Original subtitles

It is the beginning of the end of our story.

The final chapter of a river that has run its course.

They walk as if to the end of the world

on a journey to nowhere.

This ancient land is where the water turns to salt,

the air burns on the inhale,

and everything seems to wait to exhale.

What little water is left

is as dangerous as it is a salvation --

because it is a distraction.

A place where someone's mistake is someone else's lifeline.

A mistaken burst of energy can change your destiny.

This extraordinary realm

is the ancient extension of the Okavango,

a river of dreams.

The next and final chapter of our story

of the great Okavango in Botswana

is where its fingers clutch onto life,

as the water touches the desert,

where paradise turns into an inferno.

Each droplet is a jewel that holds

the fate of a small part of all life here.

It is the story of movement.

Everyone is on the move.

Like fragile porcelain, this part of the delta

is vulnerable to the smallest change --

in water, in temperature,

and from the swirling influences of tiny animals.

Red billed quelea in their millions start to flock.

These are the most abundant birds on the whole planet.

A single super-flock of quelea

can devour twenty tons of feed a day,

and that changes everything here.

The quelea will change the lives of the nearby leopard family,

as the flock strips the grasses down to bare sand.

The little female's brother has less time for such reflections,

he is more interested in how things work in the world.

Like the bees, returning laden with pollen.

He hasn't learned the dangers of being curious yet.

Bee-eaters swoop in to take advantage.

Bored with killer bees,

he takes to irritating his more serious twin sister.

It's the season of the sausage tree flowers.

Good for bees...

and the ideal place for the twin's mother to hang out.

She's not resting, she's waiting for the fallen flowers

to attract attention.

Usually, leopards catch just once in every 5 attempts,

but by using this sausage tree technique,

she has a much higher success rate.

It's also why we call her "Moporoto" --

the local name for sausage tree.

The cubs are developing their own killing skills,

but by watching Moporoto, they might understand

exactly what these flowers can give them.

Rest is impossible, so within minutes,

she heads back to the trees.

The throat hold makes it a silent death.

Stealth after the kill is as important as before

for one of the smallest of the big cats.

In this complex mosaic of the Okavango,

bigger predators and scavengers stride

across the landscape as if they own it.

They do own it.

Here, the water separates into streams and rivulets,

winding fingers that cut through the grassland

and sausage tree islands.

The lions are in search of shade,

but the breeze has hints of the smell of meat on it.

If the cubs panic, they could slip.

It would end their story.

The lions want the kill, but just can't get to it.

Thankfully, the lions have their own cubs,

and the massive sausage pods distract them.

Their fascination with the woody pods

is a mystery to the leopard cubs.

But from now on, their lives will be intertwined

with all these other predators,

because the Okavango has one of the highest densities

of carnivores in Africa.

And they're periodically thrown together by the flood.

There is a chill in the morning air now,

but during the day, the temperature starts to rise.

This signals the start of the dry season,

when the channels begin to shrink.

Oxygen levels drop.

The fish that recognize that turn and head back upstream.

Those that leave it just too late get cut off, isolated.

The birds harvest tons of fish each year.

Their collective and organized feeding frenzy

will clean out a pool in just a few days.

But all the way down the delta, right to the end fingers,

these fish traps provide for one of the greatest diversities

of water birds in Africa.

Being able to move is critical to survival at the fringes,

where water supply is fickle during this part of the year.

When the feed above ground is depleted,

elephants go in search of a new protein source.

They start mining the rhizomes and grass roots

buried in the sand.

In the dry season,

the entire value of the grasses is stored below the surface.

Local residents have to protest to stay safe.

A pack of painted dogs have a small problem today...

Actually, 16 problems...

Having this many puppies causes a problem

because only one female in the pack is allowed to breed.

So, the Alpha female has stolen her sisters puppies...

but she's struggling to feed them all.

It's a free-for-all, but she refuses to share

this burden of motherhood or abandon any pups.

The headache for the alpha male is that

they're going to be called on to hunt twice a day now,

and they're already exhausted.

So is the river.

After its nearly thousand-mile journey,

the full thrust of the flood has ended.

The water flow settles and starts to seep in.

Even sleeping giants can be woken by a small niggling voice.

It's a nudge that starts a ripple effect of movement.

It's the largest migration of elephants in the world.

Now, the air is so dry

that it turns the grasses brittle under their feet.

They cover hundreds of miles in search of water.

It's a 50-gallon-a-day challenge,

so these Okavango elephants are seldom far away from water --

water that others live in, fight in,

and churn up into mud faster than is necessary.

But this pressure on resources sets the elephants off again

in search of clean water,

and behind them, the land is left to rest.

At these fringes, those that can move have an advantage.

Warthogs are after the same buried grass roots, rhizomes.

It's the season when warthogs cluster around rhizome patches.

It's an awkward position to be in.

Lionesses have to hunt whatever prey is in their territory.

A good pig hunting day will see two or three taken in one hunt.

They can hide -- but they shouldn't run...

Here, it's all about territory.

Warthogs will feed the lionesses until the rains,

but it's risky being territorial at the far end of the water.

A low flood one year, and they will be high and dry.

Moporoto has been hunting.

The sausage tree technique is still working for her.

Her island has been the perfect refuge for her and her cubs.

Because the little male always gets to feed first,

the female cub tries to hone her tree climbing skills.

