Original subtitles

The South Pacific islands of New Zealand.

They're wild, remote, and a metropolis

for the planet's most iconic waterbirds,

penguins.

Nearly half the world's 18 penguin species

live or breed here,

the land where their ancestors first appeared

55 million years ago.

Over time, human presence and a range of predators

have caused huge declines in their populations.

While the birds cope as cleverly as they can,

these are the stories of their most tenacious survivors.

(dramatic percussion music)

Penguins are seabirds that don't fly,

though their ancestors once could.

Today, they're at home on land or sea

where they come to feed.

And it's here that they face some

of their biggest natural threats,

predators like marine mammals, or large seagulls.

But one penguin species refuses to be victimized.

From here, the rippling water looks like a sea monster

on patrol.

But it's a cluster of penguins closing in on the shoreline.

A cloak of darkness is its preferred line of defense

against ambush.

These night owls are the world's tiniest,

and aptly named, little penguins.

They're less than a foot long and weigh only two pounds.

But make no mistake, in the penguin world,

they've got swagger.

Their posture is unique, tilted instead of upright

as if they're permanently leaning into the wind.

Armies of 50 or more nearly identical birds

storm the beaches of New Zealand's

three main islands nightly.

Then, march inland in precise formation.

These little guys are true survivors,

nearly a million strong in New Zealand and Australia

where they're also known as fairy penguins.

The beach is where they're most vulnerable,

but they've got that covered.

Little penguins know there are safety in numbers.

And their night moves mean fewer encounters

with hungry predators.

In water, these birds are expert swimmers

on their own chase for prey, like squid, small fish,

and crustaceans.

But their forward sloping bodies make simple rock hopping

an almost unnatural challenge.

On land, moving stealthily through the dark,

is their most sensible tactic for reaching their nest alive.

Their night parade, viewed at warp speed

is a rare spectacle.

(whimsical music)

With the obstacle course now behind them,

it's a race uphill to their nests.

Oops, no straggling.

Keeping a low profile is key,

leading to some creative choices in real estate.

Traditional nests are hidden in rock crevices

or underground burrows.

And in more urban settings, under buildings

or stacks of timber.

Little penguins lay a clutch of two eggs.

Hatchlings are fed and guarded by both parents.

They grow and fledge quickly.

At eight weeks, they're independent.

Under their parents' roof, the chicks aren't shy

about begging for food.

In years of plenty, many nesting pairs can raise

two clutches to adulthood.

This high fertility rate is another reason

for the species' success.

All too soon, it will be dawn.

The Cinderella hour for little penguins.

Once again, it's time for the group to sneak back

to the shoreline before anyone notices them.

Among the parents, there's always an early bird.

But soon, they'll all head out to hunt for food.

By sunrise, they'll have vanished the way they appeared.

Little penguins are small but deceptively mighty.

Together, they outwit aggressors and defy the pressures

of development with smart survival skills.

In some areas, their numbers are even on the rise.

Without a doubt they're New Zealand's penguin success story.

(optimistic music)

Few penguins today are faring quite as well

as the little penguin,

but no species has been as hard hit in recent decades

as the bird's that's, in every way, its opposite.

This lone penguin lands defiantly on the beach

in broad daylight.

It's a large, two foot tall bird more than double the size

of the little penguin and five times its weight,

over 10 pounds.

It's a yellow-eyed penguin,

named for its distinctive yellow iris and striped head band.

It's the least social of all penguins,

and also one of the world's rarest.

This solitary bird found on the coast of islands

across New Zealand is endangered.

Only some 2,000 breeding pairs remain in the world.

The reason, human interference.

From habitat destruction to overfishing, and ecotourism.

Many of the forests adjacent to coastlines,

where the yellow-eyed penguin used to raise their young

have been cleared for farms or pastureland.

Secluded shrub land and forests

once provided better security for their nests.

Today, only sparse vegetation remains on the coastline

where they live year-round,

always out of sight of their nearest yellow-eyed neighbor.

Not nearly enough cover for a species

with conflicting needs,

privacy and easy access to opal fish and cod just offshore.

For the first six weeks of their lives,

the parents take turns guarding the chicks

and foraging for food.

(chirping)

In ideal conditions, these penguins can live 20 years

or longer.

But humans have put other huge obstacles in their path,

non-native mammal predators are among the worst.

Pet dogs, wild cats, and weasels all take a heavy toll

on the penguins.

