All language subtitles for B034AE2211071EF2DCCA66AEAEED8F60_eng

A superb bird of paradise
calls for a mate.

The pursuit of love is his life's work.

But looking good is only half the story.

To seal the deal,
he must charm her with his dance.

When it comes to courting a partner,

this superb bird of paradise
is not the only bird

with an extraordinary display.

But as we'll see,

in the world of dancing birds,

it's only the most charming that succeed.

This is new Guinea,

the world's largest jungle-covered island.

In these isolated mountains and valleys,

birds have evolved

some of the most bizarre
courtship displays on the planet.

Meet the king of saxony.

He has the longest head feathers
of any bird.

And they're vital for impressing a female.

But first, the king must advertise
for a queen.

He shares the canopy
with hundreds of birds,

But is the right one, here for him?

Mm. That could be her.

Time to head down to his display vine.

She's definitely up there...

But he needs her closer.

And when she is,

he can begin his routine.

She will judge him on everything.

How high he swings.

The length of his head feathers.

And how he shakes them.

The higher he scores,

the more likely she'll choose him.

It's decision time.

So, is he the king of the swings?

It seems not.

Oh, well,

back to the search.

Attracting the perfect partner

is a challenge
for all male birds of paradise.

So some increase their chances

by having a permanent address.

An old, wobbly tree stump.

The top is just three meters
off the forest floor.

It doesn't look much,

but it means everything

to this black sicklebill.

Or sb for short.

Every morning, sb comes here

in the hope of attracting a female.

And if he can't always be seen...

He can be heard.

Even in the dense understory,
his calls travel far.

And, when it comes to first impressions,

he has a neat trick up his sleeve.

For years, no one knew why

the black sicklebill
had these strange shoulder plumes.

But then,
who could have imagined... this?

With no shortage of food in these forests,

male birds of paradise
can focus on one thing...

Attracting a mate.

His shiny badge of feathers is a sign
that he's in tip-top condition.

He just needs a female to spot it.

But, with no sign of any interest,

sb gets on with his day.

The sicklebill

is not the only pole-dancing bird
in these forests.

The top of this 25-meter tree

has been fashioned
into the perfect display post,

by a twelve-wired bird of paradise.

Let's call him... tw.

From up here, tw's call

is loud enough to carry
to the other side of the valley.

Sadly, no one seems to be listening.

But if a female came by,

would she be impressed
with these moves?

Or that tail?

Twelve-wires
are the only birds in the world

with a tail like this,

and it's designed
for a very odd kind of courtship.

He just needs a female on his pole.

Sb's post has a visitor,

but it's a young male.

He's not having a bad feather day,

it's just his shoulder pads
haven't developed yet.

And his shiny badge of feathers...

Well, they wouldn't impress anyone.

But you're never too young
to try out your moves.

Pretty good,

even if he does look
like he's been dragged

through the forest backwards.

Tw's pole has a visitor, too,

but it's a metallic starling.

Keen to let others know
he's in the area.

The pole is also a great vantage point
for spying prey.

It seems that every bird in the forest

wants to sit on tw's post.

But if he's ever to attract a mate,

tw must drive off
the stream of trespassers.

Now, where are all those
female twelve-wires?

Surely there's one out there.

Scruffy is still at it.

And sb's not happy.

The kid's got guts

but he has to go.

Sb knows that no pole means no dates.

Back in charge,

it's guns out...

Hood up.

All he needs is a passing female.

Aha!

Could this be the one?

It is a female

but not a sicklebill.

Male birds of paradise
can go their entire lives

without ever winning a female.

But they're programmed to persevere.

An approaching storm is not good news.

Sb knows there's no point
dancing in the rain.

Female birds of paradise
never look for partners

in bad weather.

Or almost never.

Here's a female
that doesn't mind the rain.

Tw can't have gone far.

But females have little Patience.

Who knows when she'll be back.

Tw spends a lot of time
gardening and landscaping.