She doesn't quite have the hang of it yet.

Moporoto has to start thinking about moving soon:

the smell of meat and cubs has started to attract attention.

It's a stolen meal -- next time it might be a cub.

She has to move them now.

It's their first venture away from their birth place,

into a world filled with strangeness for them.

The open grassland is very risky for a leopard with cubs.

For Moporoto, there is just something about the way

the vultures are circling...

Something definitely worth looking into.

It's a giraffe, killed in a fight.

Out here, there are no free meals

the hyenas aren't already aware of.

Her cubs panic.

One up the tree...

the other to the bush.

He is safe.

Now she has a problem,

and it's largely one of communication.

She somehow tells him to stay in the tree,

but tries to encourage the little female

back from the bushes.

She tests the night.

Her tree climbing lessons paid off.

The lost little female is found.

The single event -- a giraffe fight gone wrong --

has attracted a full range of opportunists.

It's almost unheard of for painted dogs to scavenge,

but the pack needs this now.

If they're going to bring up 16 pups,

any meat at this fragile water's end will do.

This will go a long way.

But vultures will just attract other scavengers now,

and the real danger to dogs is lions,

so it's tense around the carcass...

especially for the stranded leopard cub.

The alpha male's obsession with vultures is a distraction.

It's Moporoto all a-hiss with fury,

way out-numbered,

but with the confidence of a lion.

Their adventure, their first in the world beyond their den, is over.

It takes a little coaxing, but he finally understands

that she feels it's safe to come down.

Backwards is fine, too...

A last feed before it starts all over again with hyenas,

and possibly lions.

But each interaction makes the cubs stronger now,

better equipped to grow in this extraordinary swampland

and its fingers of water that stretch out into the desert.

The farther away from permanent water the herds go,

the more closely followed they are by nomadic lions.

Desperate hunters without the restriction of territories.

Elephants dominate,

and it is here that the nomadic lions

find the best opportunities.

They understand that someone's desperation is their hope.

They're often young, displaced siblings,

both males and females.

Now these nomads must form even stronger bonds,

as they move into the unknown thirst land.

The heat is hard on anyone who is slightly slower.

She was asleep at her den when the nomads found her.

Bat-eared foxes mate for life.

He has no choice but to watch the lions play with his mate.

He will have to raise the family alone now

and be the lookout for all of them.

Secretary birds are no threat,

as long as you stay still.

The fox family is ready to bolt if she gets any closer.

The scrub hare at the bird's feet knows to freeze.

But secretary birds hunt on movement -

even the slightest movement...

It takes nerves of steel to wait it out.

He just didn't have them...

If you can't move, you have to change tactics.

There are very few that can survive

for long beyond the water.

Tragedy follows any misstep out here...

Procrastination when it comes to a decision

to leave a territory, a pool of mud,

is simply foolhardy.

But some just get caught out.

As a last desperate effort,

barbel, one of the few fish in the world

with accessory breathing capabilities

that allow them to breath actual air,

start to "walk."

Some burrow into the mud and slow their metabolisms

right down to barely a heartbeat...

waiting for the rains.

If they get it wrong, they're on the top layer and simply bake.

She doesn't have the bulky body of Moporoto,

because she doesn't get the same food.

She's a desert leopard.

But the wily leopard living on the edge

has a talent for finding the impossible...

A buried barbel.

It's small, but in a few days,

the hippo will probably be stuck too.

She can wait...

It starts with the most gentle of breezes,

dusting the scorched sands.

The zebras are the first to recognize it.

It comes from out there.

Where the herds go, the nomads follow.

Movement.

The hot air rises and cools.

As it drops down, the air triggers a cycle

of the most extraordinary contrasts.

It is the eternal journey of life from death,

water from dry,

and motion from the static stifling heat.

They run on the promise of rain.

Within days, over 3,000 miles of flat thirst land is transformed

by just a few inches of sheet rain water.

It takes the pressure off everyone.

It unlocks them from purgatory.

It releases the nomads to spend energy playing again.

It attracts thousands of pink visitors

from across the subcontinent.

The arrival of the flamingos is all about sodium chloride --

basic salt.

The rain has stimulated

a hatching of shrimp that they feed on.

The sheet water gives them safety,

an early warning against being ambushed.

Their pantomime is only interrupted

by a snooping jackal.

He's heading somewhere else anyway.

The smell of blood on the wind.

A wandering lion, like so many other cats here,

prefers the rough and spiky grass islands

to the sticky salt water.

It's hard for everyone.

Full moon in the salt pans

is a kaleidoscope of night light,

dancing off the white salty sands below the water.

If you are a zebra in Bostwana and want to find a mate,

fight for your right to a herd or even give bird in a safety of thousands

this is the place to be.

To really understand the Okavango is to know

that this precious water takes half a year

to reach the full extent of its range.

It nourishes over 10,000 square miles

and everything that lives in it.

Every single life here plays its own unique role

in creating this pristine landscape.

And together, they all change the water's flow.

They are a reflection of the river itself.

It is one of the last places on Earth

where giants can still roam unmolested.

Where babies can trust in tomorrow,

and where hope is alive.

It is a jewel,

but its future is entirely in our hands.

We can protect it,

or stand back and just easily bear witness

to the very last life here,

and watch as it all ghosts away like a dream.