All language subtitles for E53E018DA7036762AC9231679409BA16_eng

Our planet may be home to 30 million
different kinds of animals and plants,

each individual locked in its own lifelong
fight for survival.

Everywhere you look, on land or in the
ocean, there are extraordinary examples of

the lengths living things go to to stay
alive.

This is the coast of Florida.

Here, strained scars on the seabed hint at
one animal's remarkable strategy.

These are bottlenose dolphins, one
of the most intelligent animals on Earth.

Their prey is very elusive.

Fast-swimming fish.

But the dolphins have invented a
completely new way of hunting.

By beating its tail down
hard, this dolphin stirs

up the shallow sea in
the middle of the silt.

And by swimming in a
tight circle, it creates a

ring of mushrooming
mud around a shoal of fish.

The contracting ring traps the fish just
like a net.

Panicked, the fish jump to escape.

Right into the open mouths of the waiting
dolphins.

Again and again, the
lead dolphin creates a circle

before they all line
up with perfect timing.

These dolphins are the only ones known to
have developed this hunting behavior,

and it gives them an edge.

This sort of advantage
may mean the difference

between life and death
in the survival of the fittest.

This series reveals the most
spectacular and extraordinary

strategies that animals and
plants have developed to stay alive.

For every creature, every day is full of
challenges.

All of which must be overcome somehow in
order to survive.

Kenya, famous for its big cats,
the supreme hunters.

Cheetahs specialize in hunting at speed.

They are made by a small breed.

Though fast, they are fragile creatures
built to sprint after small prey.

They don't have the strength or weight of
a lion to bring down larger animals.

This male is different.

He doesn't hunt alone.

He's learned that there is strength in
numbers.

But here there are not just two but three
cheetahs.

A band of brothers.

They have changed
their tactics, and by

doing so, have taken
their prey by surprise.

They have learned that working together,
they can bring down large prey.

An ostrich.

A bird that towers over a cheetah and is
more than twice as heavy.

It can't fly to escape danger,
but it can lash out.

With a deadly kick.

A female, unaware as yet of any danger.

Even with three of them, this is still
highly risky.

If one gets injured, the other two
couldn't hope to tackle such large prey.

On the other hand, if they get it right,
the rewards are huge.

The male has spotted one of the brothers,
but only one.

It's not too worried.

Then suddenly, there are three.

The

female is slower to realize the danger,
and the cheetahs switch tides.

It takes the combined
effort and weight of all

three brothers to bring
down this powerful bird.

Even now, the ostrich could land a fatal
kick.

So far, the brothers are winning.

Ostriches have yet to find a way to foil
such tactics.

Other animals have also evolved surprising
tactics to outmaneuver the enemy.

Not with brute strength, but with
extraordinary weapons.

Madagascar.

A strange world where nothing is quite as
it seems.

To hunt here requires stealth and
subterfuge.

And living within the trees is a master of
ambush.

A praying mantis.

Well camouflaged and lightning quick, these
insects are highly efficient predators.

But even they are outgunned.

A chameleon.

Its camouflage is
exceptional because it can

change its skin color to
match its surroundings.

Its eyes move independently to spot prey.

It creeps towards its victim until just in
range.

Then it unleashes a super weapon.

Its tongue shoots out at 15 meters per
second.

And not only hits, but grasps its target.

But few hunters are always successful.

For them, a hunt is just one meal.

For prey, the stakes are higher.

It's life or death.

As Antarctica moves from
spring into summer, the

inlets and bays once
choked with ice become free.

And animals move in to feed.

These are crab-eater seals.

They don't actually eat crabs,
but krill.

Small shrimps that swarm in their billions
in these waters.

Resting on a large ice floe, these
crab-eaters are safe.

But as soon as they enter the water,
they are on their guard.

For good reason.

Here in Antarctica, many killer whales
prey only on fish.

But these whales are different.

They specialize in hunting seals.

This seal, swimming through open water,
is unaware of the danger heading his way.

He's in real trouble.

There is no escape, unless he can hide
behind this small piece of floating ice.

But

he's been spotted and surrounded.

A chance

to try and escape.

Agility is his only chance.

He dodges for his life.

Staying as close as he can to the iceberg.

He's tired.

And the whales tighten the circle,
going for the kill.

But

hunters don't always get their own way.

In the end, the seal's determination and
skill, using the ice for protection,

kept him just out of reach.

And the whales move on.

Recently, it's been
observed that killer whales are

much more successful when
hunting other types of seals.

Crab-eaters like this put up too much of a
fight.

For creatures living in the open ocean,
there is nowhere to hide from predators.

But there is safety in numbers.

One fish, however, has evolved a different
escape tactic.

To leave the water completely,
take to the air, and fly.

After a huge effort to get
airborne, flying fish can glide

200 metres or so to escape
the predators chasing them.

