All language subtitles for Tales From Zambia Series 1 7of7 The Wild Web 1080p

NARRATOR:
\hIn an African wilderness,

giants roam

and killers prowl.

But behind these superstars

is a cast of characters
that is often overlooked.

These unsung heroes keep
the whole show on the road.

They fertilize the earth,

pollinate the plants,

and keep the place clean.

No one creature survives here
in isolation.

An intricate network of plants
and animals connects,

in one of the world’s
most remarkable ecosystems.

In Zambia,
in the heart of
tropical Africa,

lies the Luangwa Valley,

one of the most remote
areas of wilderness
on the continent.

Much of it is covered
in woodland.

Over 300 species of trees
thrive here.

For the valley’s
biggest mammal,

that’s a lot of food.

And they need it.

An adult African elephant

needs a daily intake of
70,000 calories to survive.

A five-tonne bull
munches through

600 pounds of vegetation
in 24 hours.

Elephants don’t ruminate.

Their food passes through
60 feet of intestines
in just 12 hours.

And they digest less than half
of what they eat.

The rest pops out as dung.

A lot of dung.

Over 300 pounds each day.

It’s an end product
for elephants,

but to many other animals,
it’s just the beginning.

For a bush squirrel,
a bolus of dung
is a box of delights.

Elephant dung
is mostly fibre

and contains
very few bacteria.

Rootling through it
is not as unpleasant
as it might seem.

Undigested seeds hidden inside
are a tasty treat.

Baboons too know the merits
of searching through
elephant dung.

Even less than fresh heaps
are worth a rummage.

There might be
a juicy insect inside.

But the real dung specialists
are beetles.

This male has sensed
a fresh dollop.

His sense of smell
is so good

he can find dung
just one minute
after its hit the ground.

There are more than
4,000 species of dung beetle
in Africa.

A hundred and fifty species
use only elephant dung.

He’s not going to
eat it straight away.

He’s taking this meal
to go.

He manipulates the dung with
specially adapted mouthparts.

And uses his strong front legs
to help him mould it

into a handy
transportable ball.

Meals on wheels.

He pushes it in reverse,
almost standing on his head.

Spurs on his back legs
help him grip the ball

and guide it
in a straight line.

Dung beetles are,
proportionally,
stronger than elephants.

they are among the strongest
animals on Earth.

The beetle can move
a dung ball 40 times
his own weight

over distances up to
75 yards.

That’s like you or me
single-handedly
pushing a car

across 25 football fields.

He’ll bury his dung ball
to feed on later or,

if he’s lucky, a female will
lay her eggs in it.

Dung beetles are nature’s
muck spreaders,

distributing
elephant fertilizer
across the savannah.

Seeds hidden in the dung
germinate

and nutrients go back
to the soil

to nourish the very trees
where it all began.

It’s not only elephants
and dung beetles

that play a role
in tree planting
in the Luangwa Valley.

Baboons spend two-thirds
of their day foraging

and will eat almost anything
they can get their hands on.

They’re messy eaters.

The fruits are full
of juicy pulp and seeds,

but the tough pod cases
can be hard to break into.

Baboons have the tools
for the job.

A male’s canine teeth can be
two inches long.

Natural nutcrackers.

Time to move on.

Baboons can travel up to
six miles a day
when searching for food,

which means any seeds
they’ve eaten

get carried far from
the parent tree.

And what goes in,
must come out.

Every time they answer
a call of nature,

they’re effectively
planting a seed.

Baboons often use
termite hills
as lookout posts.

Any deposited seeds
can germinate
on top of the mounds,

which is why you see
so many tamarind trees

growing out of
termite hills.

It’s a phenomenon that
goes back generations.

This tree is over
150 years old,

which means the termite mound
it’s growing on is even older.

Baboons have been unwittingly
planting tamarind trees

here in the Luangwa Valley
for centuries.

The roaming baboons meet
many of the valley’s residents
on their daily foraging trips.

And their presence
is often advantageous
for their neighbors.

A fruiting fig tree
is a magnet
for the hungry troop.

But the sweet-toothed
baboons

will only eat
the ripest fruits.

Sour figs are rejected
after one bite.

But just because
it’s discarded,

doesn’t mean
it’ll go to waste.

Elephants provide baboon food
in their dung,

but the troop
return the favor

when they drop
unripe fruit.

Another hungry animal
lurks in the leaf litter.

A corn cricket.

Any scraps overlooked
by the elephants
are a feast.

His massive mandibles
cut and crush through
any fruit or carrion he finds.

Sensory palps
are the equivalent
of our tongue,

tasting his food.

After a sticky meal,
it’s time to clean up.

His long antennae
help him detect food
in the undergrowth.