The simple stress of a dog attack can be lethal

to otherwise unharmed chicks.

Is all hope lost for these fierce loners?

The good news is, they've got friends.

Conservation efforts have begun to stabilize some colonies.

For the yellow-eye, it's far from a penguin paradise.

But no matter how it looks, they're not entirely alone.

The Southern Alps rise on the other side of South Island.

Surrounded by cliffs and narrow inlets,

carved ages ago by retreating glaciers.

This is Fiordland, the rugged terrain where some

of New Zealand's most adventurous mainland penguins breed.

It's August, the middle of winter

in the Southern Hemisphere.

Icy seas pound the coastline,

defying one surfer's attempts to land.

He waits to catch the perfect wave to the shore.

His style is lacking in finesse,

but like any good athlete he's not a quitter.

And after a final thrashing, the fiordland penguin

sticks its landing.

Fiordland penguins spend the summer and fall

in the Antarctic Ocean.

Then, come ashore in winter to raise their young.

These laid-back looking birds stand almost two feet tall.

Their most distinctive feature is their yellow crest,

which males flaunt to show their status,

and attract potential mates.

The more erect the crest, the higher the social standing

appears to be.

There's no time to hang out, these are men on a mission.

Somehow, they're going to attempt

what looks like the impossible for a seabird,

making it up a 300 foot cliff side to the nests

where their mates are waiting.

Very few of the world's penguins would consider

raising their young in forests so high above the sea.

No sweat for the fiordland penguins.

They're borne by athletes.

Early in winter, the fiordland penguins built their nests

and laid their eggs.

They should be hatching any time now.

The males are on their way to feed the hatchlings.

It'll take them more than three grueling hours

to reach the top.

And if they hurry, they may get there in time

to see their eggs hatch.

These birds are the ultimate parkour traceurs

of the penguin world.

Skilled at hopping, running and obstacle jumping.

At least most of the time.

Even so, it's no cakewalk.

The males are returning from two weeks at sea.

They were feeding on squid, krill and small fish

they've stored to feed their newborns after they hatch.

The terrain changes as they climb higher.

And as the males enter the rain forest,

they face yet another challenging obstacle course

that slows their progress.

But where there's a will, there's a way.

The penguins are now about halfway up the cliff.

They've been climbing for more than an hour now.

The rocks the birds used as stepping stones

are covered with scratches.

These marks suggest that many generations

of fiordland penguins have walked this remote path

to their breeding grounds.

An enduring sign of their determination to survive.

But this expedition is about to take an unusual turn,

something that might surprise

the fiordland penguins ancestors.

In the wake of any downpours, the rivers in these forests

rise and swell.

Strangely, one of the returning males decides

to take the plunge.

With their flipper wings and waterproof coats

of dense feathers, penguins are expert ocean swimmers.

But freshwater, this is behavior rarely witnessed

in the penguin world.

Not to be outdone, the other males follow.

Experts are at a loss to explain what these penguins

were up to.

But for now, they've gotten their land legs back.

And this shortcut upstream has saved them time and energy.

Every minute counts when you're about to have a full nest.

At the top of the cliff, lush forests offer ideal protection

for fiordland penguin nests.

Camouflage is a critical survival skill.

The fiordlands build their nests in rock crevices

or tree cavities.

It's the perfect shelter from the wind, rain storms,

and predators.

Inside the nest, a female patiently incubates

her clutch of eggs.

There are two, one in front and one behind.

This was the male's job for the first two weeks.

The mother took over once her mate left to go fishing.

With the nest in sight, it's just one final sprint

to the finish line.

And the long, uphill trek is over.

Homecoming is celebrated with cries that echo

through the forest.

Outside of the breeding season the pair lives independently.

But fiordland penguins are monogamous,

reuniting each year at the same beach.

And frequently, mate for life.

It's clear from the female's behavior

that there's some movement in the nest.

With the first crack in the egg, hatching is imminent.

In fact, the chicks are already chirping as they chip away

at their shells.

After a while, the male slips away from the nest.

Where could he possibly be off to so soon?

A while later, he returns with some twigs.

Turns out, it's never too early for home repair.

Heavy downpours are common in the forest,

so nests can get soaked with rainwater.

The pair work steadily to raise the height of the nest,

reinforcing it to keep it as dry and secure as possible.

Now that's good teamwork.

The new day has brought new life to the rain forest.

Two fiordland penguin chicks.