It's important work
if he wants his display pole

to stand out in the canopy.

He's already removed
all the leaves from here.

This lot could go, too.

But gardening must wait.

He has a date.

So, will a leafy gift help to woo her?

No.

For a male bird of paradise,

life can often be frustrating.

But she hasn't given up on him yet.

He just needs to charm her onto his pole.

Strangely,

female twelve-wires
like to be flicked across the face

by a male's tail.

And she'll judge him on this.

So, here goes.

Unfortunately, his technique...
Is a turn-off.

The pole dancers spend a lot of time
hoping they'll be noticed.

But sb's wait could be over.

That tweak is a good sign.

But she needs a much closer inspection.

The devil's in the detail.

He's passed the test.

Perseverance has paid off.

Using a tree stump as a display post
is one thing.

But for some dancing birds,

the females demand even more.

They expect their partners
to get creative.

This is a bower.

A stick bower.

It's built to attract a female bowerbird.

Though you could say it's the designer

that really catches the eye.

A flame bowerbird.

The world's most brightly colored bird.

He spent several days building his bower,

and now he's applying
the finishing touches.

But flame's
is not the only kind of bower here.

This bower is probably
the most ambitious construction

made by any single animal.

Here's the guy responsible.

Macgregor's bowerbird.

He may not have the sex appeal of flame,

but no other bird goes to greater heights
to impress the ladies.

Unlike flame,

macgregor spends most of the year

tinkering with his bower.

He works hard on making it bigger
and better.

So far,
it's been a seven-year labor of love.

Flame's bower,
on the other hand, is short-lived,

likely to last just a couple of weeks.

Even so, every stick has its place.

And detail is everything.

Happy with his bower,

flame moves his attention
to his backyard.

If he wants to impress a female,
it's important to get this right, too.

For both, creating the perfect
piece of art is time-consuming work.

And occasionally frustrating.

If only he had hands.

This isn't macgregor.

It's his neighbor and rival
from along the way.

With no one in,

he's come to cause trouble.

Bowerbirds can be very jealous.

But there's a point to this vandalism.

Sabotage your rival's bower...

And yours may look better
to a visiting female.

Mister flame is still having
his own personal battles,

but he must also watch his back.

When you're the brightest thing
in the jungle,

there's always a chance
you'll attract the wrong kind of bird.

A doria's hawk.

But he's lost the element of surprise.

Macgregor is back.

And he gets on with the repairs.

His tower is well over a meter tall.

It may be a cliche,
but size matters to female bowerbirds.

If a male can build and maintain
a large tower, it's a sign of good genes.

Next, macgregor turns his attention
to the decor.

Every bowerbird works in his own medium.

For macgregor, it's sticky plant sap.

Mm. Nice!

Flame is decorating, too,
but he's more...

Experimental.

Macgregor, however,
knows just what he wants.

And everything has its place.

Now, this has potential.

But should it go here?

Here?

Or perhaps here?

Or even here?

Perfect.

Fresh decorations show
that the bower is in use.

And the fancier it is,
the more likely it'll impress a female.

He's hung hundreds of baubles already.

But apparently, there's a point

when there's just one too many.

In keeping with his brown color scheme,

macgregor is hoping dead flowers
will be an added attraction.

Decor is often down to local fashion.

In this valley, blue is the thing.

So will these berries catch the eye?

There's another unwelcome guest
at macgregor's.

This could be bad.

But it's also an opportunity for macgregor
to practice an important skill.

Mimicry.

Pretty impressive.

And how about his squealing pig?

He can also do... the local dogs.

Pigs don't like dogs.

So, what will this pig think
about a bark with more bite?

There's more to this mimicry
than scaring pigs.

It's also key to courting a partner.

He's in luck.

A female has heard him
and drops in for a closer look.

Time for the blind audition.

He must now give her his full repertoire.

First up,
the songs of forest birds.