Not all animals are hunters.

Many are vegetarians.

But the battle between animals and plants
can also be intense.

Boa Vista.

Central Brazil.

This valley is peppered with strangely
pitted rocks.

These are not natural
formations, but the legacy of

a long struggle between
one animal and one plant.

Brown tufted capuchins.

Highly intelligent monkeys.

They spend their nights in the safety of
caves.

Emerging each morning to find food.

Down in the valley is a particular
favourite.

A nut palm.

The palms produce huge seeds.

But they have very
strong shells that protect

them against attack
from hungry animals.

For the capuchins, this is a war of
attrition.

They check which seed is the ripest,
and the battle commences.

The first job is to tear the tough,
fibrous husk from the nut.

He doesn't try to crack the nut straight
away, but drops it to the ground.

He's learnt that a nut should be given a
week or so drying in the sun.

These are ones he prepared earlier.

He taps them to see if they're ready.

This huge, flat rock is his anvil.

And this is a hammer.

It's made of a different and much harder
rock than the anvil.

Now something extraordinary happens.

The

chintz use of these stone tools requires
an exceptional level of intelligence,

planning and dexterity.

The

nut finally cracks and exposes a rich,
oily kernel.

Youngsters watch and imitate the adults
just as human toddlers do.

If they are to become independent,
they must learn to crack their own nuts.

But the learning process is long,
with many frustrations.

They learn early on that to do a job
properly, you need the right tool.

It could take eight years
for a capuchin to master

this art and overcome the
palm's formidable defenses.

But some plants have turned the tables.

They can eat animals and feed on animals.

This is a highly sophisticated trap.

The bait?

Sugary nectar around the rim of the disk.

The triggers?

Fine hairs.

Two of which have to be touched within 20
seconds of each other.

The victim?

A fly.

Which finds the color and nectar
irresistible.

Two.

When triggered, the trap snaps shut so
fast that the fly is imprisoned.

The Venus flytrap now slowly digests its
victim.

Life's challenges are more than just
finding food.

In every animal's life, there comes a time
when its mind turns to breeding.

One creature's approach is mind-boggling.

Malaysia.

This strange insect has been lying dormant
on the forest floor.

Once safe in the trees,
these males hide among the

leaves and begin an
extraordinary transformation.

One that will make the difference between
fathering offspring or not.

He begins by gulping in air bubbles,
forcing them up into his head.

He then pumps the
bubbles into the stalks

supporting his eyes, just
like blowing up a balloon.

And this is what earns these creatures
their name.

The stalk-eyed fly.

A few final adjustments
to straighten out any

remaining creases,
and he's ready for action.

They may look unwieldy, but eyes on stalks
improve not only his ability to spot

predators, but they are key when it comes
to winning females.

In the evening, both males
and females gather, and the

males begin to size one
another up, eyeball to eyeball.

Having the widest eye span puts you at the
top of the pecking order.

The eye stalks are not
weapons, they're measuring sticks,

used to gauge how big
and so how strong a male is.

But there's trouble if two top males have
exactly the same eye width.

Then the contest descends into a brawl.

Defeated.

The winner.

He now has the right to mate with all the
females nearby.

The rather gentlemanly
way stalk-eyed flies settle

their differences over
females is not the only way.

Some animals are much more violent.

It's the dry season in Zambia.

The lagoons are either baked dry,
or the mud is so thick animals get stuck,

with fatal consequences.

This male hippo has been living in one
small lagoon, but as it dries,

it's turning into a death trap.

Understandably, the females that once
shared it with him have all left.

Even if he wants to, he can't stay much
longer.

He needs water to keep cool, and females
to mate with.

And this is where they all are.

Almost all the hippos in the area are now
in what is left of the Luangwa River,

because it's the last place where there's
still deep water.

This bend is controlled by an all-powerful
male.

Since the drought, many more females have
joined his herd.

They are happy to live cheek
by jowl, but any male who comes

here in the hope of mating
must first defeat the overlord.

A

Wandering male arrives and has a decision
to make.

Submit or fight.

Victory for the overlord.

His domination of his
channel in the river remains,

and with it, mating
rights with the females.

The loser is alive, but is an outcast.

He retreats to another
part of the river, where

it's so shallow that
no females will follow.

His chance to father offspring is over for
now.

For some animals, the challenges of
breeding are not about fighting,

but about courtship.

Among birds, displays,
songs and rituals can reach

extraordinary levels of
complexity and beauty.

During spring on the
freshwater lakes of Oregon,

grebes join together to
renew their partnership.

The ceremony starts with
a series of graceful duets

in which one partner echoes
the actions of the other.

But the real test comes now.

Only the strongest and the
most faithful are prepared

to join together for
the final exultant dance.

