All language subtitles for Keas New Zealands Witty Daredevils 1080p HDTV MVGroup EN Sub

There are some parrots

that just don't act like parrots.

The keas in New Zealand just
love the snow and the cold

and the harsh climate of the mountains.

To survive here, they've developed

an unusual intelligence and resourcefulness.

These mountain parrots.

But for some time now, things are looking different

in the snow.

And that is offering up a host of new possibilities

for their intellectual talents.

They test some things

and explore others.

They're also full of mischievous curiosity

and they make friends.

But their world is changing.

New challenges, new dangers.

Will they manage to adapt?

From the beginning the birds

have dominated New Zealand.

And that, throughout the
country, there are no mammals.

For every environment, the matching bird species.

Down below on the forest floor,

wingless kiwis poke around.

Further up, climbing among the trees, are kakas,

the local inhabitants of the forest.

Along the coast there are seagulls,

as there are everywhere.

But here their beaks look
like they've had a makeover.

In the tufts of the grasslands,

the indigenous and rare takahe birds.

They target stem after stem with their beak

to get to the grass seed.

And finally, the sparse rocky regions.

This is the domain of the keas.

Dried out bark, so dry that one
has to have a quick rinse.

Foraging for little worms on thawed out meadows,

luxurious it is not.

Burrowing for grass seeds

or lapping up pollen from the flowers.

One must be resourceful and innovative

to survive on top of these barren mountains.

And one is not only talking about survival.

Where to find a place to
breed, and to raise a family?

There are only a few that have seen a young kea

in the wilderness.

Corey Mosen is one of them.

He's underway on business, as ranger

and as conservationist.

From September until April Corey tracks the keas'

breeding burrows.

In the deepest wilderness, far away from humans.

He's attempting to calculate a census

of the new offspring.

How many chicks are there?

It's only when he's fully exhaled

that he can fit through the narrow opening.

The den lies some meters under the surface,

but then Corey is in luck.

His labors are rewarded.

Two chicks that are clearly warm and well-fed.

The young chicks remain underground

for an entire three months,

under the watchful eye of their parent.

Only then are they big enough and prepared

for the harsh world outside.

Corey would love to have the chance

to see how they eventually leave the nest,

never to return.

Undoubtedly, with a little more ease than himself.

There is an abundance of caves in New Zealand.

Large amounts of water wash away the limestone,

forming paths and grottos,

grottos that one could only dream of.

A curtain of glowing pearls.

And this is how they're formed.

Syrupy drops eked out by the
larvae of a fungus gnat.

A deadly curtain for insects.

The larvae attract their prey with a light

that's produced chemically in their body.

And they that fly too close to the light

are trapped in the adhesive mesh.

The larvae silently slide
along their pre-laid track

towards their prey.

There is no escape for the moth.

With every flap of their wings,

they become increasingly ensnared.

Striving for the light means certain death

in this eerie cave world.

And thereafter, as seen from a distance,

the brutal reality dissipates.

The ravenous larvae transforms into a glowing star

on the canopy of the cave.

When Corey thinks about caves,

he thinks about kea caves.

Every one is recorded in a book,

pedantically exact.

GPS data, age, condition of the chicks, and so on.

In a roots hollow, he recently discovered

three young keas and ringed them.

By now they should be old enough to leave the nest.

Are they still there?

Or have they already flown the nest?

Tentatively, he moves closer.

At the same time, he looks for a suitable place

to install a camera

and to position a small light.

Then, he reverses himself outside again.

Just three months old, but
already the size of an adult.

And as children are, they have to explore

everything.

One can see that they're young

because of the yellow circles around their eyes.

Also, the base of their beak is a youthful yellow.

But eventually, it's quite enough of cave life.

Even mum thinks so.

And her call falls upon open ears.

Well, at last.

The first steps in an exciting world of light.

There are hard stones

and soft bark to crumble,

the first practice with material substances.

Mum always has an eye on the kids.

She mollycoddles them and nibbles them.

But not all like to be mothered quite so much.

Young keas are free to do everything.

The parents are extremely generous,

and remain relaxed whenever they're dismissed.

They've got, if one could say, a soft heart,

as if they know how hard the
oncoming winter will be

for the young ones.

Only half will survive it.

The berries could be tasty.

One just has to try, even
if they are a bit high up.

There's just so much to try out.

Like a microphone with a windshield, for example.