Moving on to other sounds he's picked up

from a nearby village.

Like chopping wood.

People talking.

And, most remarkably...

Children playing!

She's impressed.

And who wouldn't be?

A final dog bark...

And it's on to stage two.

A game of hide and seek.

To keep her keen, he can't be seen.

This teasing game can go on
for 20 minutes or more.

Flame is in luck, too.

A female flame has come to check him out.

She replies to his call, a good sign.

Now, how to coax her into his bower?

Will contracting and expanding his pupil
be the right lure?

She seems to like it.

One more step
and she'll be in his bower.

Oh. Too much eye work, perhaps.

Back at macgregor's,
it's time for the crazy thistle head.

She's seen enough...

But perhaps she'll be back later.

The game's not yet up for flame.

His date is back.

And he's trying something new.

He still needs to get her into his bower,

and a bit of blue beak bling

might be just the thing.

At last, she's right where he wants her.

Time for his signature dance:

The matador.

Oh, dear! The pressure's getting to him.

Take two.

Everything seems to be going
like clockwork.

His final move is odd.

But it's all part of the routine.

And this is his only contribution
to fatherhood.

Bowerbirds play the mating game alone.

But in the jungles of central
and South America,

there are some birds
whose only hope of finding love

is teamwork.

This is a guianan cock-of-the-rock.

Every morning, a posse of males
gathers in this patch of forest

in the hope of some female action.

They're not exactly friends
but they need one another to succeed.

So, chaos must give way to order.

This is a communal display ground,

or lek.

At the lek,

every male has his own dancing area.

And the more males there are,

the more likely females will visit.

Teamwork is even more important
for some performers in Panama.

This is the dancing perch

of a male Lance-tailed manakin.

But to attract a female,

one manakin just won't cut it.

So... he has a wingman.

The manakins here
are part of a 21-year study,

and this pair has worked together
for five years.

They're a well-oiled machine.

And the most successful duo
in this forest.

Rehearsal over,

the pair go in search of a mate.

They advertise their readiness
with a duet.

And their calls have been answered.

Now, they show her their stage
with a round of flybys.

So far, so good.

But will their routine hit the Mark?

If it does, only the Alpha will mate.

The wingman's only here

to make his boss look good.

But, before deciding,

female manakins always check out
the competition.

Oh, shame!

At the cock-of-the-rock lek,

the judges are taking their seats.

It's got the posse excited again.

Order restored, each takes his position.

And presents his best side.

They'll be judged on their rear ends.

It takes a trained eye
to spot the prettiest bottom.

But there's more to the contest
than that.

Wait for it...

Yeah, okay, it's not exactly swan lake,

but it's enough to make
the final choice easier.

But is this male as impressive...
Up close?

He must keep hopping
until he gets the okay.

Not everyone's best pleased about that.

But the competition isn't over yet.

There are still other females
to win over,

so they must keep hopping.

But when the next female chooses...

It's the same guy!

Research has shown that most matings

at a lek are with one male.

But only the females know

what he has that the others don't.

Still, until the last female's gone,
there's always hope.

The manakin a-team are hopeful, too.

The female's back.

And the duo picks up where they left off.

But the final act... is a solo.

So, when it's time to go it alone,

the Alpha calls at his wingman to leave.

Last year, this male
was the most successful in the study.

But he can't afford to relax.

Research has shown that older females,
like this one,

make experienced males work harder
for their affections.

So he must dazzle her
with each of his dance moves.

Now comes the highlight
of the whole performance.

Cue drumroll...

The perch bounces.

She likes them!

All that's left is to bow...

And mate.

The wingman can only look on.

Perhaps next year, he'll be on top.

Back in new Guinea,

there's one dancing bird
that has it all...

The perfect arena,

the most varied dance routine,

and he does it all by himself.

You could say...
He's the greatest showman.

This is his personal display court.

He's a bird of paradise,

a carola's parotia,

and his name's Bob.