Those animals which have
young now face a whole new set

of challenges to protect
and nurture their offspring.

The water is so clear.

In the cold waters of the Northern Pacific
Ocean, there lives a giant.

A giant Pacific octopus at over four
metres long.

She is hunting, not for prey, but for a
den, somewhere to settle down and hide.

Her den has to be just right.

She's going to live here for the rest of
her life.

She's carrying fertilised eggs.

And now, happy and settled, she lays them.

One hundred thousand of them.

Over the next six months, she carefully
tends her precious brood.

She caresses them with
her arms to keep them

free of algae and properly
supplied with oxygen.

This is her first and only brood.

And so she takes great care of them.

While she's guarding her eggs,
she doesn't leave the den.

Not once.

Unable to feed, she's starving.

Her last act of devotion is to blow water
over the eggs to help them hatch.

Young, fully developed octopus pop out.

Though only a few will
survive to adulthood,

she's given them the
best chance she can.

After her long and lonely vigil,
she is dead.

Surely this sacrifice must make her one of
nature's most devoted mothers.

Here, 30 metres beneath the Costa Rican
forest canopy, another dedicated mother

ensures that her young also have the best
possible start in life.

This tiny strawberry poison
arrow frog only the size

of a fingernail is guarding
her fertilised eggs.

Whilst the eggs and tadpoles are
developing, she and her mate keep watch,

making sure that they are safe from
predators.

But they can't stay here forever.

The leaf litter is drying out and tadpoles
need water.

She must do something and fast.

She needs to move them, and so encourages
one tadpole to climb on her back.

She now begins an epic journey.

But it's not to a pond, as you might
expect.

She is looking for something very
particular.

Her journey takes her across the forest
floor to the foot of a tall tree,

and then she starts to climb.

For such a little frog, it is a marathon
ascent.

Like a human mother climbing the Empire
State Building with a child on her back.

She is looking for a plant, a bromeliad,
growing on the tree.

It holds a pool of
water at its centre, the

perfect nursery pool
for a developing tadpole.

In slides her youngster.

But this is only one of six tadpoles.

She must rush back down to rescue the
others.

One by one she collects them and carries
each to its own bromeliad.

But there is another problem.

The little pools contain no food.

So she has to provide it.

She lays an unfertilised egg in each pool
for her tadpoles to eat.

And then she leaves.

But one egg won't sustain
a growing tadpole for long,

so she has to return every
few days with another egg.

Over the next two weeks, she can climb
almost half a mile, tending her young.

An astonishing feat for such a tiny
creature.

While she's busy
delivering eggs, the tadpole

grows legs and its tail
begins to disappear.

And then one day it
leaves its bromeliad

nursery forever and
climbs out into the forest.

Whilst its mother has a well-deserved
rest.

Birds are also diligent parents.

Over their lifetime, they invest huge
effort in just a few young.

But there is only so much a parent can do.

All along the Antarctic Peninsula,
both male and female chinstrap penguins

have been commuting daily from the open
ocean to collect food for their chicks.

Mouthfuls of krill caught many miles away
at sea are regurgitated.

But one day, the chicks wait in vain for
food.

Their parents do not return.

The chicks now face life on their own.

This is the toughest time in an animal's
life.

And some are not going to make it.

Over the next few
days, driven by hunger,

the chicks make their
way down to the shore.

Instinct tells them they have to head out
to sea.

Built to withstand the cold, they have
already accumulated a layer of fat and

their outer feathers act as a waterproof
shield.

But they still have to learn to swim.

The polar sea is challenging enough.

But with a change in the wind,
a slick of broken ice has choked the bay.

For any penguin, this ice presents a real
problem.

But for the chicks, it's a disaster.

They must get through this barrier to the
open water if they are to feed.

One, perhaps hungrier or
braver than the rest, leads the way

and tries skittering over the
top while the others watch.

The ice is hard to swim through and
progress is painfully slow.

This chick never had the chance to learn
how to avoid the seal.

Its end is inevitable.

The

leopard seal efficiently flays the chick,
tearing off a small piece with each throw.

Others take their chance.

But

the leopard seal is now ready for its next
victim.

It's a lottery.

And the lucky chicks make it out to open
water.

There is still an element of chance in life
which an individual can do little about.

In the end, overcoming life's challenges,
whether finding enough to eat or

outwitting your predators,
is only significant

if life's final
challenge can be met.

From a tiny frog, dedicating weeks to her
few cherished tadpoles, to an orangutan

who spends eight years
bringing up her baby, individual

animals strive to reach
this one ultimate goal.

To pass on their genes and to ensure the
survival of the next generation.

Ultimately, in nature, that is what life
is all about.

During the three years it took to film
life, our camera crews visited every

continent on Earth, but the most
challenging was Antarctica.