And the sound recorder seems
to be quite interesting too.

With his bright colors, quite
remarkable these bipeds.

And they'll have to examine this little camera,

only to find that it's not standing solidly.

The children are busy,

a chance for a little excursion to the road.

There's even a little food to be had.

But tourists aren't really so exciting.

The take hundreds of pictures with them,

but they forget something intriguing behind.

A soft and cuddly toy.

No one can resist.

Regardless if young or old,
keas remain full of play

their entire lifetime.

A toy might be a bit of fun,

but playing together is the best.

Keas find their way in the world through playing.

But for all, there remains one question.

Why do they live in the mountains?

Why not further down in the green forests?

There, there'd be soft cushions of moss,

instead of hardened stone.

There's clear water where
one could even take a bath.

Luxurious greenery and plentiful fruit.

But the keas have been refused such a paradise.

Others were simply there first, the forest parrots,

the kakas.

They are the masters of climbing.

Their powerful beak is perfect
for harvesting the fruit.

They love climbing the labyrinth of the branches

and only use their wings when necessary.

In short, the kakas were
made for life in the forest.

Here they are showered with everything they need.

To rid themselves of such competition,

the keas remain in the cold mountainous regions.

The tough luck of the draw it's true,

but it was the impetus for
their unusual intelligence

and creativity.

Kakas in comparison, were never forced

to develop such mental faculties.

The forest offers them all they could wish for.

In the spring, the trees even
offer up sweet honey for them.

The white bloom that covers the trunks of the trees

is made up of millions of fine strands,

each decorated at the end with
a little droplet of sugar.

It's honeydew.

Mealybugs beneath the bark,

only a couple of millimeters in size,

but it is they that send it

through hairline ducts a
centimeter long, to the outside.

The forest produces confectionery

and there is no shortage of takers.

The bellbird nibbles drop after drop,

while the kaka licks with a flattened tongue.

The sugared juice is more than a snack.

He collects it for others.

Hopping and clambering, he makes his way

back to his tree hollow.

Here, the furry recipients are waiting.

They've just hatched.

The kaka's chicks need the sweet dew

as a form of energy

and they come from a world
where the forest provides it

by the mealybugs.

Matched like a hand to a glove,

kakas are the children of the forest.

Naturally, they need other forms of nutrition

and there is a new, somewhat curious

alternative that presents itself

in a clearing in the middle of the forest.

A treadle feeder.

One steps on the front and it opens,

revealing a supply of nuts.

All by itself.

One doesn't need to think about it too much.

You just have to be heavy enough.

The feeding machine is designed

to test the intelligence of the kakas.

Are they really less capable
than the keas in the mountains?

The biologist Julia Loepelt
wants to put it to the test,

and changes it a little bit.

The same box, but this time without a pedal.

It'll be filled with tempting cashew nuts.

Forest parrots are much shyer and more withdrawn

than the keas, and need a further invitation.

Come here.

Come on.

Come on.

But without the pedal, it's a bit tricky.

The lid simply closes again.

Without a clue.

There has to be something to do about it.

But gravity is against the birds.

There's only one watching on, as if he knew better.

And it's true.

Now he makes his move.

Lift it from the side and flap it over.

That's how you do it!

One of them has set the example.

Will the others follow it?

Forest parrots, it seems, are not the brightest

of contestants.

But why should they be?

In the forest, the food just
seems to fall into their beaks.

Kaka and kea.

Each has the ability that it needs.

So far, so good.

However the great test of truth remains to be seen.

It was 1,000 years ago that the first people

ventured onto New Zealand.

Soon, they were hunting birds
and clearing the forest.

500 years later, Europeans
are continuing the tradition

with other resources.

They're converting it into the planet of the birds.

For the keas in the mountains,

that is of little danger at first.

Everything that's new is worthy of a visit.

It's got its own particular appeal.

Variety and change are their calling cards.

They're looking for conversation.

There's a walkie-talkie, just the thing.

However, soon they discover
that all this tree cutting

opens up some extra creature comforts.

On the inside of the decaying
trunks there are fat larvae,

high in protein.

Keas have agile minds.

They utilize things for their own means,

sometimes not as they were originally intended.

The packing for this sandwich is empty.

It seems that today is not a good one.

At least, a little drink of the bottle.

He's figured out the screw cap.

But unfortunately, the bottle is empty.

Even without sunshine, an
umbrella can still be useful.

