Original subtitles

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Nestled at the foot of these sheer cliffs

is a wild and overgrown terrain,

shards of light

the only solace in a dark, dank world.

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Rooted here lives a giant,

a 600-year-old Outeniqua Yellowwood.

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Towering 35 meters above the forest floor,

…it is the tallest native tree in South Africa.

From its topmost branches

to the ground below,

the Giant provides shelter and food

to those that hide amongst its branches.

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For centuries the Titan has seen life come and go.

What secrets does it hold in its boughs?

It is the keeper of tales in this ancient realm.

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This is the Soutpansberg,

the rugged backbone to the Limpopo province

in the northern most corner of South Africa.

The Giant Yellowwood rules over this jungle.

It’s regent of the mountains.

March marks the end of summer in the Soutpansberg.

At first glance, this Eden seems deserted,

but it’s easy for life here

to hide in the overgrown thicket.

The echoing chatter of birds

provides the only solace

that breaks the haunting silence.

A booming call

joins the ceaseless chorus of bird-song.

The canopy is home to South Africa’s only

exclusively forest dwelling primate,

the Samango monkey.

Notoriously skittish,

it’s a rare treat

to catch a glimpse of this shy forest resident.

It has a large family,

thirty-eight members.

Within this troop is a single breeding male

who presides over his harem of females

and their offspring.

The Samangos are drawn to what is referred to

as the Yellowwood’s ‘fruit’.

But fruits come from flowers,

and there are none of those here.

Outeniqua Yellowwoods

belong to an ancient family of trees called conifers,

which evolved long before

flowering plants appeared on the planet.

Instead

they produce male and female cones,

found on separate trees.

Only females produce this so-called fruit.

This giant

is in fact

queen of the forest.

One year since her cones were pollinated,

clusters of succulent, yellow fruit

now hang from her branches.

Less than two centimeters in diameter,

they have quite a resinous flavor.

Still, birds and other animals

enjoy their taste,

and flock to the yellowwood’s branches.

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The monkeys’ discarded seeds and chewed fruit chunks

fall to the forest floor.

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Crested Guineafowl

greedily peck at the scraps.

During fruiting season,

the Yellowwood, helped by the monkeys,

serves a banquet of discarded fruit

to the flock.

In fact,

monkeys and guineafowl often forage together,

the birds scavenging

on the primates’ rejected leftovers.

There’s another benefit to this odd coupling…

more eyes to look out for predators,

both on the ground,

and up above.

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In these warm summer months

the Samangos welcome new members into their troop.

A female usually only gives birth

to one infant a year,

not taking her eyes off it

for the first month of its life.

A youngster desperately clings to his mother

as she clambers through the forest

in search of food.

His mother relies on the nutrients

from the Yellowwood’s fruit

to produce her milk,

a supply she will need to maintain

as she nurses him over the next two years.

But monkeys and Guineafowl

aren’t the only ones to reap the Queen’s rewards.

From her branches

a hollow call echoes through the forest.

Purple-crested Turacos

eat almost exclusively fruit

and frequently visit the giant in fruiting season.

Their glossy, colorful plumage

is a sight to behold,

with beautiful crimson flight feathers.

But they’re not the greatest of fliers.

Instead they nimbly run on branches in the canopy,

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bounding and gliding from limb to limb.

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Turacos and other fruit-eating birds

disperse the Giant’s seeds

all over the forest.

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Darkness descends

over the mountain.

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Wandering stars ignite the evening sky.

For six centuries,

this titan amongst trees

has stood witness to this cosmic wonder.

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Creatures of the night stir.

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Amongst them,

a woodland dormouse is out on the prowl.

Usually the bushy-tailed scavenger

forages in the treetops,

but tonight

it’s rummaging

between the fallen Yellowwood fruit

for a tasty tidbit,

all the while

cautiously listening

for danger.

It finds its prize,

a discarded Yellowwood seed.

The mouse gnaws at the seed,

ruining any change

of it taking root.

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As life in the forest wakes,

the Crested Guineafowl stir in the treetops

all around the Yellowwood.

These peculiar birds roost in the forest canopy

where they are beyond the reach of danger.

It’s May,

Autumn mornings

are chilly up here amongst the leaves,

and the flock abandons its roost

to go forage beneath the Yellowwood.

The family is a social bunch,

constantly communicating

to stay in range of each other.

A male dominates this community,

a role he claimed

and maintains

by being the fittest cock

with the most endurance.

He keeps a blood-red eye

on his flock of thirty

from a perch.

When it comes to searching for food,

one has to admire their persistence.

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They spend most of the day

scrounging through leaf litter

to unearth seeds,

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digging for roots and bulbs,

and scratching and scraping

to uncover a juicy morsel

like a spider

or a millipede.