It’s important to keep them
in tip-top condition.

Other animals benefit
from the baboons’
messy eating habits.

Seasonal winterthorn pods
are a rare treat
for the river troop.

With the help
of the untidy baboons,

impala get to share spoils
that would usually be
out of reach in the branches.

It’s not altruism,
it’s a happy accident.

But it’s just one of the ways
impala benefit from
hanging out with baboons.

For a prey animal,
this valley
is a dangerous place.

Ambush predators
could be hiding anywhere.

Impala rely on their senses
to keep them alive.

Keen hearing and an acute
sense of smell

help them detect
hidden threats.

In this case,
the local leopard,
known as Kamuti.

And the impala
have recruited some help.

Baboons have
sharp eyesight,

and from their
treetop lookouts

often spot predators first.

(BARKING)

The river troop’s alarm calls
to each other become
public service announcements,

benefitting everyone
in earshot.

(BARKING CONTINUES)

There’s another primate here
who’s taken this communication
network to another level.

Vervet monkeys have
distinct calls for
different types of threat.

(CHITTERING)

This call means "leopard."

Other vervets immediately know
the danger’s likely to be
slinking through the grass

and bolt up a tree
to safety.

(CHITTERING)

A shorter,
more clipped call...

(TRUNCATED CHITTERING)

...denotes an eagle...

(TRUNCATED CHITTERING)

And warns the monkeys
to take cover.

They also have a call
for snake.

(CHITTERS)

It’s a simple language,

but if you’re a vervet,
it could save your life.

But the real sirens
of this valley are squirrels.

(CHATTERING)

They shout about anything
and everything.

Kamuti’s been spotted again.

(CHATTERING)

Squirrels are only
six inches long,

but they’re some of the
noisiest animals in the bush.

Their urgent alarm calls
can shift a sleeping leopard
from a tree

or blow the cover
of a mongoose
hunting for eggs.

Once they get going,
everything in the bush
is on edge,

and any predator
might as well give up.

Kamuti doesn’t stand
a chance of hunting now.

Herbivores are the key link
in a vital food chain

that converts energy
from plants into meat
for carnivores.

The energy originates
in the sun,

and in the tropical
Luangwa Valley,

12 hours of sunshine
every day

means plants have
plenty of time
for photosynthesis.

But to keep the cycle
going here,

plants need to reproduce.

Because they can’t move,

plants, like this
wild jasmine,

need a little help
to transfer pollen

from the male part
of the flower
to the female part.

Like the jasmine,
this acacia tree flowers
in the dry season.

Its little blossoms
attract pollinating insects
from far and wide.

But the most striking blooms
in the valley are the flowers
of the sausage tree.

They are the largest
in the African bush.

Huge stems,
two feet long,

each bearing a cluster
of four-inch blooms.

They’re irresistible
to bees.

(BUZZING)

Hidden inside
the velvet trumpets

are puddles of nectar,

up to a teaspoonful
in each one.

Every time a bee goes
to a different flower,

she carries a dusting
of all-important
pollen with her,

fertilizing the plants
she visits.

Bees can travel several
miles from home
looking for nectar,

but this one is lucky.

Her hive is in a hole
in the sausage tree’s trunk.

(BUZZING)

There can be tens of thousands
of bees in one colony,

mostly workers
who are all female.

They do all the chores
around the hive.

As well as
foraging for food,

they clean and guard
the nest hole.

A sausage tree home
has definite advantages,

but living here
does come with risks.

Bees have their nemeses.

Hidden among the stems
is a predator,

a praying mantis.

Its disguise is the perfect
adaptation to hunting in
vegetation such as this tree.

Its huge compound eyes

each contains 10,000
light receptors
called ommatidia.

Each of these
faces in a slightly
different direction,

giving the mantis
a very wide angle of view,

up to 245 degrees.

It’s almost like having eyes
in the back of your head.

Mantises are
ambush predators,

the leopards
of the insect world.

The bee has no idea
it’s there.

There’s no escaping
the mantis’ powerful grip.

It eats the bee alive.

Fat and happy predators,
small and large,

are a sign of a healthy
ecosystem.

The apex predators
in the Luangwa Valley
are lions.

They keep the populations
of prey species in check
and drive biodiversity.

Some animals here
benefit from these big cats
in surprising ways.

At first glance,
a lion and a butterfly
have nothing in common.

But their lives do connect.

The butterflies’ antennae
and legs are dotted
with scent receptors

that help them
locate food.

They’ve been drawn
to the pungent smell
of a lion kill.

(LION GROWLING)

Lions open the carcass
at the softest places,
often the belly.

The stomach is full
of partially digested grass,

perfect for a thirsty
butterfly.

