Original subtitles

\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\hIn three extraordinary wildernesses

live three remarkable animals.

A giraffe calf finds his feet in the hot Luangwa Valley.

A baby baboon discovers the highs

and lows of forest life on the high plateau of Kasanka.

And sibling cheetah cubs rely on their mother

to survive on the desolate expanse of Liuwa Plain.

\h\h\h\h\h\h(SCREECHING) Each habitat is different.

(SHRIEKING)

Each offers something special to the animals that call it home.

These are the many faces of Zambia’s African Edens.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\hIt’s August, and Zambia’s dry season

is turning the Luangwa Valley a parched shade of brown.

Midday temperatures are around 80 degrees Fahrenheit and rising.

A female giraffe anxiously surveys her surroundings

at the edge of a dried-out lagoon.

She’s carefully chosen this spot.

The thick low bush that grows here

is not only perfect for browsing,

but also for sheltering a very special arrival.

(BIRDS CHIRPING)

He took his first wobbly steps within an hour of being born.

Now, he’s a week old, and still a little unsteady on his pins.

His mother keeps him hidden and safe while he finds his feet.

But soon, he’ll be ready to meet the rest of the giraffe herd.

This youngster is a new addition to a population of some 600 giraffe

living in the Luangwa Valley.

It’s the only place in Zambia where giraffe live

isolated from all others of their kind in Africa.

They’re Maasai giraffe, the largest of the four species,

with adults reaching nearly 19 feet.

So, this little guy

could grow up to be the tallest animal on Earth.

Their closest giraffe neighbors live over 300 miles away,

further north up East Africa’s Rift Valley.

The Great Rift is a series of canyons and escarpments

that runs the length of East Africa,

and culminates in the Luangwa Valley.

It’s a geological depression, 60 miles wide,

flanked by distant mountains to the east,

and a 3,000 foot plateau to the west.

Running through the heart of this low, hot valley is the Luangwa River.

A permanent water source,

even at this, the driest time of year.

Riverine forests grow in the mineral-rich soils of its banks,

providing food and shelter for all the valley’s animal residents,

including giraffe.

The forests are full of the giraffe’s favorite foods like acacia and bush willow.

But at this time of year, they search for one tree in particular...

The sausage tree,

which is just coming into flower

as the valley’s approaching its driest.

The flowers contain sweet nectar and are a seasonal treat for the giraffe.

They also feed a whole host of other valley residents...

Large

and small.

The mother giraffe can eat and keep one eye on her baby at the same time.

An abundance of sausage trees is one reason the valley is a haven for these giants.

Thirty-seven miles west of Luangwa, up on the high plateau,

another new baby is born into a very different African Eden...

Kasanka National Park.

(BOTH SHRIEKING)

At an altitude of nearly 4,000 feet,

it’s cooler and wetter than the Luangwa Valley.

It’s the perfect home for a primate that’s found nowhere else in Zambia...

The Kinda baboon.

Kasanka National Park is in northern Zambia.

Just 18 miles from the border with the Democratic Republic of Congo.

It’s 180 square miles of flat wilderness,

a mosaic of plains,

swamps

and woodland.

Nearly 2,000 Kinda baboons live here.

Cousins of yellow baboons, they’ve only recently been described

as a distinct species.

(SHRIEKING)

The baby boy is just a few weeks old

and the newest member of this 80 strong troop.

They spend all day walking through the park’s woodlands,

foraging for termites, seeds and roots.

The abundant miombo trees provide plenty of shade.

These trees usually shed their leaves for a short time in the dry season

to reduce water loss.

But here, in Kasanka, the woodlands remain greener than most.

Heavy soils and impermeable rocks hold the water table high

and keep the trees in leaf...

(GIBBERING)

...providing shelter and a year-round buffet for the Kinda baboons.

Kasanka is monkey heaven.

(GIBBERS)

Although the baby boy is still reliant on his mum’s milk,

he’s already learning what this Eden has to offer.

The dry season is when the pod-bearing miombo trees come into fruit.

He watches his mother carefully.

It’s important for him to know which pods to eat and how to get into them.

They’re hard to rip open, but the effort is worthwhile.

The seeds inside are a nutritious protein rich snack for the baby’s mother.

An essential food source when little else is on offer.

Watching mother eat can get boring for an adventurous baby baboon.

Time to explore his new home.

(GIBBERING)

Life’s a game at this age, but playtime also helps the babies master

the art of moving about in trees.

It strengthens limb muscles and helps improve the grip of tiny hands.

