Arctic ingdom: Life At the Edge
In the far northern reaches of planet Earth
lies an alien sea of ice its waves frozen in time
in darkness, in uncompromising cold
It's winter on the Arctic Ocean
But a great power is returning to conquer this frozen sea
The sun's rays touch the ice
and like a living thing it responds
As the ice surrenders to the rising sun
it becomes a world in motion
a shifting stage full of danger and drama
Where creatures are trapped between moving sheets
Stranded on the frozen waters
Caught in the struggle to live in one of the harshest places on earth
And where the ice meets the open sea
the sun awakens a world of strange and glorious life
This is the Arctic under the sun a short
brilliant season of survival a miracle
and a resurrection at the edge of the ice
After three months of winter's hard darkness
the fisrt light of spring spreads a glow
across the ice It's dawn in the Arctic in the season of eternal sun
A lone predator stalks the ice in the early light
A polar bear is on the prowl
in different to the killing cold
Even in temperatures of fifty below
he doesn't hibernate
The bear is the supreme master of winter on the ice
He can grow to seventeen hundred pounds of hunting power
but his life depends on just one creature
The ringed seal takes a quick breath
and returns to his world below the ice
He, too, has endured all winter
just beneath the feet of his mortal enemy
It's April. A female is also on the ice
bringing her cubs out hunting for the first time
They were born four long months ago
and since then, their mother's had nothing to eat
Her sense of smell is so keen
that she can detect her prey
through several feet of snow and half a mile away
She seeks out ridges where drifting snow
covers the breathing hole of a ringed seal
Inside this protective snow cap a seal has dug al lair
She catches his scent
The seal rests but only sleeps a few seconds at a time
its sharp hearing tuned to danger
A tense contest of the senses begins
Even the top predator on the ice misses 19 times out of 20
And yet, the mother bear will need to kil
at least two seals a week to keep her cubs alive
The seal is safe for the moment
but each new trip to the surface
to breathe could end in another ambush
It's an oversized game of cat and mouse
The bear eats mostly the blubber
licking bits of fat from the snow
A stealthy white shadow has been following the bear
An Arctic fox
For days he has been tracking the great hunter
crossing miles of ice in hopes of leftovers from a kill
When hunting is good, the bear leaves a feast behind
The fox finds a morsel and buries it a precaution
against an unpredictable future
The sun now skims the horizon
and will not set again for four months
Day by day
it begins to take control of the ice in the seasonal tug of war
between darkness and light
But for nearly half the year
the far north is angled away from the sun
and sleeps in the dark shadow of winter
Left in the deep-freeze of space
the Arctic seas lie covered with six million square miles of ice
As the year progresses
the planet swings around the sun
Light returns to the top of the world
With 24-hour sunshine the polar ice begins to retreat
By spring, the ice edge has receded to a tangle of islands
in the high Canadian Arctic
and to the entrance of Lancaster Sound
An ice-breaker cuts the first breech of the year
through six feet of solid ice
It brings goods to and from villages
and mining outposts 500 miles north of the Arctic Circle
For the ship, the ice is an obstacle
For some, it is home
The Init have carved life from this place for 4,000 years
The ice is their world
and spring promises a rich season of hunting ahead
The ice itself has been guarding a secret world
But now the crystal fortress begins to crack
its walls pierced by light
In the shallows forty feet below
the sun reveasl a garden of unexpected color
Golden sea anemones... bright orange starfish
and small crustaceans awaken from a winter trance
Overhead, the skylight of ice glows green with life
A vast pasture of algae now blooms on its surface
spreading across the sea for hundreds of miles
Countless young fish
and shrimplike creatures come here to graze
These in turn become food for staggering numbers of Arctic cod
Protected by the shield of ice
some half million tons of cod flourish in Lancaster Sound
All this abundance is solar powered
As light floods the water, it sets off an explosion of life
Great stores of food can now be reached
where the ice meets open water
It's May, and animals begin to gather
for this annual feast of spring
Thick-billed murres fly in
from the North Atlantic to plunder the cold waters for cod
They flock to Lancaster Sound in the hundreds of thousands
Murres are uncertain aviators
Their true medium is water
Once beneath the waves
they're the Arctic version of a penguin
With short
flipper like wings they dive nearly 300 feet
for three minutes at a time
On the way back up
air trapped in their feathers expands
They rocket to the surface in a jet trail of bubbles
At the ice edge nearby
a polar bear scents the shifting wind
As though navigating by satellite
he continues to hunt across the same range
even as the ice turns into ocean
Beneath his fur
the white bear has jet black skin to absorb heat
from the sun when he's on the surface
In the near freezing water
four inches of blubber keep him warm and afloat
He's not above taking a bird or two
But the murres take no notice and prepare to leave
for they have an urgent appointment to keep
Timing is everything here
and the schedule is set by the sun
The murres head for land
The short breeding season has begun
and for those who come late
there'll be no second chance
Their destination is a lonely outpost in Lancaster Sound
...the towering cliffs of Prince Leopold Island
Half a million seabirds crowd onto these rocky ledges
one thousand feet above the sea
The murres alone number almost 200,000
Vicious fighting breaks out as the murres battle
for the safest nest sites
They lay only a single egg pear shaped to prevent
