Original subtitles

Chiseled from the land by the power

of the ice age.

Bringing seawater deeper

than the surrounding mountains are tall.

Drawing the mysterious creatures

of the dark ocean far inland.

Fjords are one of the most dramatic landscapes on Earth.

But for all their beauty and majesty,

the surface spectacle is just the tip

of the iceberg.

Fjords stand witness to some of the great natural wonders

of the world.

(dramatic music)

A legacy from the ice age, fjords remain in some

of the colder parts of the world.

Here, winters are harsh.

This is wildlife, red in tooth and claw.

A wild place where only the toughest survive.

A deer failed to weather the storm.

It's loss is a gain to many scavengers

that descend from the skies.

Crows squabble over the remains.

The flock parts when bigger diners arrive.

The majestic sea eagles are capable hunters,

but in these bleak conditions make the most

of the easy meal.

Displaced crows clean their beaks.

Yet to develop the pale head of its parents,

a young sea eagle has a particularly fiery temper,

it has little tolerance for the crow's antics.

(birds squawking)

And the menace is added to the menu.

Their backdrop itself is full of drama.

During the ice age vast glaciers,

three kilometers deep sliced

their way through the tough rock,

gouging out long channels.

As the ice retreated seawater moved in.

Like inland seas, fjords can be vast,

350 kilometers long and nearly 2,000 meters deep.

But thanks to the gulf stream

and their own microclimate the fjords

of Norway are less cold than the sea,

providing for wildlife year round.

As winter descends it becomes a stage

for one of nature's most dramatic spectacles.

An insidious looking cloud seeps into the fjord,

spreading darkness across the sea floor.

Herring, a shimmering mass of some 10 billion fish.

They're here for sanctuary.

When glaciers carved the fjords they carried sand

and gravel from the mountains

and deposited them in the mouths of the fjords.

They act like a natural harbor wall,

sheltering the waters within.

For some respite from the fierce winter seas

the herring stop off on their migration north.

They don't feed, just rest,

conserving their energy until the spring

and their challenging journeys north.

Such a huge aggregation of fish

of course attracts fishermen.

Killer whales.

The biggest members of the dolphin family,

the killers share the same intelligence

and close social bonds.

They have the brains and the brawn

to attack as a pack.

The herring have a strategy of their own.

They shoal tightly near the seafloor,

the equivalent of keeping their backs against the wall.

The pod takes its time.

Assessing the slowly moving shoal,

the fish bunch tighter

but they're playing into the whale's trap.

They communicate with clicks and whistles.

Their aim, to drive the herring close to the surface

and as close together as possible.

Then the trap is sprung.

(intense music)

The whales ride sidesaddle up on the shoal.

And slap it with their tails.

The shockwaves from the powerful flukes are so strong

that they stun dozens of herring.

And the whales can dine at their leisure.

The groups are matriarchal, in other words,

they stay with their mothers and grandmothers for life,

learning from the wisdom of the older females.

As the well fed whales move on they leave a wake

of destruction.

A shower of herring leftovers rains down on the seabed.

But in nature nothing goes to waste.

Any that float are sitting ducks to keen eyed gulls.

Cod and pollock are quick to join the feast from below.

The corpses that make it to the seabed leech fish oils

that draw in other scavengers,

from the deep.

Starfish have basic eyes at the ends of each leg,

but it's the tiny suction cup feet

that can taste the fish and guide the body.

Then the starfish pushes some

of its stomach inside out to secrete digestive acids.

Making the tough bodied herring easy to consume.

Nothing goes to waste here,

tiny particles and oil leached form the bodies rain down

into the deeper parts of the fjord.

A dinner gong in the darkness.

Brittle stars swing in on tentacle like legs,

with no eyes they rely on chemical receptors in their skin

to guide their way.

A lantern shark emerges from the dark.

A mysterious deep sea species

that can emit a gentle glow

that probably helps match any faint light

from the surface, erasing their shadows.

They are invisible to predators below.

Sea urchins hoover the mud,

surrounded by sea pens that filter bits drifting

from the current.

Their fragile bodies are protected by narcotics

and each polyp on their arms contain tiny stinging cells

to harpoon prey.

Each pen looks like a single organism

but in fact it's a colony of anemone like creatures

living as one.

The founding member becomes a bulb like anchor

to hold the colony in place.

Their world is a dark one.

Though under blue light, the sea pens glow.

Most parts of the light spectrum are absorbed by water.

The only color, blue, barely penetrates the depths.

But it's enough to trigger protein activity

that glows green.

The pens use this to their advantage.

If they sense an approaching predator

they put on a light show.