Bob is obsessed with tidiness.

But it's vital housework.

Female carolas
don't visit messy display courts.

Every leaf must go.

Perfect.

But Bob's jobs are not done.

There's other groundwork to do.

His arena is carpeted with moss.

And there are a few areas to attend to.

Splendid!

Chores finished, Bob limbers up.

Carolas spend more time
rehearsing their displays

than any other bird of paradise.

The ballerina is just one
of nine carefully choreographed moves.

And each will have to be done
in exactly the right order,

making it the most complex dance
of any bird.

Even the pauses between moves
are important to the routine.

And it's not just what he does but where.

Dancing under his perch is crucial,

as it's from here
a female will view his performance.

But even the most serious dancer
can tire of practicing.

Particularly when no one's even watching.

So, it's off to lunch.

With Bob gone,

others slide in.

A juvenile male

and his equally juvenile male friend.

One day,
they'll both have their own courts

but until then, they must seize
every chance to practice.

With two, they can role-play.

A dancer...

And a judging female.

But time's up.

Bob's back.

This youngster wants to stick around

and learn from an expert.

But playtime is over.

And not a moment too soon.

A female carola.

But she's not looking for love.

She's after nest material.

Best get rid of her.

When you're a carola's parotia,

there's no such thing as downtime.

To succeed,
Bob knows his routine must be faultless.

So it's practice, practice, practice.

Aha! Another female!

This one seems interested in him,

so it's showtime.

Bob opens with a perch pivot,

the first of his nine moves.

With the female getting closer,
it's time for move two.

The court hops.

Then smartly onto move three,

the swaying bounce.

The mossy carpet helps keep Bob's feet
firmly on the ground.

But he needs her on his perch.

Yes!

But what's this?

A plus-one?

It's another adult male.

He could prove trouble
but Bob must press on.

A carola display could last hours.

And there are points for stamina.

The arrival of a second male
is more worrying.

Suddenly, Bob's surrounded by rivals,

here to break up his date.

If he loses focus now,
she may visit one of their courts instead.

And he's still got a lot to get through.

Next, move four.

The head tilts.

But all that noise
is just too distracting.

He must show them who's boss.

And this bit of leaf could be the answer.

It's a badge of ownership,
a carola's way of saying:

"This is my court. Get lost."

It's odd...

But it works.

But now, something's wrong.

Has she lost interest,

or is he trying to woo her
at the wrong end of the perch?

Fortunately,

Bob's remembered that female carolas

like to look down
on their would-be partners.

So it's back to business,
and the second round of court hops.

Move five.

Now on to the next move:

The hop and shake.

Number six,

where he'll fluff his feathers,
shuffle forward,

and stick his head under his wing.

Fluff, shuffle, wing.

Fluff...

Shuffle...

Wing.

Still looking good above.

So it's time for moves seven,
eight and nine.

The bow, ballerina and head Bobs,

the moves that Mark him out
as surely the finest dancer of them all.

Take it away, Bob!

♪ I was dancing when I was twelve ♪

♪ I was dancing when I was twelve ♪

♪ I was dancing when I was out ♪

♪ I was dancing when I was out ♪

♪ I danced myself out of the womb ♪

♪ I danced myself out of the womb ♪

Some male carolas never win
the female...

♪ Is it strange to dance that soon? ♪

But Bob's chances are looking good.

♪ I danced myself out of the womb ♪

♪ ohh ♪

♪ ohh-oh-ohh ♪

♪ I was dancing when I was eight ♪

♪ I was dancing when I was eight ♪

Even the pauses are holding her interest.

♪ Is it strange to dance so late? ♪

♪ Is it strange to dance so late? ♪

♪ Ohh ♪

♪ ohh-oh-ohh♪

Fluttering wings
are her way of saying:

"Nice job, Bob."

It's the sign he's been hoping for.

Hurrah!

But despite Bob's virtuoso performance...

She may never want to see him again.

Oh, well.