it from rolling off the narrow rock shelf
The stronger, more aggressive birds win sites midway down the cliff
leaving the weaker birds at the top
where they're most vulnerable
An Arctic fox has been stranded here
as the ice retreated from the island
His white winter fur has been replaced by a sleek, brown coat
A castaway for the summer
he hunts alone on an island of birds
He heads for the cliffs the only place to find food on the island
Faced with a dangerous thief
the birds abandon their eggs
And though they can lay another
a late season chick will not survive
The fox steals all the eggs he can reach
but he'll need dozens each week to stay alive
Some he stashes in the cold ground
There will be lean days ahead
It's June. A hundred miles from the island
a fleet of white whales has arrived at the ice edge
belugas hunting for cod
The sea is suddenly alive with sound
This chirping white chorus emerges
from feeding grounds beneath the frozen sea
like a gathering of polar ghosts
With no dorsal fin to impede their icy travels
these are true Arctic whales
The belugas' rich symphony of sounds hints
at the complexity of their lives
Their sonar may be the most sophisticated of any whale
Navigating under miles of ice
they bounce clicks off shifting floes
using a kind of "sound imaging" to master their world
Their melodies pulse from their rounded foreheads
the frequencies fine tuned
like a focused beam of light piercing the blue depths
The bonds between them are strong
A mother and calf will swim side by side for three years
Shadowy gray at birth
they only gradually turn as perfectly white as the surrounding ice
The sun is riding high now
Strong winds from the open sea unleash their power against the ice
Beaten by wind and wave weakened by sun and current
the ice fractures and begins to split apart
lmmense cracks open behind the leading edge of the ice
These "leads" extend for miles
opening up new feeding areas and hunting grounds
The Inuit are experts at navigating the tricky ice fields of spring
It's a skill born of necessity of the ancient
need to hunt on this ever changing surface
Olyuk knows how to read the ice
Still men and machines are sometimes lost
In the old days
entire hunting parties could disappear without a trace
They are now sixty miles from home
They are hoping the trip will end in a successful hunt
but it may take days
Not far away, one of the most aggressive animals
in the Arctic hauls out to rest adult walruses
heavily armored with tusks and skin that is one inch thick
Their skulls are massive
and backed by a body weighing one ton
they can bash through nine inches of ice
Out of the water
their only enemies are polar bears and human hunters
The walrus feed on vast beds of clams buried 200 feet below
in the muddy sea floor
Each one can eat thousands of clams in a single meal
And the mud harbors less obvious
but just as deadly predators
A carnivorous snail begins a slow
methodical attack
It smells the clam hiding in the mud
and tries to penetrate the tightly closed shell
But the clam can defend itself
with a strong kick from its single foot
Even stranger creatures patrol the dark ooze
They thrive in the near freezing waters of the Arctic feeding
on the remains of the dead
...and on each other
Overhead, the surface is warming up
Frozen salt ater melts first
and from deep inside the ice
salty brine begins to drain away
Plumes of supercool
salty liquid spill downward out of holes in the ice
freezing the waters just beneath
Hollow stalactites build up around the draining brine
some reaching three feet in length
The waves continue to hammer at the ice
and the edge gives way under the relentless assault
Ind and strong currents push ice floes together
Massive blocks pile up and over each other
building miniature mountain ranges
In the wake of the shifting ice giants come to fee
The bowhead whale is named for its great curving jaw
A favorite target of whalers
it has never recovered from two centuries of slaughter
Numbering only in the hundreds
bowheads in the eastern Arctic make their last stand
Reaching 60 feet in length
it's the largest animal in the Arctic seas
Yet the bowhead comes to feed on the smallest
Energized by the touch of the sun
the depths now pulse with millions of minute animals
They seem electrified
their transparent bodies glimmer with iridescent light
More liquid than solid
these delicate drifters are miracles of survival
wrapped in enchanting beauty
But to live here, they must also kill
A jelly trails its long tentacles snaring a copepod
then reeling it in to its death
These tiny hunters float in a world of their own
unaware of the leviathan that could devour their entire universe
The bowhead sweeps through the water
like a living trawl net
Between the cavernous jaws
dark sheets called baleen filter the water
collecting thousands of small creatures
lts enormous white tongue will scrape the baleen clean
harvesting the sea one giant mouthful at a time
The sun is winning control of the ice
and the surface pools with melt water
Temperatures now reach a balmy 40 degrees
Dripping water measures the fleeting season
the sound of summer ticking away
Fresh leads break into the remaining ice
The Arctic's most intriging creature moves in from the sea
The narwhal - with its ivory tusk
a living tooth up to ten feet long
The whales converge along the narrow highway
This is what Olyuk has been looking for
Hunting is at the heart of Inuit culture
a way of life and a skill still passed down from father to son
It's a proud link to the past
and the only way to live off the land in the Arctic
Today, the Inuit are still allowed to hunt whales
but their take is strictly controlled
Yet Olyuk remembers the not so distant days
when hunting meant the difference between life and death
They have landed a female only males have a tusk
Whale skin is especially nutritious high in vitamin C
Without such a diet
the Inuit would have suffered from the scurvy
which plagued many Arctic expeditions
Eaten raw, it's a delicacy called "muktuk."