They’ll feed on anything
that can provide minerals
and moisture.

A lepidopteran feast
laid on by lions.

Even nectar-loving bees
are partial

to a mouthful of salty
dung juice on a hot day.

The feeding insects
help clear up leftovers.

They’re all part
of an extensive
bush recycling team.

Lions and leopards tend to eat
the choice parts of a kill,

protein-rich muscles
and organs.

There’s plenty left over,

sinews, bones,
hair and skin.

Spotted hyenas
are proficient hunters
in their own right.

They’re also scavengers
and are not above clearing up
other hunter’s scraps.

They will eat far more
of a kill than cats do.

They are nature’s dustbins,
incredibly efficient
waste-disposal units.

Their chests and necks
are packed with muscle
that powers a robust jaw.

Their domed skulls and
enormous premolar teeth

are adaptations for
crushing bone.

(BONE CRACKS)

They exert 40% more force
in a bite than a leopard.

But they don’t just
break bones,

they also swallow
and digest them.

Their stomachs are
full of concentrated
hydrochloric acid

strong enough to dissolve
just about anything
that goes in,

hooves, hair,
teeth and bone.

They eat so much bone

that the calcium
in their diet turns their
feces chalky white.

And they don’t care about
"use by" dates.

The rotting flesh
on a fly-blown buffalo leg
that’s several days old

would put off
most meat eaters,

but for this hyena
it’s a tasty midnight snack.

Remarkably, hyenas have
competition for these
gruesome remains.

Vultures are another key part
of the Luangwa Valley’s
waste-management service.

They have an incredible
ability to find a carcass
in the wilderness.

Broad wings generate
lots of lift

so they can fly very high,

5,000 feet or more.

The centre of their
field of view is magnified,

giving them
super-sharp vision

and allowing them to spot
a potential meal

from a mile
up in the sky.

They also look out for other
vultures on the wing.

As soon as one
drops to a carcass,

others quickly follow.

Lappet-faced vultures
are the largest in Africa

with a wingspan
of nearly nine feet.

Big and belligerent,
they usually dominate
a carcass,

but this time
they’re outnumbered.

White-backed vultures
are the most numerous
on the African savannah.

Hundreds can gather
together to feed.

Even the hyenas
are forced off their meal.

The vultures’ featherless
heads and long necks

are perfect for poking
into any orifice.

And like hyenas they have
powerful stomach acid

which neutralizes the toxins
in dead flesh.

Hanging about
on the edges of the melee
are hooded vultures.

They’re too small to compete
in the feeding frenzy,

but they’ve carved out
their own little niche here.

(GROWLING)

They follow lions.

Whenever the pride
makes a kill,

these little vultures
are on hand to hoover up
any stray mouthfuls.

But their relationship
with the big cats
goes even further.

Hooded vultures spice up
their diet with lion poo.

Surprisingly, even this
has something to offer.

With the cats’ purely
carnivorous diet,

lion droppings
are full of protein.

The vultures’ resilient
digestive systems

mean they can exploit
this peculiar food source.

They even fight over it.

(CHITTERING)

It’s an acquired taste.

Even Charles Darwin called
vultures disgusting,

but their reputation
is undeserved.

They are a vitally important
cog in this ecosystem.

Without them, festering waste
would linger far longer,

potentially
spreading disease.

And the humble
hooded vulture’s
willingness to inhabit

such a specialized niche

helps drive biodiversity.

The more types of food
different animals will eat,

the greater
the variety of species
one place can support.

Dung is the basis
of an aquatic
food chain here, too.

The hippos
in the Luangwa River

eat 90 pounds of grass
every night.

And that translates into
45 pounds of dung,

mainly deposited in the river
where they spend
most of the day.

Tail-paddling spreads manure
and is a show of dominance
or displeasure among hippos.

And it dumps
tonnes of nutrients
into the river each day.

Perfect fish food.

And in turn, the fish
provide food for many
species of birds.

A greenshank usually probes
for worms in the mud,

but its upturned beak
means it can also
skim for tiny fry.

Outstretched wings help
a saddle-billed stork

keep its balance
as it chases prey
in the shallows.

It can swallow a fish
weighing nearly
three pounds

and measuring
almost a foot.

A green-backed heron
is an ambush predator.

It lies low
on the river bank

waiting to pounce on any
unsuspecting fish that
comes to the surface to feed.

Its deceptively long neck
allows it to strike its prey
like a snake.

The fish in the Luangwa River
also fuel the largest
predators in Africa,

Nile crocodiles.

The 20-foot adults
could be 100 years old,

but they’re only
eight inches long
at birth.

They grow continuously
all their lives,

feeding on progressively
larger fish

and eventually graduating
to mammalian prey.