The sea pens body's are full of water,

and by ejecting it they can resort

to plan B and disappear.

There are plenty of predators down here.

A starry smooth-hound patrols the darkness.

At nearly one and a half meters in length it's a real threat

to its favorite food,

crabs and lobsters that are bound on the muddy seafloor.

The Norwegian lobsters, or langoustine,

seem more concerned about each other

than the predators of the deep.

Better to stick close

to their burrows when six-gilled sharks cruise through.

The sluggish colossus is more than twice the size

of the smooth-hound.

It will eat pretty much anything it can find,

even other sharks.

So the smooth-hound better watch out.

The calmness of the seabed is quite stable year round,

even the most fragile

of creatures can find sanctuary here.

Helmet jellyfish usually stay deep,

up to 7,000 meters below sea level.

They only venture into shallow water at night when

they can escape the light of day.

The pigment that gives them the red glow

reacts with sunlight with lethal effects.

So the jellies must remain creatures of the shadows.

But they have freedom to roam the fjords during winter,

because unlike the open ocean the sheltered waters

of the fjords will freeze.

The thin layers of ice filtering out some

of the harmful rays.

The ice begins forming around the coast

and gradually spreads across the open water.

Even the ice lockdown isn't enough

to slow the forces of the ocean and moon.

Every day thousands of tons of ice are lifted

and lowered by the movement of the tides.

Because of their ice age history,

fjords are located in cooler regions

where the vast ice sheets once formed.

Spring here comes slowly.

But life must go on, so despite the sleet

an eider duck diligently sits on her eggs.

The nest of eider down beneath

her will help hold the heat.

But the temperature will eventually climb,

and activity levels increase.

Underwater as well.

There's not much plant life on the silty seabed

but it's ideal for molluscs.

Clams and muscles can dig themselves into the sediment,

with just a visible tube

to filter their food from the water.

But their presence doesn't go unnoticed by brown crabs.

Their cumbersome pincers are not only good for defense,

but as earth movers,

shifting the sand seeking buried treasure.

The crabs transform the flat moonscape

into a series of trenches and ridges in their search.

Their every move is being monitored.

Bingo, a scallop.

A reward well worth the effort.

Digging tools become butcher's knives.

Breaking into the tough shell

and tearing away chunks of flesh.

But they're not the neatest tools,

fragments of flesh drift away,

creating a scent trail for others to follow.

The wrestlers are too busy fight for scraps

to notice the dab.

His time has finally come.

The open water created by retreating ice is a relief

to harbor porpoises.

The shy marine mammals come and go

from the fjords in their never ending search for food.

(porpoise clicking)

They're one of the smallest marine mammals,

small bodies lose more heat to their environment.

And in these cold waters the porpoises can't afford to rest.

Fortunately summer is on its way.

A time of abundance for the creatures of the fjords.

Snow and ice melt, fueling dramatic waterfalls.

(upbeat music)

The rushing water carries minerals

and nutrients from the hills to the fjords below.

The strong sunlight seems to serenade new arrivals.

The eider duck's cold vigil has come to and end.

She and others like her guide their ducklings

to the water.

(ducklings chirping)

Like all ducklings they are able to walk, swim,

and feed themselves from the moment of hatching.

One thing they are not good at is self defense.

So the mothers flock together,

merging their clutches into one big creche

that will be easier to protect.

There are predators everywhere.

Many of the ducklings will fall in

their first few weeks of life.

And one of the biggest culprits, gulls.

The elegant, opportunistic sea birds spend a lot

of their time scavenging.

But when the right sort of prey comes along

they can be effective predators.

The common gull thinks it's in for an easy meal,

the ducks work together.

Using powerful wings and crab crushing beaks.

One of the most powerful forces in nature,

a mother's protective instinct.

(dramatic music)

The gull's lucky, perhaps next time it will think twice.

While the eiders roughed it through the winter,

other birds waited for the weather

to improve before dropping in.

Knots and other wading birds arrive en masse.

They're not here to stay,

instead using the fjord like a highway motel.

They want a safe place to get a good meal and rest.

Some have been in the air for days, they're exhausted.

Feeling safe in the center of a crowd, sleep comes easy.

The purpose of migration is to follow the sun,

moving further north where daylight lasts longer.

The more light, the more productivity,

which for the birds means more food.

For most of these migrants the journey has barely begun.

They want to get inside the arctic circle for the summer,

but to complete their travel plans they need to refuel.

And when the tide goes out, the birds move in.

Pores on their delicate beaks can feel the movements

of prey in the soft sand.

Worms, molluscs, and little crustaceans are welcome snacks.

