately called “a morsel”) and took it proudly to the nest for chicks Itchy and Scratchy to nibble on in the sea eagle tapas bar.
And so the week flashed by: drama, awe, crisis, excitement, stress; and a lot of laughs. And a lot of viewers: “3.3 million last night; great audience share; high audience appreciation index; beat Big Brother and Celebrity Love Island”. How about that? My sea eagles beating off Abi Titmuss! It had all been worth it after all. And now the end was near. Nick in VT had edited a beautiful highlights package of the eagle’s week. My family watching at home had tears in their eyes. “Cue closing credits [who would get a credit tonight?]…one minute before the end of transmission…6, 5, 4, 3, 2 ,1 and off air”. The first live week of Springwatch was over. Everyone else had another two weeks of stress and organised chaos ahead of them in London and on the Farnes. For me, it was a return to near normality although for all of us and the eagles, nothing could ever be quite the same again. The riggers de-rigged in record time at the end of the show. It’s amazing what the promise of a pint from the producer at the Mishnish will do. As the light was fading, Scott came up to me again: “Is this a tick?” He unfolded his hand to reveal a large shiny black slug. “You’d be in trouble if it was. That’s a slug”. Later I asked one of the cameramen what Scott’s job was:“He’s Head of the Natural History Unit” he replied, quick as a flash.
That night I had a nightmare. Not only Skye, but Frisa and the two chicks also got themselves hopelessly entangled in the tops of the trees. After I’d spent an age trying to free them, Skye flew off in a rage, picked up a huge, full terracotta flower pot from my patio at home and then dropped it from a great height onto the OB vehicles. How bizarre was that? And you didn’t have to be Freud to attach some meaning to it.
In reality, I missed them all when they’d gone. The buzz and excitement; the stunning pictures and the catering. Ah, that banoffee pie! And still now, after all this time, I find my pulse quickening and butterflies in my stomach at 5 minutes to eight and the theme music starts. What’s the weather like tonight? How will Mull look? What will the eagles do ‘live’?
“One minute before they come to Mull. One minute”
“Stand by everybody…and good luck!”
Tomorrow we're back at Loch Frisa with a full update on where the chicks have been and what they've been up to.
Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer