All language subtitles for BBC.Madagascar.2011.3.BDRip.by.Rotten

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

DAVID ATTENBOROUGH:
A monsoon storm

on the coast of an island
in the Indian Ocean.

But this is not
a normal tropical island.

This is Madagascar.

Once joined to Africa,

Madagascar has been isolated
for millions of years

and it has evolved a set of wildlife
all its own.

More than 80% of it
is found nowhere else on Earth.

This strange island

is split in two by a line of mountains
running its length.

The eastern slopes are drenched
with rain and cloaked in jungle.

But cross these mountains
into the western side

and you're in another world.

To live here,
you need to cope with a landscape

that is bone-dry for most of the year.

A land where rain is fleeting
and quite unpredictable.

And yet, Madagascar's arid lands
are full of life.

Everything that lives here

has its own fight
for survival and resources,

as the seasons swing by.

In this eccentric land,

some of the strategies
wildlife has developed

are quite extraordinary.

Madagascar is a vast island.

A thousand miles from north to south,

it's so big it has the variations
in climate of a continent.

The mountainous spine down its length
is a barrier to rain.

The land to the west is in a rain shadow

and the further south you go,
the drier it gets.

This is a journey through Madagascar's
most challenging season,

the great drought

that grips the south and west
of the island

for more than nine months of every year.

To survive these months
you need to be tough and ingenious

and Madagascar's wildlife
is certainly both.

Rising up from the southern flatlands

is a strange
Grand Canyon-like landscape,

a great plateau of sandstone

beaten down
by millions of years of erosion.

It's August.

Deep in land, far from the sea,
it's searingly hot

and it hasn't rained for months.

But it's not entirely dry here.

In deep, dark canyons
there are slashes of green.

These lush forests are leafy all year
thanks to a constant source of water.

The very depth of the canyon
shades it from the sun

and keeps it permanently moist.

It's a rare oasis
in an otherwise parched land

and it's a great attraction
for wildlife.

A dragonfly patrols a patch of stream.

He's jealously guarding
his precious territory,

pushing out male rivals
while he waits for the females to visit.

And in this fortunate place,
lives a small family of lemurs,

Verreaux's sifakas.

They spent the chilly night
in high, rocky caverns

safe from predators.

At dawn, they move down into the canyon,

stopping to warm up
in the first rays of the sun.

And there's another
member of the family.

A daughter, just a couple of weeks old.

She has been able to
grip her mother's fur unaided

since she was born, and just as well.

Because her mother crosses the canyon
with vast leaps

as much as nine metres
in a single bound.

There's no shortage of food here
for these vegetarian lemurs.

But, for now,
the baby is totally reliant on milk.

It will be another six months
before she's completely independent.

Like all lemurs, sifakas are primates,

and their social bonds are strong.

She will stay with her family
in this vast canyon

for the rest of her life.

These lush canyons
are a rare, leafy oasis.

The further south you go,
the drier it gets.

There are rivers here in the deep south
but they are highly seasonal.

As the dry season takes hold,

they run flat and broad,
ankle-deep streams on a bed of sand.

But the rivers carry
just enough water and nutrients

for ribbons of forest to grow.

And the masters of these river forests
are these,

ring-tailed lemurs.

In gangs of 15 strong,
they have the run of the place.

And it's the females who are in charge.

With the burden of raising young,
they must have access to the best food.

These lemurs
are protective of their patch.

Scent marking makes it clear
to other gangs where the border lies.

As a group, they need to keep hold
of their home territory.

(LEMURS SCREECHING)

Intruders are seen off promptly.

(SCREECHING CONTINUES)

Green as this river forest looks,

at this time of year there's only
just enough food to go round

and these females
all have babies to feed.

They all gave birth
at around the same time.

By the time the rains return,
the forest will be full of fruit

and that's just when the babies will be
old enough to feed for themselves.

It's a crucial adaptation to suit
a place so driven by seasonal change.

Motherhood is taking its toll.

They're thin
and their fur is less than sleek.

But the dry season will eventually pass

and at least
their forest is green all year.

Further to the west is a swathe of
forest that is much more demanding.

It swings dramatically
between wetness and desiccation.

For most of the year,
it's cracklingly dry.

The most distinctive trees of these
western dry forests are the baobabs.

Their trunks are huge and bulbous,
the better to store water.

They live for hundreds of years.

A tree like this will have seen
many dry seasons pass.

It's now October,
the height of the dry season,

and it will be months
before any significant rain falls.

For everything that lives here
it's a test of endurance.

Water is in short supply,

just a few little, temporary pools
dotted between the trees.

Everything must come here to drink.

And that's risky.

Their predators
will know where they are.

Brown lemurs creep timidly
around the waterhole.

With very little fresh greenery to eat,
they must drink every day

or risk death from dehydration.

But every step
on the carpet of dry leaves

could reveal their presence.

At this time of year
they have babies, too.

They're an easy target.

(GRUNTING)

(SQUEALING)

(SQUAWKING)

But this hawk is only after water,

a drink and a bathe.

(TRILLING)

In such tough times,

there are battles for territory
in the most unexpected places.

As night falls in the baobab forest,

an extraordinary crowd emerges.

They are baby flatid bugs.

By day, they are barely visible,

but, at night, they swarm over the
trees and start to feed.

They drink sap and each settles itself
into a spot on the branch.

But even at this miniature level,
there's a battle for resources,

and here and there, fistfights breakout.

This curious spat
has never been observed before.

For the most part, however,
they feed quietly,

and as they feed they excrete
unwanted liquid called honeydew.

It coats the branches
and remaining leaves.

And this is very attractive
to other insects

that are out and about at night.

And that, in turn,
provides a feast for mouse lemurs.

At around 60 grams,

mouse lemurs are
the world's smallest primates.

These are all males.

The females are fast asleep in
tree holes and have been for months.

They can sleep right through
the dry season

and they'll only emerge
when the rains come.

It's a way of saving energy.

So, for now, the males are on their own,

feeding on anything that will
take them through the lean times

and waiting for the day
that the females awake.

But of all Madagascar's
southern habitats,

none seems more challenging than this.

This is the far south of the island
where there's little standing water.

Rain is rare
and some years doesn't fall at all.

The sandy, porous rock drains quickly.

The forest that grows here
is one of the strangest on Earth.

It's called the spiny forest
for good reason.

There's nothing like it
anywhere else in the world.

The plants are viciously spiny.

The spines collecting
what little water there is in the air

and draining it back to the tree itself.

These plants are seriously odd.

With twisted, sprawling branches,
these are octopus trees.

And euphorbias,
looking like strings of sausages.

They barely even bother with leaves.

They photosynthesise
through the green of their stems.

These are among the world's
toughest plants.

It would seem
there is nothing edible here.

What leaves there are, are small,
the better to avoid water loss,

and tucked down among the spines.

This place looks totally hostile.

But here, too,
live ghostly little lemurs.

Verreaux's sifakas are among
the hardiest of all the lemurs.

And they are quite at home here, too.

They are perfectly adapted
to this desiccated place

because they can go
without drinking at all.

They get all the moisture they need
from these unappetizing looking leaves

which they pick from between the spines.

They even relish the euphorbia fruit,

apparently not bothered
by the fact that these trees

are dripping with chemicals so strong
they'd burn your skin.

And they, too, have babies,

born at what looks like
the very worst time of the year.

Life here seems generally
much more challenging.

Not only is there little to eat,

these sifakas have to cope
with jumping between thorns

that would go through your fingers.

It's hardly surprising that only half of
sifaka babies make it to adulthood.

Within just a few months, these babies
will have to take the plunge

and learn how to jump all by themselves.

For now, they cling to their mother
and discover what's edible.

Back in the central canyon lands,
the weeks pass.

It's November
and there is still no rain.

There hasn't been for eight months.

The grassy plains are dry

but inside the canyon,
thanks to the constantly flowing spring,

it's still almost ludicrously luxuriant
and full of life.

Ring-tails, the most adaptable
of all lemurs,

have found a home here, too.

They are the most widespread of lemurs

and they live all over
the south of the island.

And here they seem to
have found a life of ease.

They are able to take advantage of
a range of food as it becomes available.

They'll eat leaves, flowers
and even insects.

In an unpredictable place
like Madagascar,

that has helped them to thrive.

The babies are growing up.

Born at roughly the same time,

every ring-tailed baby in the south
is now about two months old.

And this young male

is starting to find his way around
this bountiful place.

But it will be a while before
he's totally competent as a climber.

(LEMUR SQUEAKING)

He won't even be fully weaned
for another three months.