And when it gets to be too wet,

a change of location is needed.

On the other side of the
mountain the weather is better.

Perfect weather for flying.

For the professionals, and the super-professionals.

The interest is mutual.

Experts together.

Time to take a closer look.

But first, back to the spectators' area.

It goes with a long run up.

Or, from standing.

But each savors the carrying wind.

Keas like to get close to the paragliders,

out of pure curiosity to see what else

is sharing their air space.

Do they just want to join in?

Perhaps they simply have as much fun

watching us as we do them.

But it's not such a big challenge for them.

That is somewhere else.

At the Homer Pass, the road disappears

under the colossal massive.

Flying over the top is not a problem for keas,

but does it have to be so?

Where the cars go, keas can go too.

Just right.

It's green.

That camper van is rather convenient.

A true test of courage.

Head down.

Until one gets to the other side.

That takes a lot of hootspa.

Keas simply make the best out of everything.

What could possibly happen?

But menace walks with a silent tread,

everywhere in the wilderness.

The birds' enemies like cats and dogs

have been brought by the humans.

Rats and mice.

Even the possum, which was
introduced from Australia

for its soft fur.

It finds the eggs and the chicks.

And worst of all, the marten.

It kills what it can.

Increasingly, Corey comes across the trails

of these migrants, and it's causing him concern.

The nest is destroyed,

the eggs cold and dead.

The tuatara could also be
part of the list of suspects.

He, with peaks on his back,

derives his name from the Maoris.

The indigenous tuatara existed in prehistoric times

with the dinosaurs,

and can only be found in New Zealand.

They can live to be 100 years old,

and aside from insects, they eat the keas' eggs

and the chicks.

But Corey doesn't believe it for one minute,

and he's proved right.

He's set up ample surveillance cameras

throughout the forest.

They're fitted with movement sensors.

He does on the spot checks regardless of the rain

to see if the video traps have picked up anything.

It is as he feared.

Martens are in the territory.

They track down the nests and help themselves.

It's all too easy for them as ground-based thieves.

The keas are powerless against the imported danger.

Their way of breeding is tried and tested

over millions of years and is deeply embedded

in their genes.

What is to be done?

Resources against martens,

that is the job of Martin Jared.

Traps for the martens are set up all over the area,

even in the remote mountain regions.

It's Martin's job to monitor them.

The headquarters is a tin shack

in the Murchison Mountains.

He lights the oven and drinks a cup of coffee.

Unfortunately, the radio set is dead.

With care and a pair of pliers,

Martin gets it up and running again.

Contact to the base station is reestablished.

The relief to be in contact again is clear.

And there it is.

It's as if the kea has sensed that something's

going on here.

And Martin lets it be known he's there as well.

He raps out his presence on the sauce spoon.

A new sound, and a phony artist.

That's something that no kea can resist.

It's much too curious.

One simply wants to know what's going on

in one's patch.

Time to give a bit of support to this

sympathetic intellectual.

Martin is out on a monitoring tour of the traps.

He loves these fairytale-like mountains

and its feathered inhabitants.

The traps are wooden boxes

with a chicken egg as bait
and a deadly springed bar,

similar to a mousetrap.

This one has managed to trap a rat,

also an enemy of the kea

and here as a consequence of humans.

In fact, it's even managed to
kill two at the same time.

Martin has cleaned the trap and put a new egg in.

At the next trap, he discovers a surprise.

The trap has been sprung,
but there's nothing inside.

Simply a broken eggshell and twigs.

How has that happened?

Did a kea, possibly with a stick?

Highly unlikely.

Something like that has never been seen before.

Martin also sets up surveillance cameras,

because there are a number of
similarly sabotaged traps.

Who could this mysterious saboteur be?

And what exactly happens?

The trap awaits the solution.

Further down in the forests,
there are other concerns.

The clearing action is obviously
distressing the kakas.

Forest parrots without a forest,
is simply unacceptable.

Their wild paradise, cleaned and neatly pilled up.

Stacked cubic meters for a depleted living space.

Even where the forest is healthy,

there remains the threat to be gobbled up.

Possums are also quite partial to leaves,

and 30 million possums are quite capable

of stripping an enormous area.

In addition comes this.

Without being noticed, wasps have reached land

via the military planes.

Now they are reproducing rapidly.

And now it is they who are milking the mealybugs'

sweet secretions.

Millions of them swarm to
the seas of sugar droplets.

