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Their voices embody the sound of wilderness - the snow white plumage and yellow and black bills are the 24-carat hallmark of wild beauty.

Most of the Icelandic breeding population of these big birds return to our shores ahead of a bitter winter in the land of fire and ice. Over 20,000 of them, travelling in family groups, come to the British Isles every winter. About 60 per cent of them come to Ireland and around 1,500 settle into the wetlands around .

I spotted my first whoopers at , close to my home near Lurgan, in County Armagh, in mid October. The seven adults and cygnets had rusty necks and heads, the telltale stains of iron oxide from the muddy waters of a marsh somewhere in Iceland.

I love to see that, because it's a clue that they have only just completed an arduous 800-mile trip across the Atlantic. The ruddy hue wears and washes off after a couple of weeks being back with us.

A friend texted to say that she'd heard noisy whoopers flying over her house near the River Foyle in the far north-west of Northern Ireland, all day on October 30. They'd chosen Halloween to move on from Lough Foyle, and sure enough, when I went to see 'my birds' on the shores of Lough Neagh the next day, there were 27 of them in the Closet Meadows, heads down and grazing hard, among lapwing and .

Unlike our resident mute swans, whoopers are wild and wary of people, so the best views are nearly always at a distance, through binoculars or a spotting scope. But for the past few days I've been enjoying seriously up close and personal encounters with these big and boisterous visitors.

From dawn to dusk, the Autumnwatch team has been capturing breathtaking images of whoopers roosting and feeding at , an internationally important area for wintering wild fowl.

It's been amazing, we've even had them flying directly over our heads as they commute to and from the same flooded fields they come to every year.

It's been a memorable experience - made all the more enjoyable because I shared it with RSPB swan expert Seamus Burns. His insight into the secrets of swan society, his interpretation of their behaviour, his work to protect their winter haunts far into the future are all an education and an inspiration.

Waiting alongside Seamus for the whoopers to return to the lough to roost - surrounded by flickering flocks of lapwing, whistling in the rushes and hunched against the cold - I was struck by how lucky I was to be standing there.

Then, just after 5pm, as an opal moon rose in the east and the sun sank into the pink, peach and amber west the whooping started. White birds were silhouetted back against the pale horizon. Their raucous calls built to a crescendo in the darkness. The black sky was punctuated by swans and stars. What a spectacular way to celebrate the start of winter!

To watch Darryl's films about whooper swans, join Autumnwatch at 8.30pm on Thursday 25 November, Ö÷²¥´óÐã Two.