(SHRIEKING)

While Kasanka has many habitats to explore,

the woodlands will be his lifeline,

providing him with food throughout the year.

So, mastering his jungle gym is essential.

He’s confident and doing well.

But perhaps too confident.

His mother watches from below.

But he’s climbing almost out of sight.

(SHRIEKING)

She scoops him up.

Luckily none the worse for wear.

He’s young and still has a lot to learn.

Five hundred miles to the west of Kasanka,

lies a desolate moonscape, Liuwa Plain.

The plain is on the far western edge of Zambia.

Like Kasanka, it sits on the central high plateau

at an elevation of just over 3,000 feet.

This wild, wind-blown and remote grassland couldn’t be more different.

(CRICKETS CHIRPING)

The vast flat plain stretches as far as the eye can see.

Mile upon mile of sandy permeable soil,

where grass turns to dust when the dry season sets in.

Here, some of Africa’s most famous plains wildlife

scratches a living during the drought,

but reaps the reward when the wet season

flushes the plain green with new growth.

Hiding in the thicket, a rare Zambian resident lives on the fringes of the plain...

The cheetah.

With only around 20 cheetah living in this National Park,

and barely 7,000 of these endangered cats living worldwide,

scientists closely monitor them, tracking their every move.

This female is a success story.

She has four five-month-old cubs.

As many as 70% of cheetah cubs die of disease

or are killed by lion or hyena in the first two months of life.

This mother’s done well to keep her cubs safe and healthy.

But the cheetah family is about to face its toughest time.

The cubs are no longer reliant on their mother’s milk.

Only meat will do.

Collectively, the family needs to eat around 15 pounds of meat every day.

But by the end of August, choice of prey is limited.

It’s the middle of the dry season, and most of the wildebeest herds

have abandoned the parched plains in search of new feeding grounds.

(LOWING)

Only a few remain, and most are males.

The cubs are still too young to hunt

and adult male wildebeest are too large for the mother to kill alone.

She needs to find something smaller.

A little oribi ram weighs just 30 pounds.

He’d be perfect prey for the lightweight cheetah.

But at this time of year, they’re spread thinly across the sparse plain.

Her best bet is to find a waterhole,

and hope prey comes to her.

It means leaving her cubs alone,

dangerous when hyenas or lions would kill them given a chance.

But it’s a risk the hungry mother has to take.

All she can do is hope that they stay out of sight while she’s away.

It could be a long wait.

There hasn’t been a drop of rain for three months.

The grass has died back,

leaving only a swathe of dried-out vegetation for the male wildebeest to munch on.

They tolerate this temporary poor quality diet

for one very important reason...

Territory.

Dotted across the 1,351-square mile park,

small pockets of heavier, clay-based soils support precious waterholes.

This is valuable wildebeest real estate.

In a few weeks’ time, females will return to these plains ready to breed.

They’ll choose a mate based on stamina and turf.

This plot will offer a feast of nutritious plants

(SNORTS)

and a valuable supply of drinking water.

It’s worth defending...

Which means fighting.

(SNORTS) \h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h(SNORTS)

(BOTH SNORTING)

He gets to keep it for now.

The cheetah mother’s tactic has paid off.

She’s made a kill.

A female red lechwe.

It’s a good meal.

One-hundred-and-thirty pounds of meat.

But coming close to the waterhole has brought her

into the territory of the hyped-up male wildebeest.

And he’s not happy to see her.

(SNORTS)

Having a cheetah around won’t help pulling females.

(SNORTS)

He threatens the cheetah with snorts and digging.

(SNORTS)

She holds her ground.

The meal is too valuable to leave.

But a direct charge by a 500 pound angry male is enough of a threat.

(SNORTS)

She can’t take the risk of being injured, especially with so many mouths to feed.

The cheetah family will go hungry today.

By October, the dry season has turned the hot Luangwa Valley

into a furnace.

Temperatures now soar into the hundreds,

and the rains aren’t due to arrive for another month.

(RUMBLES)

Many of the larger animals are struggling.

A dried-out lagoon beside the river

has become a death trap for an old hippo.

This will be his last dry season.

The dwindling flow of the Luangwa River is a magnet for wildlife.

The river banks are filled with Africa’s most iconic creatures.

Including the giraffe mothers.

They’ve left the calves to stay cool in the woodlands.

The youngster is now a month old and spends most of his time

hanging out with a gang of buddies.

Giraffe females give birth to one calf at a time,

but several in the herd have little ones the same age.

These lanky little playmates are the tallest babies in the Valley.

They were six feet tall at birth, and are growing fast.

They’ve already gone up another nine inches.

