Original subtitles

For most of the year South Africa's

western border with the sea is severe and unforgiving.

It's a narrow and harsh belt of coastline called the Sandveld.

But for the creatures that live in the ocean,

it's an entirely different story

A rich current

provides generously for every inhabitant of the sea.

For those that thrive

in the cold temperatures and stormy swells,

this underwater domain is a sanctuary.

The Sandveld is a land of contrasts,

And every creature has adapted to endure its volatile habitat.

South Africa's western frontier with the sea

is a harsh and arid terrain.

A narrow strip of land shouldering the ocean,

the Sandveld is as unyielding as it is beautiful.

The sands that line the coast are coarse and drained.

They provide only for hardy shrubs

and their resilient residents.

The seasons fluctuate between extremes.

The inhabitants of the Sandveld

have to withstand the relentless winds,

The salt-laden mists -

And the scorching sun.

But for a small portion of the year

after the winter rains finish,

the August spring brings new life -

and the landscape becomes a wonderland.

While they patiently await the arrival of spring,

the animals on this stretch of earth

stubbornly endure their unforgiving home.

The ocean paints a very different picture.

The rocky shores that abruptly sever

the Sandveld's link to the ocean are rich and nurturing.

The sea is as plentiful as the land is scarce.

While the terrestrial creatures fight the severity of the land,

those that live in the sea

group in their masses to enjoy the generosity of the ocean.

The neighbors of these two bordering realms

are as dissimilar as their habitats.

And every animal here

must endure the seasons and cope with the area in which it lives.

This stretch of beach in the north of the Sandveld

is home to the Cape fur seal -

and it's their permanent base.

Seals are ocean-based mammals,

but they have strong ties to the land.

They spend most of their time in the sea,

Yet they still breathe air

and they have to come on to land to rest and to give birth.

Seals are a curious crossover species

caught somewhere between two vastly different worlds -

part land and part ocean.

They're considerably more cumbersome when moving around

on solid ground.

This is where they are most vulnerable to predation,

but also where they need to come to breed.

Because of this, large groups of seals

only occur where terrestrial predators are limited.

Optimum sites are few and far between.

This beach at Kleinzee in the Sandveld

holds the largest on-land aggregation of Cape fur seals

in the world.

With such large numbers, prime space is a valuable commodity -

One that only the dominant bulls can procure.

A successful bull territory

can contain up to 30 females and their offspring.

The pups will nurse for 10 months, until spring.

Then the big bulls will emerge

to fight for the best mating sites.

Forcing the youngsters out

to face the challenges of the ocean by themselves.

The arrival of spring

signals the beginning of their independence.

Because of the double-nature of their existence,

seals can choose whether to face the dangers

of the Atlantic ocean,

or the severity of the land.

Not every animal has this luxury.

While spring means exile for the baby seals,

the Sandveld's landlocked inhabitants

desperately await its arrival.

Imprisoned by barriers of mountains and rivers on one side

and the cold Atlantic on the other,

the animals that live here have to endure the hot summer

and wet winter,

waiting for the brief window of life in spring.

During the summer the Sandveld is hostile and scarce.

Temperatures reach 90 degrees Fahrenheit.

And only half an inch of rainfall

reaches the land per month.

Little is provided for those who live here.

And death

is a constant visitor.

Within this landscape,

the smallest of creatures have made their home.

The Angulate tortoise is bound to wander the Sandveld,

laboriously moving through the terrain in search of shelter.

They are hardy and robust,

able to survive in difficult conditions.

And there are a number of tricks that help them endure

their dry habitat.

Their skin is hard and impermeable.

This greatly reduces the amount of water that they lose.

The dry Sandveld wind

consistently withers all that it encounters,

and so the Angulate tortoise

spends as little time away from the shelter of the shrubs

as it can.

The key to their survival

is their shy nature.

But there are other reptiles here

that have adapted to take advantage

of the abundant exposure of the open lands.

Where the hot summer sun is a persecution to others,

it is a source of life and mobility

for the lizards of the Sandveld.