(CONTINUES SQUEAKING)

Although there's moisture
in the leaves they eat,

the ring-tails can't go more than a day
without drinking.

But finding water is not difficult here.

The stream never runs dry.

Outside the canyon, however,
the grass is tinder dry.

Fire has been a factor here
for millions of years.

The grass burns rapidly
and the fire spreads quickly.

These spots of flame and smoke
flush insects from the grass,

so they are a huge attraction
for kites and kestrels.

(INSECTS CHIRPING)

Back in the baobab forest
in the far west,

it seems as parched as ever.

But now, in late November, there are
signs that things are about to change.

The baobab's scrappy branches

suddenly begin to put out
a first flush of green leaves.

They're drawing on the precious water
they've stored in their fat trunks.

There will soon be rain here

and the baobabs sense that it's coming.

There's a scent of rain in the air.

Other life is beginning to stir.

This little chameleon
has not long hatched

but already it's in a race

and it has one of
the strangest strategies of all

for dealing with the extreme dryness.

They are Labord's chameleons

and they only live
in this part of the island.

This little male
already has a voracious appetite.

Although this spider may be beyond him.

These strange little chameleons

have the shortest lifecycle
of any land vertebrate in the world.

They spent the last nine months
underground inside an egg

and now they have just eight weeks
to grow to adult size.

They will have to grow
more than a centimetre a week.

There is no time to waste.

Conditions are so tough
that living fast is the best strategy.

By the time the rains begin,
his life will be almost over.

In fact, the rains have already started.

Only a splash,
but a sign of a deluge to come.

For now,
it's barely enough to wet the ground

but it's enough to bring the
mouse lemur females out of hibernation.

And the males
are getting themselves ready for them.

They only have one chance to mate
during the entire year.

Tonight's the night
and they can hardly wait.

(BOTH SQUEAKING)

It's understandably competitive.

These two males are fighting
outside a female's tree.

One of the males
tries his luck with her.

(SQUEAKING RAPIDLY)

A swift left hook
seems to make her feelings clear.

But he persists.

(SQUEAKING)

And she finally allows him in.

The first splash of rain

seems to trigger a race for everything
in the baobab forest.

In this opportunistic place,
you have to move fast.

The rain is a cue for another event

that only happens on one night
in the year.

(FROGS CROAKING)

The forest floor is alive
with little brown frogs.

They've been living quietly
in the forest all year.

But when dawn breaks at the waterhole
after one rainy night,

an astonishing transformation
has happened.

While the females have stayed brown,
all the males have turned bright yellow.

The reason is not certain,

but it might be so that the males
and females can tell each other apart

in the mass mating frenzy that follows.

(FROGS CROAKING)

They are taking advantage of the fact
that the waterhole has filled

just enough to lay their eggs.

But the rain is not yet strong enough
to wash the eggs away.

It's a very narrow window
of opportunity.

And, after just a few hours,
the males will all turn brown again

and they'll all return to the forest.

They won't be back
to this waterhole again

until this time next year.

Although a drizzle of rain has prompted
the baobab forest to start to green,

the lean times are not over.

Everywhere in the forest,

animals are finding
their own particular ways to survive.

Life is so challenging here
that one bird has resorted

to an extraordinary subterfuge
to see her through.

She is a vasa parrot,
another Madagascar speciality.

Inside her nest hole,
this odd-looking parrot

is raising a clutch of chicks.

But she's highly promiscuous

and the chicks may have
a number of different fathers.

And she uses this fact to her advantage.

Choosing a high perch,

she belts out her song
across the baobab forest.

(PARROT SCREECHING)

She looks somewhat scruffy.

Being the breeding season,

her normally glossy,
black head feathers fall out

and her head turns orange.

But she can certainly draw in the males.

(PARROT SCREECHING)

None of the males know
who is the father of her chicks.

But as she's mated with them all,

they all bring her food
in answer to her call.

The feeding sessions are interspersed
with gentle, little head sways

that seem to confirm their relationship.

Each male feeds her,
each perhaps believing

that he's the father of her offspring.

Finally she returns to feed her chicks,

having gathered food
with very little effort on her own part,

an elegant solution to difficult times.

By December in
the southern river forest,

the river is at its lowest ebb.

Oddly, it appears to be raining here,

but it's not raining at all.

(SQUIRTING)

The trees are full
of large insects, cicadas,

recently hatched and feeding on sap.

As they feed, they squirt out honeydew.

And for the river forest ring-tails,

always on the lookout
for something new to eat,

there's a feast to be had.

(SQUIRTING)

But there's a problem.

The cicadas are quite hard to catch.

Cicadas are a valuable source
of protein.

But it's a lot of effort.

And there's a much easier way
to get hold of them.

A giant wasp the size of a small bird.

She is a specialist in catching cicadas.

She stings one to paralyse it
and drags it to her underground cache.

So all the ring-tail has to do
is to watch where the wasp leaves one.

The river forest ring-tails are nothing
if not opportunistic.

It's an adaptability that sees them
through the worst

of the southern dry season.

Eventually, these rivers will fill.

The brief, wet season is on its way.

It's February,
the hottest time of the year,

and there's a change coming.

It's the monsoon season in Madagascar

and heavy rainstorms
move down the island from the north.

Thunder clouds begin to bubble up.

At last, after 10 months of dryness,

a deluge hits the baobab forest
of the west.

(THUNDERCLOUDS RUMBLING)

Trees that looked lifeless
are now revived and green.

And there has been
another transformation.

The little Labord's chameleons
have grown enormously.

This male is now five times bigger
and in full breeding colours.

And this female has become
a real beauty.

The male touches the branch
with his tongue.

He can taste that she's been that way.

But before he can get to her,
he has to fight off a rival male.

They're all racing against time.

(HISSING)

Their lives are so brief
that they only have one chance to mate.

He approaches her
but she seems less than keen.

(HISSING)

It may be that she's already mated
and is already pregnant.

He might be too late.

She couldn't afford to waste time.

As soon as she's laid her eggs,
she'll die

and all the males will be dead
soon after.

Their lives are only lived in the brief,
wet season.

The violence of their short lives
hastens their end.

Living fast and dying young,

it's a radical strategy for a place

where resources are low
for most of the year.

This is the richest time of year
in the baobab forest.

In the trees above as night falls,
the baobabs bloom,

peculiar giant, scented flowers
that open in minutes.

For the adaptable mouse lemurs,
the flowers are irresistible.

(FLUTTERING)

The nectar is a treat.

But it also brings in moths,
a double feast.

The good times are back.

This is the most dramatic change
in all Madagascar's landscapes.

But the rainy season will last
only a few more weeks

and desiccation will soon return
to these baobab forests.

But in the far south,

the river forest has stayed green
all year.

The river has been its lifeblood
in an arid landscape.

Fed by fleeting rainfall,
it has briefly filled,

and the forest is at its richest.

The ring-tails are well fed
and in peak condition.

It's now April and the babies
have become independent.

One or two may still try to hang on

but the breeding season
has just started again.

It will only last for just a week or two

and each individual female
will be fertile for just a few hours.

That means that things
are going to get intense.

Border disputes among groups are common.

They're usually settled
by a totally unique way of fighting,

with smell.

The males rub the glands of their wrists
on their tails

and waft them at rivals.

And that's usually enough
to send them off.

But at this time of the year,
things get more competitive.

(LEMURS BARKING)

The males also wave their perfume
at females,

hoping to persuade them to mate.

The most powerful males will usually be
the ones to mate with the females.

But she is totally in charge

and has no hesitation in seeing him off
if she's not ready.

If she approves of him,

she retreats little by little
into the bushes,

out of the way of other male attention.

By the shifty look of these two,

this female is mating
with a male of lesser rank.

The mating season is so short
it becomes a bit of a free-for-all.

The cycle is complete.

Further south, by April,

the fleeting rain has finally come
to the spiny forest.

The difference is striking.

This strange,
tangled forest has turned green.

But it's still as spiny.

The sifaka infants have survived
their first dry season.

The little scraps of white fur
are seven months old.

And now there is plenty to eat.

But even now the season is turning.

The greenery won't last long,

and the females are already
pregnant again.

In four months, new babies will be born.

The youngsters are now independent

and must move around the forest
by themselves,

which they do among the vicious spines
with wild abandon

and without any apparent difficulties
at all.

How they can do this without injuring
themselves remains a mystery.

But then, much of Madagascar's wildlife
is still not fully understood.

Lemurs leaping through
a forest of spines.

Nowhere else outside this one patch
in the south of the island

can such a thing be seen.

But then most of Madagascar's wildlife
exists nowhere else in the world.

The entire island is
a hotspot of biological diversity.

A treasure house of natural riches

that is one of the most significant
on Earth.

Each species has adapted in its own way

to the extremes of climate
and landscape.

But many of them are under threat

from loss of habitat,
from climate change, from hunting.

They are the same perils that face
so much of the world's wildlife.

But here, they are especially poignant.

Madagascar is
an unrepeatable experiment.

A set of unique animals and plants
evolving in isolation

for over 60 million years.

We're still trying
to unravel its mysteries.

How tragic it would be

if we lost it
before we even understood it.

Of all the strange

and secretive creatures
there are in Madagascar,

there is one that was
the biggest challenge of all to film.

It lives in the most remote forests.

It's nocturnal and it's very rare.

KEVIN FLAY: There's something there.

ATTENBOROUGH: It's also dangerous.

(CACKLING)

(WAILING)

It's the fossa.

The team travelled
to the dry western forest

which is the fossa's stronghold.

Even the people living
right at the edge of the forest

won't venture in at night.

(SPEAKING LOCAL LANGUAGE)

The fossa is Madagascar's
most fearsome predator.

Even the team's guide Jean
isn't too keen.

I'm scared of fossa
even though I'm guide here,

since the fossa is very strong
and it may attack people.

ATTENBOROUGH: But the team
were not to be put off.

They were joined by scientist,
Mia-Lana Luehrs.

She has been studying the fossa
for three years,

but even she doesn't know a great deal.

They usually have a secretive life
and it's difficult to observe them,

especially because they are
mostly solitary.

They are always very often together...

ATTENBOROUGH: But Mia has a plan.

She explains to director Emma Napper

that she's already fitted
some of the fossa with radio collars.

Although they can't pinpoint
an individual fossa,

in the mating season, the collars
can reveal where they're gathering,

around big trees
where males court females.

Jean goes in search
of a likely courtship tree.

To look for the tree
where the fossa mate

in this place it's...

It's hard but we work together.

Using Mia's data,
the team head for a likely spot.

Jean finds signs that fossa may
have been using this tree for courting.

So now the team must go
into the forest at night.

They carefully light the courting tree
with infrared lights,

visible to a camera
but invisible to the naked eye.

It means the team are working
in the pitch dark.

At night, the forest comes alive.

For hours, the team listen and wait.

Cameraman Kevin Flay
heads deeper into the forest.

FLAY: The thing is
it's really, really black.

So you're just relying on your hearing
all the time.

It's pretty unnerving 'cause you
just don't know where they are.

Just occasionally you might hear
a twig break or some rustling leaves.

NAPPER: These people
who live in villages,

they don't have torchlight and they...

They just hear this thing coming
into their village, it must be...

You know, it must be pretty frightening.

FLAY: I can definitely hear
something moving out there.

ATTENBOROUGH:
Then Mia hears a distant call.

(FOSSA WAILING)

And then suddenly the lights go out.

Next morning, the team find the cause.

The lighting cable
has big teeth marks in it.

We found that the wire was broken,

that was eaten by the fossa,
it was amazing.

ATTENBOROUGH: And that's not all.

The fossa tried to steal something
from this bag.

See, the fossa, you know.
The fossa is really clever.

And see, it eat anything.
Even... Even your shoes.

In the dry season with little to eat,

it seems that fossa
will have a go at anything.

The following night,
it's back into the forest.

For several hours, there's nothing.

But then,
those eerie sounds begin again.

And, suddenly, out of the darkness...

(FOSSA CHATTERING)

(FOSSA WAILING)

At last, the team get
their first good look

at these extraordinary animals.

Through the camera, they're transformed.

Elegant, relaxed, and totally at home
in the pitch black forest.

These are two males,
and they seem in no hurry to leave.

And then Jean finds the reason why.

Up in the tree, there's a female.

One of the males climbs the tree
to try his luck with her.

Eventually, they start to mate.

And they continue their liaison
until dawn.

It's a rare chance for Kevin
to capture shots of the fossa by day.

Other males start to gather
around the mating tree.

It's an astonishing sight.

Thanks to the night filming,

Mia has learnt a little more
about their behaviour.

But she's concerned.

Her data shows that this huge forest
may only have 10 females left in it

and that's not nearly enough.

This beautiful and enigmatic creature
may be critically endangered

and yet we still know
so little about it.

As with so much
of Madagascar's wildlife,

the challenge will be to discover more
before it's too late.