In Autumn

the flock has to work a little harder for their food.

The Yellowwood’s summer fruit

is a distant memory.

But the forest is full of hidden treasures;

you just need to know where to look.

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A piercing shriek

abruptly ends the peace and quiet

of the morning treasure hunt.

A male Hyrax,

also known as a Dassie,

is responsible for this shrill cry.

His territorial calls

defend the Yellowwood year-round,

but, fall being mating season,

they’re much more frequent now.

He’s guarding his den,

a collection of large boulders

in the shade of the Giant.

Hidden among them

is his harem;

He reins over a colony of 17 females

and their offspring.

A rival male

threatens him with quick posturing.

But it doesn’t take much

to intimidate this interloper…

he’s no match

for this seasoned champion.

With dorsal hairs standing on end,

a second challenger

confronts the ruler of this rock.

But he doesn’t have what it takes either.

Another standoff,

and this time

his opponent tries to intimidate him

by grinding

his molars.

That shook him up a bit.

Better for the dominant male

to stand down

than lose his den.

Don’t be deceived by its name.

The Rock Hyrax is a master tree climber,

and it often takes to the trees

to forage.

As the hyrax moves along the branches

it relies on the thick,

rubbery soles on its feet

to get a good grip.

The inner toe on each hind foot

serves as a long grooming claw.

The Dassie uses this,

along with four comb-like incisors,

to scratch almost any part of its body.

Although the Dassie may look like a rodent

its closest living relative

could not seem more different…

the African Elephant…

their close relationship

determined by the similar structure

of their feet and teeth.

This colony

has lived in the rocky crevices

close to the Yellowwood

for generations…

perhaps even witnessing

the first growth of its seed.

One den in South Africa

was found to have urine layers

dating back

55,000 years.

This ancient forest

can be a claustrophobic world.

Even the spans

between the trees are occupied.

All around the yellowwood,

veils of silk

drape between branches,

gleaming in the sunlight.

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A kite spider,

dangerously beautiful

with crab-like spines,

meticulously cleans its web.

But the Queen

cradles an even greater jewel

in her upper reaches.

Here, one of Africa’s most striking orb weavers,

the Darwin’s Bark spider,

has spun her web.

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With the toughest silk ever seen,

ten times stronger than Kevlar,

these spiders spin

some of the largest webs found in nature,

covering almost three-square meters.

The key to this extraordinary strength

is the silk’s elasticity,

twice as resilient

as other orb-spinners’ webs.

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Insects stand little chance

of escaping such a masterpiece.

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When a second victim

finds its way into her web,

she gently plucks the thread

to make sure there is something there.

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She injects digestive fluids into her prey’s body,

dissolving it from the inside.

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And bit-by-bit,

from head to toe,

she drains her quarry…

every last drop.

All this happens on a web

30 meters off the ground,

within the Giant’s embrace.

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With Winter around the corner,

the Giant is no longer the generous provider

she once was.

For now her branches hold neither cones

nor fruit.

The Samango monkeys

have to look for food elsewhere,

their movement confined

to a 46-hectare stretch of forest

around the Yellowwood.

Luckily, there’s plenty to choose from

in the jungle.

They shove sugar rich fruit

into their cheek pouches,

to consume at a later stage

in a less exposed part of the forest.

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Leaves also make it onto the menu…

but a female hits the jackpot,

a praying mantis…

a juicy delicacy.

Even better than the mantis

are caterpillars.

The hairy ones burn

and need to be handled with care.

She rubs the insect on a branch

to get rid of the stinging hairs…

maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

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Fruit digests in the monkey’s stomach,

while leaves ferment in a pocket

attached to its colon.

Related females

form the social core of the troop,

passing their knowledge of the best fruiting trees

onto their young.

For these monkeys

there’s little need to leave this small patch

of lush, green paradise,

and they will brutally defend their fruiting trees

against rival troops.

With the onset of Winter,

the Samangos will have to be even more vigilant

as food will become scant

in the months ahead.

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The Soutpansberg

lies at the meeting point of several biomes,

as thick indigenous forests

merge with grassland from the south

and dry Savanna

from the north.

In June

a hodgepodge of spicy, sweet fragrances

hangs thick in the cold Winter air

as blooming aloes and shrubs

transform the rocky grassland

just outside the forest.

Home to two thirds

of the country’s birds and mammals,

the area encompassing the Soutpansberg Mountains

holds more life

than anywhere else in South Africa.

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This is her domain;

she rules this kingdom.

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But the queen does not stand alone,

she has a king;

behind the giant

is another yellowwood…

her male counterpart.

Despite being much smaller than his female companion,

he is still a magnificent tree.

His branches

bear light green male cones.