They are cold blooded, so they need to bask in the sun

to regulate their body temperature.

But this can be as much a burden as it is a blessing

especially in the Sandveld.

Relying on the sun's heat means this Cape girdled lizard

has to leave itself exposed in plain view.

The boulders that the lizard depends on for basking

are the ideal hunting ground for a Rock kestrel.

But these rocks are also the main defense

of the Sandveld's reptiles.

Their solace is temporary;

soon they must leave again to find warmth and food.

And so they rely on both the shelter of the rock crevices

and on the open exposure of the surface.

A curious double bind that sees these small reptiles

constantly maneuvering around the boulders of the Sandveld.

One species

seems to have solved this dilemma in an interesting way.

Armadillo girdled lizards

have a heavily armored outer tail and body,

but their soft underbellies are vulnerable.

And they have dealt with this in an intriguing fashion.

By biting their tails, the lizards ensure

that they don't leave their vulnerable sections exposed.

And they have another tactic to protect themselves

from the predators of the Sandveld.

Armadillo girdled lizards aggregate in large groups.

They have sentries manning multiple posts,

facing all directions.

If a threat comes from the sky or the ground,

it will be seen by one of the many lizards on watch.

They wait underneath the protection of overhanging rocks,

only leaving to bask

or to eat.

Within such large groups, there are hierarchies.

And when food is limited,

only the most dominant get to enjoy it.

Socializing among lizards is not a common phenomenon,

but suitable cover is limited.

So Armadillo girdled lizards join together to find food,

shelter from the elements

and evade predators.

Refuge is not easy to come across in the Sandveld.

Only the hardiest vegetation can survive this difficult terrain.

This is Namaqualand sand fynbos;

It occupies 270,000 acres of the Sandveld.

It's the driest of all fynbos types.

In some areas

it manages to live within a meager average rainfall

of less than 4 inches per year.

So like all that live here,

it has ingenious ways to survive the harshness of its habitat.

As the Benguela current surges along the coast

it draws frigid, deep water to the surface.

When the prevailing winds blow onshore from farther out to sea,

they carry warm air laden with moisture.

The warm moisture collides with the cold surface water,

giving rise to thick fog.

Here the ocean feeds the land.

Mists and winds are present for at least 120 nights of the year,

And they are a gift to the resident plants.

It's estimated that the moisture delivered by the Sandveld fog

can be up to three times as much as the amount of its rainfall.

This is where the scarcity of the land

and the richness of the ocean meet.

Because of this, the plants have developed

to make the most of their main source of nourishment.

The roots of many species in the habitat

have numerous fine divisions just below the earth.

These help maximize the surface area of the water intake.

Within these conditions,

an intriguing plant flourishes among the fynbos.

The Euphorbia caput-madusae.

So named because of its long tentacles

emerging like the serpents on the head of the mythological

Greek figure.

It survives the unremitting habitat

by remaining partly underground;

leaving only its branches exposed.

And there's a creature that has an unexpected relationship

with these serpentine spires.

The Rough-scaled girdled lizard

is one of the few members of its kind that doesn't hide

between the rocks.

Its head and body

are not flattened like many of the other girdled lizards;

this reflects its preference for living away from boulders.

It has another way to shelter

from the Sandveld's elements and predators.

The plant protects the reptiles

in the way that rocks protect the other girdled lizards.

When under threat from a predator,

it can lose itself within the labyrinthine stems.

And it provides another important service.

Because invertebrates also shelter here;

the lizards do not need to move far to get their food.

They're gifted a complimentary room service for their tenure.

But there aren't many euphorbias

that can provide adequate protection.

So competition for the ones that do

is fierce.

There's a hierarchy within the plant's residents -

those that are lower down are condemned

to the more exposed spires.

The stronger lizards have their choice of the sections

that are harder for predators to access.

This is a necessary compromise, produced by the harsh habitat.

The severity has caused an otherwise solitary lizard

to become communal.

Until the winter rains arrive

the Sandveld relinquishes little for its residents.

Springbok thrive in aridity.