Amazingly, both hatchlings have survived,

something uncommon among the species.

Now, it's the father's job to feed them.

He does so by regurgitating the partially digested fish

he'd caught at sea directly into their mouths.

The male will take on parenting duties

for the next three weeks as he broods them,

while going without food himself.

During this period, he'll lose 30 percent

of his body weight.

Now that the chicks have hatched, the female is free

to head down to the seashore to feed herself

and gather supplies for the newborns.

After two weeks of sitting on the nest alone,

she's probably ravenous.

But with short legs and a low center of gravity,

it's hard to move like an athlete down the steep slope.

A gentle waterfall, en route, looks like an oasis.

How could any self-respecting waterbird resist?

With her newborns under her mate's wing,

a bath must feel like a well-deserve indulgence.

Life is good.

Despite their skills on land, fiordland penguins are truly

in their element down here on the open seas.

And by now, these females can almost taste the seafood.

Ready, set, go for it.

The ancestors of these seabirds evolved

into powerful swimmers and divers

to access a wider food supply.

Streamlined for speed and propelled by powerful wings,

they're as graceful as dolphins.

This is a spot where a cold, nutrient-rich ocean current

converges with a warm one.

The combination results in a plankton bloom,

attracting vast schools of fish to a feeding frenzy.

It's just what the penguins are counting on.

Penguins are said to veer when they catch prey.

But it's hard to tell what the fiordland females

are chasing today.

(curious music)

These are their targets, tiny transparent fry.

Only a few inches long and practically invisible.

The females fly through the sea, veering right and left,

eating their fill and more.

After all, they have newborns to feed.

A swarm of greedy seabirds notices the hunting penguins

and swoops in to take advantage of the situation.

They're after the fry that have escaped to the surface.

The birds can fly and dive, but not as well or as deeply

as the fiordland females.

But thanks to the penguins, these are easy pickings.

After a successful morning at sea, a female hikes back up

to the nest with her catch.

Everyday, she'll trek back and forth to the coast,

carrying more food to her young.

She relieves the male of babysitting duties for now.

The chicks are famished, despite constant feeding.

One even begs his mother for a second helping.

Though it's unusual at this stage of growth,

both fiordland chicks seem to be doing very well

in their parents' care.

All too soon, the nest comes face to face

with the inevitable.

When two chicks hatch,

ultimately there's going to be trouble.

A sudden fall changes everything.

The chick struggles desperately, but it's too young to walk.

It's hard to imagine why such an attentive parent

would ignore the cries of its offspring.

But the adult fails to act.

The chick is on its own.

The more it tries to move,

the more desperate its plight becomes.

(somber music)

10 minutes pass.

The chick can't maintain its body temperature

outside the nest and it's too late now for assistance.

There's only one possible outcome.

Why one chick was left to perish is puzzling.

But an incident in a neighboring nest begins to shed light

on the issue.

It's feeding time and it's obvious that one chick

already towers over the other.

While the larger chick greedily blocks its sibling,

the parent rewards it with all of the food.

It probably hatched first, already giving it a nutritional

and size advantage in the competition for food.

It's not long until the penguin siblings become rivals.

And the parents favor the stronger of the two.

Fiordland penguins are known as obligate brood reducers.

They lay two eggs but never intend to rear

more than one chick to adulthood.

The smaller is always doomed from the start.

The practice may be linked to the effort it takes

to fledge both siblings.

The marathon food hauls from ocean to colony.

And the two eggs, a cruel insurance policy

in case one hatchling fails to survive.

It's now mid-October in the fiordland penguin colony.

The chicks are two months old.

They venture boldly out of their nests,

but are not yet independent.

They've begun to lose their fluffy down,

and are almost as large as their parents.

But the innocent look in their eyes,

shows that these youngsters aren't yet ready for life

in the outside world.

The parents return from yet another trip to the sea.

By now, the chicks know exactly to expect.

They beg noisily for the next banquet.

Perhaps a little lesson in table manners

to set things straight before the meal begins.

The dutiful parent won't let its chick go hungry for long.

Though the relentless pleading would be enough

to grate on any parent's nerves.

In fact, there seems to be a general shift

in the parents' behavior here,

regarding their youngster's demands.

No matter how long and hard a chick pesters an adult,

it's now met with a blank stare.

Or ignored altogether.

Sometimes, a parent has no choice but to walk away.