These slender catkin-like cones

have been developing for the last 18 months,

but they still aren’t ready to release their pollen.

This morning

is bitterly cold inside the forest,

the temperature hovering

just below 5 degrees Celsius.

The boulders underneath the Yellowwood

bake in patches of shifting sunlight,

it’s the perfect spot

for a Dassie to bask in the heat.

And stretching out

on a high sunny branch

is never too much trouble.

Because of its low metabolism,

it’s difficult for a hyrax

to control its body temperature,

so lying in the sun

helps to thaw

cold stiff limbs.

On chilly mornings like these,

it increases its heartbeat

to 160 beats per minute

to warm up.

When the Hyrax gets too hot,

panting helps it cool down

through the evaporation of saliva.

It can breathe

up to 200 breaths per minute.

The Dassie has evolved

into a somewhat lazy creature,

it spends ninety-five percent of its day

sunbathing

or resting…

an eternity for a herbivore.

The Samango monkeys

also seek out the sun

to bask in its warmth…

it makes for lazy downtime.

Living in a forest,

one’s likely to collect a few ticks and fleas.

It’s a real nuisance

when all one wants to do

is bake in the sun.

Sometimes a monkey

just needs more hands.

Fortunately,

a troop-mate makes up for this shortcoming.

In the Samango troop,

everyone is regarded as a friend,

and grooming

reaffirms those friendships.

The alpha male enjoys more grooming attention

from his harem of females

than any other troop member,

a sign of their devotion.

Social grooming ensures peace within the troop

and aggression is rare.

It’s the good life;

the troop has nothing to worry about.

Little do these sunbathers realize

that two of their biggest enemies

have moved back

into the neighborhood.

A pair of Crowned Eagles

has been using this nest

for many years,

each year adding more material to it

resulting

in the monstrous structure

it is today.

But it’s not their only nest;

the queen cradles a second,

which the pair used last season

to raise a single chick.

This year they’ve chosen instead

to nest in a White Stinkwood tree

on the edge of the forest.

The raptors aren’t afraid

to make their presence known,

calling to each other at the nest,

and soon

both the monkeys and the dassies

are aware of the threat in the vicinity.

Crowned eagles

are the most powerful eagles in Africa,

killing animals

up to five times their own weight,

crushing skulls

and breaking spines with long talons.

Their wingspan stretches almost two meters across,

a formidable predator

for any small furry animal.

With spring around the corner,

they’ve laid one egg.

The female stays behind on the nest to incubate it,

while the male goes off

to hunt for her.

A Samango’s alarm call

scatters the monkeys and hyraxes,

all running for cover.

In the confusion,

someone is missing.

Back on the nest

the female waits anxiously for her partner to return.

Success!

She greedily pecks at his gift;

a young Hyrax.

Spring offers little relief

from the dry September heat.

The rain will only arrive

at the end of the season.

The Giant is susceptible to this drought;

it needs a good deal of water.

Instead of only shallow roots

penetrating the soil to capture rainwater,

it sends a taproot,

deep into the earth.

This longer taproot

has its own extensive root system

to seek out different sources of moisture.

Less than one kilometer away,

up on the plateau,

the mountain blesses the forest

with the bounty of run off from higher altitudes.

Like veins,

these small rivers

carry the thicket’s life-blood through the Yellowwood’s forest.

On and on it flows,

the current bringing life

to every rift and crevice.

In the blinding light

of the September afternoon

the stream

is like a semi-molten mirror.

It quenches the thirst

of many of the Soutpansberg’s plants and animals.

Where pools form,

Whirligig beetles swim on the water’s surface.

They scavenge for trapped or floating insects,

performing what appears to be

an elaborate aquatic ballet.

A common river frog

watches for prey on the bank.

With powerful hind legs

and a fair amount of webbing between the toes,

it’s perfectly adapted

to hunt

in this waterlogged environment.

Its distinct call,

a croak

and rattle,

announces its presence to rivals,

“this is my stalking ground”.

A damselfly also hunts along this stream.

It’s drawn by midges,

mayflies and mosquitos

that frequent these waters.

All this aerial master has to do

is pluck them from the air.

Another damselfly

uses his tail

to keep a firm grip on the female

he’s just mated with…

preventing other suitors

from removing his sperm

to insert their own.

Only when she’s laid her eggs

is his posterity ensured.

She deposits them underwater

in slits

she cuts in the stems of water plants.

Once done,

she must dry off

before she can continue on her journey.

The stream flows like time,

always onward.

The Giant

draws strength from the nutrient rich waters.

The wet, fertile soil

has made this Yellowwood

the awe-inspiring colossus it is today.

But the queen’s reign

is threatened.

A usurper is tightening its grip

around her throne.