Helping the birds calorie load before

they resume their flight.

When the tide returns any undetected invertebrates emerge,

protected by the deeper water.

Each changing tide washes debris on and off the beach,

creating a smorgasbord for grazers and scavengers.

Today the tide reveals both treasure and tragedy.

A dead porpoise.

Every life must end,

and in the fjords nothing goes to waste.

But the death of this porpoise was premature.

As the sun sets, the cause of the casualty is revealed.

Both fishermen and porpoises are after the same prey.

Sometimes the porpoises accidentally stray into the nets.

Other times they're drawn in by the fishermen's catch.

The concentration of fish is too much

for the porpoises to ignore.

But the nets are indiscriminate.

Every year, 10,000 porpoises are drowned by fishing gear

on the fjord lined coast of Norway alone.

It's a drop in the ocean in terms

of the global toll on porpoises

and other marine life.

By the time the fishing fleets return to harbor,

the tide will carry the evidence

of it's innocent victim to the seabed.

But now the porpoise as new purpose,

it's transferring nutrients

from the productive surface waters

to the food starved depths.

Hagfish, sometimes dubbed slime eels lie in wait

on the sea floor, sometimes going

for months without food.

They are the garbage disposal team.

Their four whiskers sense the meal,

and keratinous teeth will bore into its flesh.

Hagfish don't have bones,

fossils show that they haven't changed in 300 million years.

And yet these vital and mysterious creatures are,

like the porpoise, threatened with extinction thanks

to indiscriminate fishing.

Much of the marine life at depth

is being damaged by human activities

before it's even been documented by science.

The creatures of this cold,

dark world are as mysterious as they are weird.

Sea slugs, aliens on earth are marine snails

that have lost their shells

and replaced them with glowing, toxic tentacles.

Sliding their way over the seafloor the slugs

feed on other creatures like sponges, barnacles,

and jellyfish.

And if they eat something toxic

they're not just immune to the deadly cocktails,

they actually use them, moving them into their color frills

to help deter predators.

Perhaps that's why they glow,

an early warning system.

The soft bodied slugs import their protection.

But other denizens are wearing it.

Creeping like a giant arachnid the spider crab

lives up to its name.

Its monstrous appearance,

enhanced by algae it attaches

to its body for camouflage.

Though it has cousins with five meter leg spans,

the long legged spider crab is diminutive.

It's another seabed scavenger,

and stumbles on some fish remains.

But stirring up food releases tempting smells

into the water, drawing a competitor.

They appear to dance arm in arm.

But it's more fight club than dance off.

Every scrap's worth fighting for.

Fish such as the colorful wrasse

dance around an equally colorful backdrop of anemones.

Good real estate is in short supply,

any rock ledge becomes a home for the weird,

colorful, and wondrous.

The greater the depths, the stranger creatures seem to be.

Chimera are ancient animals

that broke away from the ancestors

of sharks and rays some 400 million years ago.

Their eerie green eyes help

them locate prey in the darkness.

They stay close to the seabed,

and can thrive at several hundred meters

beneath the surface.

They can reach two meters in length,

but are still armed with venomous spines

in case something bigger comes along.

The cool dark waters

of fjords can harbor some real monsters.

Here in the North Pacific it's a kraken, a giant octopus,

the biggest of its kind.

The giant can be six meters from tentacle tip

to tentacle tip.

The wolf eel is another Pacific monster.

But despite its appearance, it's quite docile.

The huge predators rarely attack each other,

but they do share a desire

for nice deep, safe hiding places.

The octopus is in the market for an new home,

but today the eel isn't budging.

The giant continues her search.

During the night she finds what she's been looking for.

In this rocky fortress she creates a nursery,

stringing up thousands of eggs from the ceiling.

There might be 400,000 by the time she's done.

The monster mollusc is a devoted mother.

For six months she will guard them,

constantly using her siphon to blow fresh,

oxygen rich water over them.

And using her coiled tentacles

to gently clean algae from the surface of the eggs.

Her body acts as a shield

to the many dangers lurking outside.

While she's on duty she won't eat,

and when the job is done

and her babies are ready to begin

to their independent lives hers will end.

Many species come to the fjords to breed.

Temminck's stints sing while hovering

to show off their strength and stamina.

Hoping to attract a mate.

(birds chirping)

Ruffs have a different approach to battle,

when they first arrive they binge on invertebrates

along the shores of the fjords.

Once they're on top form they strut.

(energetic music)

Fanning out long feathers on their necks,

giving each warrior a spectacular shield.

They pose, hoping to catch a female's eye.

But when they do, it fuels a feud.