Meanwhile, the chick is left to contemplate

this strange turn of events

until it simply gives up and follows.

Call it tough love.

But this is how fiordland penguins teach their young

to practice walking.

And it seems to be working.

They've traveled about 15 feet from the nest,

and someone's built a little more confidence,

earning some encouraging praise.

The parents gradually increase the distance

of these practice walks,

allowing the chicks to build stamina and muscle tone

for the long treks ahead.

There's something else that changes in the parent's routine

around this time.

Both the mother and father now head out to sea together.

As the colony works to satisfy the appetites

of its rapidly growing brood,

it's begun to feel like rush hour.

A moment of hesitation can cause a traffic jam.

And then, it's stop and go.

The penguin in the lead feels pressured to descend

at high speed.

But without sufficient control, this can lead

to some nasty collisions.

Soon, the parents' race will end.

Their chicks will leave the nest,

and the adults will scatter to the seas across New Zealand.

It's November, and the fiordland penguin chicks

are two and a half months old.

The fluffy down is gone.

And they no longer look like babies.

The eyebrow-like yellow crest that mark them as fiordlands

have begun to appear.

Their gait is a bit smoother.

And they're clearly practicing their rock climbing skills.

And they still look so vulnerable.

Are they really ready to make it on their own?

Soar through the sea like their graceful parents.

They've begun to flap their wings like the ocean athletes

they'll become.

It may not be long now until they fledge,

and head out into the world solo.

Only two days have passed when someone decides

to make his move.

A young penguin stands some 30 feet from its nest.

He's matured physically, but has he mastered the skills

to be fully on his own?

There's only one way to find out.

Without any previous experience in the wild,

he has nothing but instinct to guide him to the sea.

Fiordland penguins are known for their timidity.

So it's not surprise he may be having second thoughts.

Finally, he takes the leap, and cautiously sets off

down the slope.

But he soon discovers this journey may be harder

than it looked.

There are obstacles everywhere to trip you up

when you least expect it.

If this is how it's gonna be, maybe leaving the nest

isn't such a good idea after all.

He quickly gives up and walks home.

Meanwhile, these two youngsters

are heading out to sea together.

A high five to get things going, and they're off.

They begin the long descent undaunted by the steepness.

It's a game of follow the leader

until a sudden stop on the trail turns into a comical game

of leapfrog.

The youngsters are excellent traveling companions.

One, the fearless pioneer.

The other? His loyal sidekick.

Soon, they'll see the world, have adventures,

and at last, go fishing on their own.

And what a stunning first look at their future.

The penguins hardly know what to make of it.

But the sea is tempting and they waste no time

heading for the water line to check it out.

Nearby, one of the other early birds emerges from the brush.

On the long march down the hillside,

he's overcome all kinds of unfamiliar obstacles.

But there's one more hurdle before he can get his feet wet.

The kind that will ultimately help turn him

into the all-terrain athlete he's destined to become.

He leans in and goes for it.

A moment to find his balance, set up for the jump,

and he's down.

Now what?

Out of the blue, an adult appears.

It takes stock of the situation,

curious to see what will happen next.

Taking pity on the youngster, it decides to provide

a little guidance.

Perhaps grateful for a break after his long journey,

the young penguin follows closely behind.

This adult is not his parent,

just a fellow fiordland penguin doing a good deed.

But down here, the surf packs a punch,

delivering its own lesson in survival.

Expect the unexpected.

All of a sudden, the young penguin is on his own

and perhaps out of his depth.

But this saltwater baptism doesn't faze him,

without any swimming experience,

he's already getting the hang of it.

One by one, the youngsters reach the water's edge.

But if there's any hesitation about taking the plunge,

there won't be for long.

The sea is a tough teacher, and propelling himself

through the waves doesn't come as naturally to this bird.

Through trial and error, his skills will improve.

And life at sea will be the world he knows best.

For all young penguins, including the fiordlands,

out here is where their real life challenges will begin.

Only those that can master survival in the open seas

will return here two or three years from now as adults,

when they'll climb to the forest to raise their own young.

The New Zealand shores are penguins' ancestral home.

The place where thousands return each year,

defying all threats to their survival.

They succeeded by traveling together in the dark of night.

Persevering in the face of dangers

caused by their human neighbors.

And making perilous long-distance journeys

to raise their young.

After millions of years here, they will not be stopped.

Instinct tells them to return, so that future generations

may someday join the parade.

(majestic music)