Interview with Mike Dilger, Director on location with the gyrfalcons

IRENE: Was this your first time in the Arctic or filming in the Arctic?

MIKE DILGER: Yes, I have spent over four years working in the tropical forests of Ecuador, Vietnam and Tanzania as a biologist, and then moving in to TV I have worked in in the countries of the USA, Peru, Costa Rica, Panama, Argentina and Honduras. So most of my prior experience was basically anywhere hot or moist, or both! 

IRENE: Can you tell us how this particular gyrfalcon family was located and selected for this film?

MIKE DILGER: Fergus Beeley, the Producer, found the location after discussion with a ranger called Ross Glenfield, who works for Parks Canada up in the High Arctic and had previously visited the site. The easy access of the location was confirmed by the expedition tour company Whitney & Smith, who are based in Canmore, Alberta and who lead kayaking trips up on Ellesmere Island.

IRENE: How and where did you set up your cameras to get footage of the gyrfalcons’ ancient cliff site?

MIKE DILGER: We filmed from three locations. One was from a rocky coll around 200m away to get the wide shots of the birds flying to and from the cliff. Most of the footage was shot from a stilt hide we built out of ski runners and spare timber about 25 meters from the rock face. The final filming position was at the top of the cliff face above the eyrie to get flying shots. 

IRENE: In the film, the chicks are on the verge of starving. One of the most common questions we get from NATURE viewers is how filmmakers respond to this type of situation.

MIKE DILGER: We simply film what happens, never interfere in any way and try to make a minimal impact. It would have put all the birds at risk to have climbed up into the eyrie and we certainly wouldn’t have been able to catch the food they needed to feed them! The only time we entered the eyrie was upon arrival just once to check on the state of the eggs and count the clutch.

IRENE: Any interesting stories you care to share about your experience? Difficulties? Rewarding experiences?

MIKE DILGER:  We were very keen to film a hunting sequence, but the vast majority of times they [the falcons] went hunting on the mainland making it impossible to follow them, and the only hope was catching them on a spontaneous hunt near the island. The only time this happened was when the female gyr killed a female eider on the island right behind the hide — our one blind spot! I didn’t even see it because I was too busy watching narwhal!

We had to be constantly on the look-out for polar bear as there were no buildings to hide in. And the only really close encounter we had was when I was on my own (The cameraman and guide were re-supplying from the mainland). As the bear looked at me from 20 meters away, I wasn’t sure whether to reach for the shotgun (in case it charged), my stills camera or binoculars. I opted for the binoculars and as it looked at me and ran off, I had a moment to savor as I realized I had made the right choice! 

Gyrfalcon chicks

The people who settled Iceland had to be hardy and courageous. And they had to be creative, if only to find ways to pass the time during the long, dark Icelandic winter, when the sun disappears from the sky for much of the day. Indeed, it may have been the challenge of keeping cooped-up families entertained that produced Iceland’s rich and varied literature. From heroic myths to ponderous sagas, Iceland’s artists have produced a wealth of work that continues to entertain the world to this day.

Many of these wonderful stories highlight how Icelanders perceived their natural neighbors. Iceland: Fire and Ice, for instance, profiles three birds — the whooping swan, the ptarmigan, and the gyrfalcon — that figure prominently in Icelandic myth. The elegant swans that come to Iceland’s lakes and hot springs each year, island residents believed, were god-like Valkyries: beautiful maidens who chose which heroes were to die in battle. Some believed the hot springs carried restorative powers that the Valkyries could find nowhere else on earth — and, in a sense, they were right. Iceland’s thermal pools do provide a rich array of food to ducks and other swimming birds, making them favored feeding grounds. Indeed, Iceland’s Lake Myvatn supports more than a dozen species of ducks in summer, more than are found anywhere else in Europe. The birds are partly attracted by the hordes of insects that breed in the lake — which explains its name, translated as “lake of the flying midges.”

The tale of the ptarmigan and the gyrfalcon is more dramatic. Once, legend has it, the plump, ground-dwelling ptarmigan and the fleet gyrfalcon hunter were sisters. They lived side by side, playfully tangling at times. One day, the gyrfalcon accidentally killed her sister without knowing it. When she realized what she had done, an anguished cry filled her throat and sprang from her beak, echoing across the land. To this day, the lonely cry of the gyrfalcon can be heard in the hills of Iceland.

Like the swan myth, the story of the gyrfalcon does carry the thread of truth. For the hunter and its prey are inexorably intertwined: some gyrfalcons dine solely on ptarmigan. To protect it from predators, in winter, the ptarmigan’s white plumage helps the bird blend into the snowy ground. In summer, however, only the female’s feathers change to a dull brown that allows it to hide in the snowless hills. The male remains a sparkling white, making it an easy target if it is caught in the open.

Fittingly, Icelanders even have a myth involving the change of the seasons. Each spring, they say, Freyr, the god of sunlight, must battle the enemy forces of winter to retake the skies. Each fall, however, Freyr must retreat again — and Icelanders cozy up in warm living rooms to retell ageless stories.