Here, filming was only
possible with the help of

an extraordinary range of
people and organizations.

An Air Force jet delivering
supplies to McMurdo Research

Station ferried one of our
crews to the Ross Ice Shelf.

And on the other side of the continent,
a team sailed for five days across the

Drake Passage to reach the Antarctic
Peninsula.

Once there, a small crew was
put ashore on Deception Island

to spend a month camping on
the edge of a penguin colony.

Two people and 200,000 penguins.

Another team joined
scientists drilling through the

ice to explore the beautiful
and bizarre world below.

But

the hardest and most ambitious shoot
involved four film crews, a celebrated

French yachtsman, and the Ministry of
Defense.

The teams had a two-month window to film
Antarctica's two top predators in action.

We knew that one could be found prowling
the coast of Rosenthal Island,

waiting for young penguins to take their
first plunge.

And the man to take us there was Jérôme
Ponce.

He skippered the first yacht
to sail south of the Antarctic

Circle and has been back
every year for the past 35.

He knows Antarctic sailing like no one
else.

His yacht, the Golden
Fleece, is not an icebreaker,

but Jérôme has his own
unique way of getting through.

He shunts one flow against another to
clear a way through, like playing marbles.

Jérôme, once he gets his teeth into a
situation, he doesn't like to let it go.

So maybe we'll be here for a few hours
yet.

Jérôme is determined to get through this
channel.

And you talk about hundreds
and hundreds of tons,

maybe a thousand tons
for a big flow or more.

You don't know.

All little waters have to push.

Some marbles are just too big.

For now, Jérôme is foiled and has to moor
for the night.

For him, tying up to 100,000 tons of ice
is just another day at the office.

Progress is slow, but they need to get to
Rosenthal before the penguins leave.

They make it through and the penguins are
still there.

Tinslap penguin chicks fledge at a
particular time of year.

The crew knew this would draw leopard
seals like a magnet.

Leopard seals are giants among their kind.

They have teeth bigger than a lion and a
mouth that can open nearly 180 degrees.

How close can Doug get?

Would this seal vary?

He loses interest in his reflection and
goes back to eating penguins.

That was very exciting.

He was a super seal.

Super seal gave me lots of action nice and
close.

But I must admit, you do have to feel
sorry for the penguin.

Just doesn't stand a chance.

The team knew where to find
leopard seals, but finding the

other top predator was going
to be another matter entirely.

Very little is known about Antarctic
killer whales.

Time to bring in reinforcements.

HMS Endurance.

The Royal Navy's ice patrol ship.

She surveys Antarctic waters and the crew
see changes every year.

The latest chart of this area,
we are now six miles inside an ice shelf,

which just goes to show
how much attrition of this ice

shelf has occurred over
the past five or six years.

Series producer Martha Holmes and
cameraman David Bailey were on board to

find and film the killer whales from the
air.

Endurance carries two Lynx
helicopters used to assist

the British Antarctic Survey
and the Hydrographic Office.

On this trip, some time on one of the
helicopters is assigned to the life team.

No one has succeeded
in filming killer whales

hunting off the Antarctic
Peninsula before.

Our two teams have just a few days when
they can film together.

The

Golden Fleece has exciting news.

They've found killer whales which look as
though they could be hunting.

Navy 435, Navy 435, this is Golden Fleece.

Golden Fleece, over.

We're on, Hawker.

This could be it.

Over.

Copy that.

We're on our way.

It's getting really windy.

We'll be pretty lucky to stay with them
through this.

It's going to be a good try, though.

435, this is Golden Fleece.

We had lost sight of the Orca.

The Orca, they're in direct line with that
iceberg now.

Between us and the iceberg, about 100
metres to the side of it.

Visual.

Yeah, visual.

From the air, the helicopter
team can follow the

killer whales more
easily than the boat team.

435, this is Golden Fleece.

Golden Fleece, out.

By working together, the
helicopter and yacht are

able to keep track of the
whales in the rough sea.

They're four now, actually, yeah.

Four and four, actually.

A change in the weather gives the chance
to film at last.

They've gone further up this way.

If we follow them, that's good.

But will they hunt?

OK, they come close.

One, two, three, four, five, six,
seven, eight, nine, ten.

It's a good 12.

Easy.

Doug has spotted a crappie to seal near
some ice.

But have the killer whales seen it?

No, just keep nosing in this way.

It's fine.

They have.

Will you go closer?

It's over.

That's it.

We've got him.

It's still there.

For a wildlife cameraman, there are always
surprises.

It has taken two months, but they've
succeeded, thanks to extraordinary

collaboration from an entire ship's
company to a lone skipper.

Collaborations like this
would be the foundation

of the whole three years
filming across the world.

Captions

by Red Bee Media Copyright Australian
Broadcasting Corporation