An imposter…

slowly depriving her of nourishment.

For years this strangler fig

has been making its way up her trunk

with a network of aerial roots.

The fig puts out a lush canopy of leaves

that rob the Queen of her sunlight.

Each day it tightens its grip,

slowly squeezing the life

from its unwilling host.

It is a fatal embrace,

one that will eventually

topple the giant.

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Once again

change

comes over the Soutpansberg.

Clouds gather on the horizon.

A storm is brewing.

Electricity is in the air.

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The forest seems uneasy.

With the arrival of rain,

spring ends.

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The November downpour

restores the landscape

to its true splendor…

enveloping the Yellowwood

in a white haze.

The Samangos

despise wet days like this,

and they choose not to forage

too far from the Giant;

she’s their sanctuary.

Even though they’re drenched,

they carry on with their daily business.

The guineafowl don’t seem troubled by the rain.

A Forest Rain Frog,

endemic to this area,

stumbles onto their feeding ground.

Many a guineafowl have fought

over such a delicacy.

But they somehow

fail to notice the lumbering amphibian

and he makes a quick getaway.

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It’s rare for the hyraxes

to forage in the middle of the day

when temperatures are highest;

they’re making the best

of the gloomy weather.

They take to the trees

to relish the burst of fresh new foliage.

Dassies can eat almost any vegetation.

Even the forest’s most hardy morsels

are no match for the symbiotic bacteria

that fill their three chambered stomachs,

allowing them to break down

an impressive variety of plants.

Agile climbers,

these acrobats will balance on the thinnest branches

to get to the juiciest leaves…

Which leads to some

precarious situations.

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December is the wet season in the Soutpansberg.

It’s a sultry and humid place,

mist dancing between peaks and crags.

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These mountains

have one of the highest rainfalls

recorded in South Africa,

with an average

of almost 1900mm of rain per year.

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The forests in the valleys of the mountain

thrive on all this moisture in the air.

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On the Yellowwood’s branches

lichens and epiphytes soak up water from the fog.

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Although it’s not raining,

the mist produces an incessant drip

inside the forest.

Everything is soaked through.

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As the sun makes an appearance,

light sparkles through droplets

caught by the Yellowwood’s epiphytes.

Orchids…

Ferns...

and succulents,

like the lemon bean bush,

all grow amongst the giant’s leaves.

But most noticeable

between the Yellowwood’s branches

are Usneae,

also known as “Old Man’s Beard”.

This lichen doesn’t damage the tree,

but grows symbiotically with its host plant.

The beard-like growth

is actually two organisms living together,

an algae

and a fungus.

Sensitive to pollution,

the grey-green tassels

thrive on the clean air in the Soutpansberg.

Close to the Yellowwood,

a delicate rasping call

disrupts the calm of the forest.

It’s a female Paradise Flycatcher

and she’s very agitated.

Her mate looks on

from another branch.

Unlike her,

he has long, beautiful tail feathers.

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African Paradise Flycatchers

are usually noisy birds,

but today the couple seems particularly perturbed.

And here is why.

This is not a branch…

it’s an African Vine Snake.

Its ability to freeze,

imitating a twig,

makes it hard to spot…

but the flycatchers don’t miss a thing.

Their nest must be close by.

The tiny snake is extremely venomous

and is potentially fatal to humans.

No anti-venom exists.

A small bird like the flycatcher

stands no chance.

As the days grow even warmer,

summer begins to transform the Yellowwood.

In January,

the giant sprouts a flourish of new leaves.

The tender, light green shoots

stand out boldly against her usual dark foliage…

but this

is just the beginning.

On the male yellowwood,

two years since they first emerged,

the cones have turned brown

and have released their precious pollen.

All that is left

is a white, powdery residue

on the cones spiraling scales.

The pollen floats on the wind…

a fertile dust

that delicately drifts towards her,

the female Yellowwood.

It settles on the giant’s newly developed cones,

pollenating them.

These smooth, spherical cones

will take about a year to develop

into fleshy fruit,

each

holding a precious woody seed.

Perhaps one,

centuries from now,

will grow to the size of this Titan.

Seconds or minutes,

even hours

are inconsequential to the Queen.

For this ancient giant,

seasons come

and go in the blink of an eye.

Even before European explorers discovered Southern Africa,

this mighty Outeniqua Yellowwood

sheltered life

in the safety of her branches.

But she is a rare survivor.

Logging is decimating her species.

Fewer than 10 percent

of old, giant Yellowwoods remain.

And as her rarity rises,

so too does her price,

making her timber

an ever more sought after bounty.

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This Giant

is one of a handful of Yellowwood trees

more than 500 years old

still standing.

She’s now protected in South Africa,

but the future of her saplings

still hangs in the balance.