The Luangwa River is home to
thousands of crocodiles,

and it’s all thanks
to hippo fertilizer.

In still waters
like this lagoon,

hippo dung also
nourishes plants.

Nile cabbage grows
all over tropical Africa.

It spreads quickly,
often carried between
waterways by hippos.

It’s a juicy meal
for many lagoon residents.

Both above
the water surface

and below it.

The pond life that nibbles
the dangling roots is food
for wading birds.

Open-billed storks
have long beaks

which let them probe deep
into the carpet of vegetation.

Pads on the inside
of the strong mandibles
give them vice-like grip

perfect for catching fish
and freshwater snails.

Birds with short bills can’t
reach such hidden delicacies

without a little help
from a third party.

As well as
fertilizing the crop,

hippos help jacanas
with their harvest.

Even out of the water,

hippos provide a helping hand
to birds.

As these titans walk,
they stir up tiny insects.

The smart place to be
when these giants pass by
is down at ground level.

It’s like gulls following
a fishing trawler.

This relationship is also
apparent at night.

But after dark, it’s not
birds following them

but bats.

Bats will feed anywhere
there are insects.

The distinctive perfume
of a warthog burrow
attracts plenty of flies,

an ideal bat
hunting ground.

A fetid hyena den
is even better.

In some cases,

these little acolytes
don’t just reap benefits,

they do something
in return for their meal.

Oxpeckers feed on
mammalian parasites.

And in doing so,

they provide a comprehensive
pest-control service.

Kudus and buffalos seem to be
favorite oxpecker haunts.

These are both species
that spend lots of time
browsing in thickets,

a hotbed of tick activity.

The more ticks you carry,
the more oxpeckers you need
to keep them in check.

Puku are obligate grazers.
They only eat grass.

They spend less time
in thick undergrowth,

so are less prone
to picking up parasites.

They’re not worth
an oxpecker’s effort.

Hundreds of puku
keep Luangwa’s
short-grass plains trimmed.

These big herds of herbivores
have a huge impact
on the landscape here.

A thousand buffalo

can eat 15 tons of vegetation
between them in a single day.

But under their feet
are hidden creatures
with even greater influence.

Termites.

They’re so numerous,

collectively they weigh
more than all the mammals
combined in the ecosystem.

They feed on dry grasses,

following pheromone trails
as they drag morsels back
to their underground nests.

Blade by blade,

they consume more grass
than all the antelope,
zebra and buffalo.

Just like
mammalian herbivores,

they too
have their predators.

A jumping spider.

He’s tiny, less than
3/8 of an inch long,

but he’s a ferocious hunter.

His big, forward-facing eyes
give him binocular vision,

enabling him to stalk prey
like lions do.

But for his size,

his pounce is much more
impressive than a big cat’s.

He can jump several times
his own body length
from a standing start.

A second species of termite
avoids these diurnal dangers
by staying indoors.

They build huge castles
of mud and saliva

that can be
17 feet high.

A million individuals
can live inside.

Their network of tunnels
aerates the soil

and their feeding activity
keeps nutrients cycling
through the savannah.

This secret army
of subterranean gardeners
is almost never seen.

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

Until now.

After six months of drought,

the first rains trigger
an extraordinary response
from termites.

They emerge in their thousands
and take to the air.

They grow wings
just for one purpose,

to breed.

Termites all over the bush
emerge in synchrony
for this nuptial flight.

It’s their only chance to mix
with different colonies
and stir up the gene pool.

When they find
a willing mate,

pairs drop to
the ground together,

where they shed their wings.

Couples follow
each other faithfully,

sticking to each other
like glue.

The lucky ones will find
a cosy corner to mate in

and a new colony
will begin.

But up to 90%
of these romantic hopefuls
will die in the attempt.

It seems an extravagant
strategy,

but for the termites
it’s a game of numbers.

The more contestants
there are,

the more likely it is
you’ll get a winner
from your colony

passing on his
or her genes.

Come morning,
the termites’ night of
passion is forgotten.

But even after death,

these insects have a last
crucial connection
in the African bush.

For a hungry vervet monkey,
it’s a feast.

She stuffs her cheek pouches.

Each termite is nearly
40% protein.

A few handfuls
are a good meal.

The termites are
miniature herbivores

that are just as vital
a link in the wild web

as antelope and buffalo,

converting plant matter
into meat.

From elephants to beetles,

lions to butterflies and
baboons to tamarind seeds,

this complex network
of hundreds
of little connections

is what makes this
magical ecosystem work.

Fueled by the sun,

and kept running
by an incredible diversity
of animals and plants,

the Luangwa Valley
is one of the greatest
wildernesses in Africa.

♪

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