In the still twilight of midnight
te narwhals joust a slow
stately ritual of mythic beasts
The purpose of their strange single tusk remains a mystery
Like the peacock's tail and the lion's mane
it may serve as a banner of male prowess
It could be a weapon
But it's the stuff of legend
In the Middle Ages
the tusks were sold as unicorn horns
for ten times their weight in gold
The sea ice is flooded now
although beneath the water
the ice is still several feet thick
Out on the melting surface
an abandoned ringed seal has lost her bearings
She has wandered away from her breathing hole
and cannot find her way back
Now, she is trapped above the ice an easy target
for a hungry polar bear
And if she cannot return to the sea beneath her
she will starve
The young seal is now exhausted
but luck finally leads her to a hole in the ice
She is safe, but now she's in unknown territory
a long way from her familiar network of breathing holes
She won't stray far for a while
All around her the ice is changing
The pasture of algae
that once blanketed the surface has sloughed off
and joined together in flowing ribbons of green
Long tendrils reach out to absorb light
and nutrients from the passing currents
A new lead has opened in the ice
and a pod of narwhals comes streaming into the crack
They usually travel in small numbers
but when fishing is good hundreds may come together
As they enter the crack
these specialized hunters take a risk
The opening unlocks a rich store of Arctic cod
but the ice is still shifting
Without warning, the lead closes off
The whales are trapped
The entire pod must surface to breathe
in this small pool of open water
They bob up and down in a crush of bodies
careful not to wound each other with their tusks
If the hole closes over completely
the narwhals will have to make a run for open water
if they don't find it
they will suffocate and die
Then suddenly, as unpredictably a it closed
the lead reopens and the whales are free
High off the cliffs of Prince Leopold Island
fulmars and kittiwakes ride the wild winds
Even gusts of 40 miles per hour present no problem
for these aerial acrobats
Landing is the tricky part
There is new life in the murre colony
The adult birds are busy plying back and forth to the sea
returning with cod for their young
The chick will need to triple
its weight over the next three weeks
and feeds round the clock in the constant daylight
At the top of the cliff
glaucous gull chicks are hungry too
But gulls don't limit their diet to fish
This one goes hunting closer to home
looking for an unprotected chick
It returns with a grisly catch
For the fox, these are hungry times
Egg laing is over and the chicks have hatched out of his reach
He has only his store of buried eggs to see him through
High summer finally reaches the Arctic
The last remnants of ice swirl near the shores of Lancaster Sound
The frozen sea is broken at last
drifting in tattered pieces on the current
Moving inshore are the gleaming white shapes of belugas
They return by the hundreds to the same inlets they frequent each year
Their smooth, white skin has turned yellow and wrinkled
It's time to molt
On the rocky bottom of the shallows
the whales scrape off their old
weathered skin with a rejuvenating rub
Terns wheel overhead and dive for bits of molted skin
As the tide turns, the whales retreat into deeper water
But one young beluga has pushed too far inshore
The benevolent sun now becomes his greatest enemy
He could easily sunburn and out of the cold water
he could overheat
The others can do nothing
The rocks have cut his sensitive skin
All he can do is wait for the incoming tide
With one last surge
the young beluga recovers his freedom
It's only August, but atumn is closing in on the murre colony
The chicks are just three weeks old still unable to fly
Yet the time has come to leave the island
Escorted by its father
a chick makes its way
through a gauntlet of hostile adults stilldefending their ledges
Driven by irresistible instinct
the chick prepares to make an incredible leap
from the thousand foot cliff
With its father close behind he plummets to the waters below
For the next eight weks they'll drift southward
as the young murres grow the feathers
they need to finally take to the air
The fox is left alone
His stash of eggs is gone
and he may starve before he can escape the island
The moon now looks down on Lancaster Sound the cold
pale face of the coming winter
All across the Arctic, animals are on the move
fleeing the coming freeze
The cold is returning to claim these seas
The great bowheads depart
as their food supply begins to dwindle in the fading light
Slowly, the surface begins to transform crystals congeal into grease ice
then thicken into pancake ice
The season of the sun is over
Soon, winter and the white bear will stalk the ice once more
Cold howls across the empty expanse of frozen sea
Darkness deepens
The bear settles in to stay
and the Arctic turns once more toward the dark night of space