Sword like beaks and neck shields ready

they stand to fight.

The male that puts on the best show is more likely

to win the affections of a fair maiden.

It's not just birds who migrate,

gray whales move through the fjords of the North Pacific.

They're making their way from Mexico

to summer feedings grounds off Alaska.

Many of the females are guiding calves through

their first migration.

The epic round trip voyages can be more

than 20,000 kilometers long.

Their passing attracts the attention

of killer whales.

These are not herring eaters,

they are a different race of orca,

intent on mammalian flesh.

Like wolves they hunt as a pack,

chasing down the whales to wear them out.

(dramatic music)

As they close in they try

to separate a calf from its mother.

Each time the little one tries

to surface the orcas block it with their bodies,

stopping it from catching a breath.

The mother fights bravely,

trying to keep between her baby and the killers.

But the whales are exhausted,

and the pack strong and determined.

(waterfall roaring)

(mellow music)

The abundance of summer also draws back bears

to beach comb Pacific fjords, looking for crabs.

This one's timing is perfect.

Under every rock there are dozens of baby crabs.

The bear doesn't wipe them all out,

it clumsily licks up a few while the rest scamper away

to new hiding places.

The inefficient dining will at least

ensure the bear's larder stays well stocked

for the future.

Fjords are giant bodies of water,

and during the summer that water holds heat,

maintaining a mild climate on the surrounding slopes.

Lichens and mosses thrive.

It's a microclimate, an oasis in the otherwise cold

and challenging far north.

In some of the cold nooks,

the last evidence of the ice age lingers.

Glaciers, now very much reduced in size are a reminder

of the giants that once carved out the fjords.

Protected by mountain shadows,

they still recede a little every year.

Waterfalls are a major source of input to the fjords,

and can carry nutrients in.

But they're not the only fresh water entering the system,

in northern latitudes heavy rainfall occurs year round.

And for marine life, brings another challenge.

The falling fresh water changes the salinity of the sea.

Delicate sea jellies depend on a constant salinity

to protect their water filled bodies.

So they propel themselves

to deeper water using microscopic hairs

that dazzle with all the colors of the rainbow.

(mellow music)

The influx of fresh water creates a wave

of departing marine life.

Starfish and sea urchins run on their tube feet.

But while some marine species head for the deep,

others seem to embrace the challenge.

Salmon and sea trout start off life in freshwater,

and after years at sea they must return to breed.

As the powerful fish congregate they attract predators.

The fjord seals have a field day.

The only way to escape is up.

The fish must face freshwater head on,

on their march inland.

(intense music)

The churning rapids fill the water with oxygen,

helping the fish to perform at their best.

It takes many attempts to climb the falls.

But the fish are tenacious.

There's calm behind the falls,

a brief respite for the exhausted fish.

But it's not over yet.

The fish spawn, the males fight

for the best spot next to a female as

she lays her eggs.

The male releases a cloud of sperm

and the fertilized eggs drop down into safe crevasses

in the gravel.

It should be a rich reward

and a fitting end to their epic journey,

but instead worn out from the arduous voyage

and damaged by the freshwater entering their bodies,

the adult fish literally fall apart.

The death of the adult fish in the hundreds

provides fertilizer for the rivers

that will support their young.

But also as it washes downstream for all life in the fjords.

The long days of summer can't last forever.

Slowly, color slips from the landscape.

Trees drop their leaves, shutting up shop for the winter.

Now the leaves have new purpose,

they provide food to the creatures of the fjord.

Starting at the bottom of the food chain,

shrimps and the tiny see through larvae of crabs

and lobsters can feast.

The next generation of crustaceans getting a helping hand.

And with them, worm like blobs

of jelly with tiny yellow stars.

They've been drifting for weeks

and eating whatever they can find.

But as soon as they have grown enough they drop

to the seafloor.

The jelly drops away, leaving a perfect baby starfish.

(whimsical music)

The underwater leaf litter is fertilizer

to all creatures of the fjords.

Whether they feed on it directly,

or on the species that do.

As the falling leaves are replaced

by the first drifting snowflakes the fjord's wildlife

prepares for winter.

(mellow music)

The cooling temperatures hail the return

of the herring.

But this time they haven't come alone,

they're being shadowed by giants.

Humpback whales make a detour on their journey south

to visit the Norwegian fjords to binge on the bounty.

(whales chirping)

The whales themselves have attracted attention.

(whales chirping)

But this time the killer whales aren't after their flesh,

they cooperate, working together

to condense the swirling masses,

making them easier to harvest.

This way they can both benefit from the incredible bounty

of the fjords.

(mellow music)