They're at home grazing amongst the scant dunes.

By being able to digest young tender grass

and a variety of shrubs and succulents,

they're well provided for.

But their greatest advantage for surviving these lands

is their ability to go without fresh water.

And this is the trick

that also allows the Sandveld's largest resident

to see the summer through.

Cape eland can go for long periods

without needing to drink.

This nomadic family constantly moves through the Sandveld.

Their broad habitat tolerance and extremely varied diet

allow them to cope.

But in order to survive, there needs to be enough moisture

in the plants that they eat.

Until the winter rains,

this family must survive off the little that's on offer.

While those on land endure the summer heat,

the ocean continues to burst with life.

As the Benguela current moves up the coast,

the earth's rotation causes the surface water

to deflect away from the shore.

Coupled with the prevailing winds,

this draws up cold, nutrient rich water

from as deep as 1000 feet below.

As the nutrient-rich water

is pulled shallow enough to collide with the sun's rays,

an explosion of life occurs.

Forests of free-floating algae come into bloom.

Attracting large schools of fish.

These in turn

bring the carnivores.

Among them, hundreds and thousands of Cape fur seals

and sea birds that arrive to feed.

Pieces of drift kelp

soak up the water's nourishment and wash to shore.

As the winds whip and batter the sea,

they whisk up a thick froth of organic matter.

These water-borne clouds are rich in biological material

that feeds the intertidal zones.

A constant influx of nutrients infiltrates the ocean border

in many different forms.

This draws some unexpected inland visitors out.

Flamingos

use their bill to filter through the surface of the water -

this optimizes the nutrients they can extract.

Adapted to function best across the still waters of a lake,

this technique is considerably harder to practice

on a moving wave.

But they persevere

in order to enjoy the banquet that the coastline offers.

The intertidal zones are the portal

between the Sandveld and the sea,

and they are coursing with nutrients.

Water constantly moves in and out of the rock pools

with the tide.

Flooded twice a day, the animals that exist here

must be able to live in two worlds.

For a portion of their time they are completely submerged -

for the rest they are entirely exposed.

There are a number of species that thrive

in this restless world,

But the most successful one

is not even from here.

The Mediterranean mussel arrived in the seventies when its larvae

were transported in the ballast water of visiting tankers

from Europe.

They have all but completely

replaced the indigenous intertidal invertebrates,

due to their speedier growth and reproduction rates.

But their success has played a part in the recuperation

of another Sandveld resident.

African black oystercatchers

are some of South Africa's most endangered coastal birds,

but their numbers are on the rise.

They've entirely adjusted their diet

to include these superabundant aliens,

and this has raised their reproductive success.

To feed on the mussels, oystercatchers must wait

until the mussel itself starts feeding.

As the mollusks feed they filter water into their bodies -

to do this

they must loosen their otherwise tightly clamped valves.

Here the bird takes its chance,

striking quickly to remove the tasty treat.

Mediterranean mussels now make up 90 percent

of this endangered bird's diet.

This has lead to a 30 percent increase

in oystercatcher populations over the last 30 years.

The Benguela current is the primary motor behind life here;

it drives the scores of aquatic animals that live in the sea,

whilst also providing moisture in the form of mist and fog

for those that endure the Sandveld landscape.

Winter brings rain;

The parched land floods.

The amount of rain relinquished increases to over 6 times

the dry season average.

And as the clouds clear and the spring sun comes out,

the coast is injected with new life.

The changing seasons bring transformation and relief.

And this prompts the arrival of another, very peculiar resident

of the Sandveld.

The Mountain white spot caterpillar.

Not much is known about these insects.

As the rains ease,

they emerge to devour the leaves of the Gonna bush.

These are their host plant

and they grow in abundance in the West Coast National Park.

When the males eventually grow into adult moths,

they will be handsome specimens with long wings

but with imperfect mouths, so they cannot feed.

And the females

are just as unusual.

She will remain wingless,

her eyes, head and antennae

will never emerge

and her legs will stay far too small

for any practical purposes.

