麻豆约拍

By Estelle Ngoumtsa (Researcher)

We often consider the Amazon rainforest as being “the lungs of our planet”, but the ice sheets that crown this Earth are just as vital.

The poles are essentially the beating heart, controlling the currents and weather systems, and circulating the nutrients that sustain life around the world. Together, Antarctica and the Arctic act as a giant thermostat, keeping the earth’s temperature in perfect balance for humans to thrive. Without them, life as we know it wouldn’t be able to exist. We may not even have developed had it not been for their presence, and if they were removed, our home would be unrecognisable and far less hospitable for human life. Their isolation and inaccessibility makes it hard to grasp just how essential they are, and I feel incredibly lucky to have witnessed the power that they hold.

My infatuation first developed when studying the ice sheets during my master’s degree as a Geophysicist. I had the privilege of travelling to the far northern regions of the Arctic to do field work. Stepping foot onto the crisp, untouched snow for the first time I was hit by a wave of emotions. First, I was in complete awe. Its vast, unblemished state feels like a totally alien world, void of the rhythms of day-to-day life. But then came this duality. A deep sense of gratitude - stillness - inner peace, then drowned by overwhelming urgency. It serves a crucial role on this earth, reflecting up to 90% of the Sun’s energy and making it habitable for us. Yet, we are idly watching it vanish before our very eyes, along with all the weird and wonderful species that share this home.

I suddenly realised the immense pressure we are under to protect it. Luckily, I was surrounded by a group of pioneering scientists trying to do this very thing. The poles already do so much for us, despite being under strain, but they also have so much to teach us. Ice sheets are built, layer upon layer, by snowfall onto land year after year. Each layer compresses the one beneath it, eventually forming an enormous dome of ice, an ice cap. Within each layer of snow lies a snapshot of the atmosphere from that year—an imprint of the climate at that moment in time. By drilling deep into the ice sheet’s core, we can reveal an accurate chronological history of the Earth’s climate. This is what brought me here, and where my passion for the poles began.

But my journey didn’t end there. Since then, I have had the incredible opportunity to experience these unique ecosystems not only from a scientific perspective, but also through the lens of storytelling and communication. As a researcher in Natural History production, I am now able to champion these incredible regions through compelling narratives for a global audience—whether that’s through Frozen Planet II or, more recently, Expedition Killer Whale.

Expedition Killer Whale gave me a unique insight into Antarctica for the first time, through the eyes of killer whales.

Killer whales - or orca - number hundreds of thousands worldwide. But in a remote network of icy channels on the coast of Antarctica lives a small population of unique killer whales - B1s - that wash seals off small pieces of ice. Like synchronised swimmers, they pump their tails in unison to create enormous waves that can wash the seals off a piece of ice in one dramatic sweep. But their habitat, the Antarctic Peninsula, is one of the most rapidly warming areas in the Southern Hemisphere. It is warming 5 times faster than the global average. Like many other animals here, the future of pack ice killer whales is uncertain.

B1s spend 95% of their time under the surface, out of sight, so unlocking their secrets was challenging to say the least. But this expedition saw the marrying of two worlds, with both scientists and filmmakers embarking on a mission to understand both their lives, and their interconnection with the world around them.

Expedition Killer Whale allowed me to do a deep dive into the intricacies of how these dolphins (yes, dolphins!) navigate their rapidly changing world, and I have witnessed these animals on an intimate level. Trawling through hundreds of hours of footage, I’ve gained a strong connection to these animals and a novel perspective. What struck me most was the tenderness they show, often misunderstood in the shadow of their reputation as ruthless hunters. In truth, they spend much of their time simply being.

They live in close-knit family groups, spending as much time socialising, playing, learning, bonding and communicating as they do hunting. But most strikingly, what I observed and researched was that it is not an ‘every man from himself’ society. These killer whales understand that cooperation is key to thriving in such a harsh environment—whether with blood relatives or not. Cooperation within the pod is essential to their survival, they work together to hunt, share food and take care of the young and elderly. They have also been known to hunt with other killer whale groups, without any expectation of reward, recognising the value of teamwork beyond their immediate family.

With the climate crisis looming over our heads, we should look to these killer whales for guidance on how to adapt to a rapidly changing world. Killer whales have remarkable brains, with the most powerful ‘insular cortex’ in the animal kingdom, the part responsible for empathy and compassion. They have also mastered the shifting flow of wind, tides and ice, but it’s becoming less predictable, like our weather.

Both the killer whales and us face an uncertain future, but ecology is teeming with examples of community, teamwork and collective action. If we could learn just one thing from these killer whales, it would be the power in adopting more gentleness, care, and mutual aid into our own ways of life. The climate crisis affects people in a multitude of ways, with the most vulnerable among us often bearing the heaviest burden. Like the pack ice killer whales, we too can look beyond our immediate circles and extend our empathy to those who need it most.