Like fingerprints, no two giraffe patterns are the same.

These blotchy coats help them stay hidden in the dappled light of the woodland.

But these markings have another purpose.

They’re a big help under the hot dry African sun.

Under each dark patch lies a network of blood vessels.

As a giraffe’s temperature rises, these blood vessels dilate,

dissipating heat quickly.

There can be as much as 9 degrees difference between dark and light skin.

These clever little thermal windows help giraffe stay cool in the heat of the day.

Cool enough for a game of chase.

Stretching those long-legged muscles is good exercise.

By the time they’re fully grown adults,

they’ll be able to run at 35 miles an hour.

But now, Mum’s back from her drink

and it’s time for his.

He’ll suckle her rich milk for another 11 months,

by which time he’ll be twice his height.

Five miles east, a much larger giraffe makes his way towards the river.

He’s a mature bull, roaming the valley in search of females

that are ready to mate.

Walking in the blistering heat,

he’s carefully chosen his route.

He’s crossing an area known as the "salt pans."

This experienced bull is over 20 years old,

and knows this place well.

It hides a life-giving secret...

A perennial spring.

The Luangwa River Valley is peppered with over 80 springs,

some of them hot.

The water seeps up to the surface from rock fractures deep underground

signs of the valley’s tectonic origins.

It’s a welcome supply of water for the bull so far from the main river.

But, it has more to offer.

It’s full of salts and minerals leached from the rocks below.

These extra ingredients maintain the bull’s health

and keep him at his physical best.

The spring creates a year-round mini wetland Eden,

drawing in animals from miles around.

(TWITTERING)

Grey crowned-cranes come here to drink, and also feed.

(SQUAWKING)

Long grasses that fringe the spring-fed stream hide insects and amphibians...

Making this a life-giving wonderland

in the heart of the hot dry valley,

for those that know where to find it.

One-hundred miles west of Luangwa,

Kasanka’s Kinda baboon troop is also on the move.

Desperate for water, the young baboon and his mother are heading to a swamp.

But to get to there, the troop needs to cross a patch of open grassland.

A dangerous move.

Martial eagles patrol the skies.

They’re huge and powerful.

They can weigh over 10 pounds

and have a wingspan of 8 feet,

and they’re capable of plucking an adult baboon from the ground.

The males and juveniles head into the meadow first,

followed by the mothers and babies. \h\h\h\h\h\h(SHRIEKS)

Then an alarm call.

(BABOON SCREECHING)

Two martial eagles are hunting at the far side of the meadow.

The baboons need to cross quickly,

and keep an eye on each other as well as the sky,

difficult in the long grass.

The only way is to run and jump at the same time.

It might look comical, but the spy hopping move could be a lifesaver.

They’ve all made it across.

Now, the baby baboon is free to explore this new corner of his Eden.

(SHRIEKING)

In October, the dry season reaches its zenith,

and even Kasanka dries up.

The swamp is the only place to find water.

Papyrus palms grow here year-round.

Shoots of the young plants hide a hidden treasure,

but the baboons know the swamp’s secret.

They’re expert diggers, and soon get to the bit of the plant they’re after

the tubers and rhizomes.

Full of vitamins and minerals as well as fibre,

the roots are a vital addition to the baboons’ dry season diet.

As night falls, the troop heads towards its roost in an ebony tree.

En route they’re distracted by sap seeping from an acacia.

It’s a sugary treat, and gives the baboons an extra boost of energy.

Using their long canines, they make the tear in the bark bigger,

keeping the wound open for another day.

Getting from the acacia to their roost tree takes a leap of faith.

Now it’s the turn of the baby’s mother,

with him clinging on for dear life.

Sheltered in the comforting branches of the ebony tree,

mother and baby are safe from prowling predators.

And from up high,

the young monkey gets a view of a dramatic night time spectacle

unfolding over the swamp.

Thousands of straw-colored fruit bats.

Some have travelled 1,200 miles to this special Eden.

They’re here in anticipation of the coming rains and the flush of forest fruit

that will fill Kasanka’s woodlands over the next few months.

But not quite yet.

By late October,

it’s been five months since a drop of rain

has fallen on the high Liuwa Plain far to the west.

(INSECTS CHIRPING)

The male wildebeest graze the last scraps of vegetation.

This is the most difficult time for the animals that live here.

Day-time temperatures peak in the mid-nineties.

And in the middle of the plain,

no trees on this bleak and vast landscape means no shelter.

The only way resident hyenas can stay cool

is by wallowing in the rapidly shrinking waterholes scattered across the plain.