As a result, she never leaves her cocoon

but merely waits for a male to seek her out and mate with her.

She will lay about 100 eggs inside her cocoon

and then die.

The eggs will hide out inside of her shriveled body

for the long, harsh summers and wet winters.

Then they'll hatch next spring

to consume these leaves and reproduce again,

and so their cycle continues.

This frantic activity is one of the first signs

of winter drawing to a close and spring beginning.

Male cape weavers begin building their nests.

They're skillfully and delicately crafted.

The males with the most appealing decor

will be the most successful breeders.

Once construction is complete,

they will wait at the entrance to their homes

and signal to any passing female,

attempting to lure them in.

They're highly polygamous.

A well-built male territory can seduce up to seven mates,

if the builder can successfully entice them inside.

When the time is right, the female will wait inside here

and incubate her eggs.

But attracting a mate is harder than it seems -

males must constantly jostle in the search for partners.

The weavers aren't the only birds alive

with the preparations of spring.

Waders breed in Siberia during the summer,

but as the black Arctic winter approaches

they undertake a massive migration

that ends here

in time for spring.

Langebaan lagoon inside the West Coast National Park

hosts 55,000 waders every year.

Their arrival ushers in a time of plenty for the Sandveld.

They thrive off the large quantities of invertebrates

inside the lagoon.

Here alone they consume over 300,000 pounds annually.

The waters become a hub of constant activity.

These migratory birds have traveled across the globe

to enjoy the Sandveld spring

and all of the food that the lagoon relinquishes.

The time has come for the seal pups to face the ocean.

And some seem more prepared than others.

They must be ready to fend for themselves in the cold Atlantic.

But this is a challenge that their bodies

are well equipped for.

Once underwater

the pups are superb aquatic acrobats.

Their most important sensory organs are their eyes.

These are lubricated by the salt water,

allowing them to see better under the waves than on land.

Their whiskers are sensitive to all vibrations

and direct them to their prey.

As the Benguela current continues to provide food

for the schools of pelagic fish along the rocky shores,

these youngsters have every opportunity to hunt

and grow into adults.

And by the time they're 5 years old

they'll emerge on the Sandveld's shores

to start the next generation.

When the winter rains draw to a close

and spring temperatures start to rise,

the landscape completely transforms.

For a brief window from August to September every year,

the Sandveld comes alive.

Life and color embroider the landscape.

Flowers bring the insects,

who provide an invaluable contribution.

Their pollination efforts allow this floral kingdom to continue.

The insects in turn

bring the birds.

Each year thousands of birds arrive to feast in the fields.

And for the Sandveld's antelope,

the arrival of the spring flowers

also signals a brief period of plenty.

But this brevity is compensated by its brilliance.

The eland family has patiently awaited

the spring transformation,

And they're joined by others of their kind to reap the rewards.

The flowers retain much rainwater

and are a welcome snack.

Bontebok will spend more than half of their day

grazing the flowers.

The Sandveld is the only place in the world where Bontebok

occur naturally.

And so they're adapted to eat a large variety of plants

in this floral biome.

During the long, dry summer

Cape mountain zebra

were forced to leave their preferred coastal grasses

and move to shrubs and leaves as the land provided less.

But now they flood back to the open pastures.

The land provides generously for all who have patiently endured

the long months of drought.

The Sandveld spring is a time of respite.

The landscape,

which for the majority of the year is scant and unyielding,

unfolds into a carpet of color

and vitality.

This is a welcome reward

for all who have endured the scorching summers

and harsh winters.

But the ocean is the true backbone of all who live here.

When little rain is provided for the landlocked residents,

it gives moisture in the form of fog.

And for those that live in the sea,

an abundance of resources

ensure that it's always teeming with activity.

The Sandveld exists as a delicate interplay

between land and ocean.

And this interrelationship is something that every resident

from its smallest plants

Quirkiest reptiles

And most charismatic mammals,

have all adapted to take advantage of.

To live here is to live within two different worlds

And the result is a habitat full of both the delicate

and the dauntless...

This is the Sandveld,

the land of contrasts.

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