My baby might never have happened "This is a huge, live show!" she cries. Huge! Live! It's got the best of the BBC Natural History Unit, the best of programmes like Frozen Planet, the real-time coverage of Big Cat Live, and it's never been done before. Showing three days a week over the space of a month, the series will document the life of some of the planet's most iconic animals - lions, whales, sea otters, polar bears - captured by film crews across thousands of miles and six different time zones. "Did I mention that it's live?" repeats Bradbury, giddily. I mean, anything could go wrong! Nothing will, of course, at least not for Bradbury, who has a broadcasting CV longer than one of Wainwright's walks. She will be based in Minnesota, watching black bears, while her co-presenter, Top Gear's Richard Hammond, will be 8,167 miles away in Africa. But it's a sure bet that not every cute-as-a-button bear cub bumbling out of the den in search of a spot of lunch will make it back in again. And as for those gorgeous, glossy sea otter pups, well, you'd better stay tuned with a box of Kleenex, folks. When she breaks the news about the grey whales, swimming along with their newborn calves, who suddenly find themselves hijacked and harried by killer whales, intent on separating them, I can bear it no longer. I'm not going to watch! I shriek. It's like an episode of Springwatch directed by Michael Winner. I'm still getting over that owl fledgling who ate his siblings in 2007, and now you tell me there will be starving bears and whale calves in extremis. Bradbury nods in sympathy, but stands firm. I think we'll all be close to tears if a grey whale calf gets it, but that's the heart‑stopping drama of nature. She has had her own recent brush with nature's unexpected drama, having become pregnant in 2010, despite a diagnosis of endometriosis some years ago, which led her to fear that she and her partner, Irish property developer Gerard Cunningham, 53, might never conceive. During her pregnancy the excitement was tempered by the fact that, while her father was being treated for prostate cancer, her mother ("she might be Greek but she was born in Wales, so let's not get too carried away") was diagnosed with bowel cancer. Fortunately, both pulled through and after the birth of her son, Zephyrus, Bradbury's breathless description of him as her "little miracle" has rather dogged her since. "Blah, blah, blah, it's a real blessing and all that," she says, rolling her eyes in an attempt at cynicism, which, although amusing, is utterly unconvincing. It's such a cliché but I really wasn't prepared for the joy I would feel when I see his smile in the morning. I'm so appreciative of him because I'm an older mother and he might never have happened. Now aged nine months, Zeph, as he is known, is the reason why Bradbury is so pleased with her more sedate US gig, rather than spitting tacks at missing out on the African safari to Hammond. "My priority on Planet Earth Live was taking Zeph with me," she says. I always knew I would continue working after his birth, so it was a case of finding a way to fit it all in. Quite so; gung-ho Bradbury famously discharged herself from hospital after a 33-hour labour in order to host her birthday lunch for 25 people. It was unsurprising, then, that she took motherhood in her stride and pitched up 10 weeks later to film her project with Hugh Dennis, The Great British Countryside, with the baby in a sling. He's very chilled and portable, so I can take him on location. It's actually much harder being at home, because I find it impossible to get anything done; the feeding and changing and washing seem to take up every waking moment. The daughter of a British steel executive, Bradbury was brought up in Derbyshire, where her mother, Chrissi, ran a fashion business. It was from her mother that she inherited her get-up-and-go, as well as her exotic looks. I've got Greek-y skin, which is really handy, and Greek-y hair which is strong, but if I don't go to the colourist every four weeks, I look like a badger. Having replaced Miriam O'Reilly, 54, on Countryfile, who went on to sue the BBC for age discrimination, Bradbury is acutely conscious of the issue of older women on television. Although she is quick to point out that at the age of 38 she was ousted from Watchdog when grande dame Anne Robinson, then 64, decided to return to the show after an eight-year absence, Bradbury is level-headed about the importance of looks. "When I was starting out on Live TV, Janet Street Porter's station, everyone referred to me as Bradders The Old Horse, and it was pointed out that I had an enormous honker," she says cheerfully. Even now, I get teased that in high-definition my nose is going to look like a mountain, but you know, you just have to get on with the job; is there someone waiting in the wings to tap me on the shoulder and tell me I need a lift or Botox? The United States, she says, has a much more progressive attitude towards mature women broadcasters; Katie Couric is 55, Diane Sawyer 66, and Barbara Walters is still working at the venerable age of 82. I went to a BBC dinner recently and there were three women in the room and two of us were over 40. By comparison, three of the men were over 80. Can you see a female version of Bruce Forsyth making it on to prime time? But audiences need to change, too. Perhaps perceptions are evolving. Earlier this year, BBC director-general Mark Thompson admitted he had "got it wrong" on older women and there needed to be many more in newsreading and presentational roles. Viewers also have a loyalty to broadcasters they have watched over the years. Fiona Bruce is 48, Kirsty Wark is 57, and the very idea that they might reach a nominal sell-by date and be turfed out on their ears is nothing short of scandalous. Meanwhile, Bradbury hopes to emulate Sir David Attenborough by standing at the poles, "if they still exist," in her eighties. But first come the rigours of Planet Earth Live, which is already promising to be appointment television. "I was asked by the producers whether I was going to be emotional enough, as I always seem so in control," she says. It wouldn't be very professional of me to break down into floods of tears, but I can tell already that it will be hard to watch the animals, whose stories you've been following so closely, get into difficulties. You can't help them, you have to let nature take its course. Maybe I will have to watch the show in that case, if only to yell: "Give that hungry cub a sandwich, Bradders, you Old Horse!" Planet Earth Live" starts on Sunday at 8pm on BBC One