Their menacing buzzing dominates the forest.

They are so greedy and agressive

that there is nothing left for others.

No more honeydew for the kakas,

less forest, and introduced predators.

They've lost out three times at the same time.

As a first emergency measure, sugar dispensers.

They quickly learn how to use them

and the syrupy liquid seems to be in demand.

However, it's not a permanent solution.

The future looks bleak for the kakas.

They miss the forests that they knew

before the humans came.

And this is exactly what a
new initiative is all about.

The plane is flying to a protected jungle area,

free from imported animals, or should be.

The biologist Iris Rockimer, has the job

to monitor the project.

She can only get to it from the water.

Every other way is blocked.

By a meter high, formidable fence.

Nothing gets past.

No possums, no martens, no rats.

And behind the fence, New Zealand as it once was,

pure wilderness.

But how can she check that someone

hasn't perhaps slipped by?

Iris uses an extremely simple,

but tried and tested method.

A finger of peanut butter on a black color field,

and then into the tube casing.

All the rest happens on its own,

without electronic devices.

Whatever approaches the peanut butter

gets blackened paws and thus leaves a trail,

simple as that.

This tube for example, she
prepared on her last visit

and someone was in there.

The tracks of a weta, a long-horned grasshopper.

As with so many species in New Zealand,

it originates from ancient times.

It's one of the largest insects ever,

measuring nearly 10 centimeters long.

A perfectly ideal world behind the fence.

The birds are moving here, where they are safe

from predators.

Native cormorants come here to breed.

When the young are big enough to fly,

they move on again.

A small patch of New Zealand
as if the last 1,000 years

had never existed.

The forest parrots exercise on the branches

and lap up the pollen and the nectar

as they did in the past.

There are no enemies, no wasps,

and absolutely no lumberjacks.

A small oasis of recompense.

Back to the mountains and Martin and his traps.

Fighting kea-killers with chicken eggs.

It sounds a bit primitive, but it seems to work.

One marten less.

It's a lovely looking animal,
but without such measures,

the keas in the long run have no chance,

despite their intelligence and
their aptitude for learning.

And then another trap's sabotaged.

Again the trap's been sprung, but nothing inside.

However, this trap was under surveillance.

And when Martin returns to his shack,

he sits straight down to have a look.

Who is the culprit?

No question about it.

It's a kea.

An old and experienced kea,

who sets about his business.

Unbelievable.

Now he's trying to cut down a twig

to the right size with his beak.

Determined and persistent.

Until it works.

Then, he pushes the twig into the small entrance

of the trap.

Martin is amazed at his persistence.

He fumbles and pokes tirelessly.

Until...

He triggers it off.

And thus, with a bit of luck

he manages to get a little egg white,

the first proof that wild keas have the ability

to create tools and to use them.

Even if this amazing feat of intelligence

is not very clever for the long-term.

For the younger keas such a virtuoso performance

might be a bit too much.

Like children, they still have a lot to learn.

However, the impetus for such acts

is their near-insatiable curiosity.

A trap for martens is naturally

something to pique their interest.

Somehow fascinating.

What could one do with that?

And what about this metal grate?

It looks like something is going through its head.

Somehow the trick with the stick

seems to be in the blood.

But only as a game.

They chew off the bark and throw it all around.

But such games could develop into the same

specific application as a tool.

The kea is one of the most intelligent birds,

but of course who knew that better than Corey?

Persisting in building their
breeding hollows underground,

they're simply following an
instinct from time immemorial.

But in Corey's opinion, even that could change.

He believes that he's discovered a sensation,

a kea mother that decided instead
to breed in a tree hollow.

Of that, he's sure.

She incited her new offspring on their first outing

to flap clumsily from one branch to the next

instead of walking on the ground.

Two months previously, Corey made a video

of this unusual nursery.

He can hardly believe it himself.

Such a quantum leap from a nest underground

to a much safer tree hollow.

Who knows?

Perhaps these highly intelligent keas

are just about to write a
piece of evolutionary history

and defy their ancestral breeding habits.

One could believe them quite capable of it.

New Zealand is a world unto itself,

a small planet in the Pacific.

Hot springs,

majestic mountains,

water and green in abundance.

All this was the stage for the unique ascendancy

of a bird, unless the humans
should put an end to it.

Thus today the fight is set to save the parrots

and other bird species from that type.

A hopeless fight it is not.