Having a drink is an uneasy experience for the wildebeest.

They know that hyenas rarely hunt during the day.

But to make sure, the wildebeest approach cautiously,

(SNORTS)

testing the hyena’s reaction.

(SNORTS)

They’re still sleepy, so it’s safe to drink.

Life in Liuwa would be impossible without these waterholes.

The precious pools born from pockets of clay

are mini oases in a desert of sand,

and an essential part of what makes this Zambian Eden so special.

The cheetah mother still has four mouths to feed.

The cubs are getting adventurous and are now following their mother

as she roams the plains to hunt.

But they’re inexperienced, and don’t make her life easy.

With the bulk of the wildebeest herds

grazing 300 miles to the north,

she’s still after the smaller oribi.

At this time of year, they’re scattered across the vast plain

making them hard to find.

And their nervous nature keeps them constantly on guard.

One twitch of an over-excited tail...

And the hunt is ruined.

But high winds indicate a shift in weather.

Life is about to get a little easier.

The rains are due to return to Liuwa Plain in the next few weeks.

When the rains arrive,

so too will 45,000 wildebeest. (LOWING)

The family just needs to hang on a little longer.

Over in the Luangwa Valley to the east, all is not well with the giraffe family.

During the night, lions took the little male giraffe.

By the nature of their size,

adult giraffe are almost never killed by predators,

but the young are small and vulnerable.

It’s a distressing time for the giraffe mother.

She carried her baby for 15 months before he was born.

It’ll be at least another two years before she has another calf to look after.

The baby giraffe gang is one comrade down.

In the intense heat of the Valley,

rapidly rising hot air sets off dust devils.

Building clouds suggest relief is imminent.

The bull giraffe has found company.

He’s been closely guarding a female for the last few days.

He constantly checks her urine for hormones that tell him when she’s ready to mate.

Today’s the day. She’s reached the peak of her fertility.

Their size and long legs mean mating can be a tricky business.

But with this experienced old bull, it’s all over in a flash.

In a year and three months, a new baby will be born in the valley.

By then, it’ll be the middle of next year’s wet season.

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

Massive towers of clouds reach 40,000 feet into the sky above the valley,

eventually releasing their load onto the parched land below.

The rains finally arrive.

The Luangwa River begins to swell...

Fed by dozens of tributaries.

The once dry lagoons that fringe the river fill with water...

And life.

Zambia’s Edens turn a lush shade of green.

Up on the plateau, the rains have also arrived in Kasanka National Park.

(SHRIEKING)

The once dry, brown woodlands and meadows have been transformed.

The baby baboon is now three-months old.

He no longer clings to his mother’s belly,

but sits upright, like a jockey on her back.

(GIBBERS) \hHe gets a great view \hof his home from up here,

and can see that the rains have brought new wonders to discover.

Trees are laden with fruit.

Termite mounds heave with nutritious mushrooms.

The forest feast will provide more than enough food for the baboon troop...

And their new neighbors.

Just beyond the meadow,

10 million straw-colored fruit bats now live in the swamp...

(SCREECHING)

...all squeezed into half a square mile.

This is one of the largest known gatherings of fruit bats in the world.

(ALL SCREECHING)

And, in terms of numbers, it’s the largest mammal migration on Earth.

This one special patch of moist evergreen forest

provides the bats with a comfortable home during the heat of the day.

They jostle for roost-space,

using a hooked claw on their wing-tip to grip and climb.

Gingery bodies and pointed faces

give the bats the nickname, "flying foxes."

Each bat is about eight inches long,

but has a wing span of two-and-a-half feet.

The wings are formed from a membrane of skin,

crisscrossed with a network of hair-thin muscles,

which control stiffness and shape.

Unlike insectivorous bats,

fruit bats don’t use echolocation,

but rely on vision instead.

At night, eye shine reveals large eyes.

Sight and smell guide them to their fruity feast.

And these woodlands are full of their favorite food...

Water berries.

Each bat eats five pounds of fruit every night,

twice its own bodyweight.

By the time they leave in a month,

over a billion fruits will have been devoured,

and the trees will have been stripped bare.

These ravenous winged visitors are some competition.

But the bats are more of a bonus than a burden.

They’re responsible for 60% of all seed dispersal here,

replanting the forest and ensuring there’s always enough to go ’round.

This gigantic influx of bats is so special,

it’s the reason this Zambian Eden is designated as a National Park.

Thanks to the bats, the baby baboon and his troop enjoy protection too.

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

The last of these African Edens to get respite from the drought is Liuwa Plain.

(CRACKLING)

It’s not until mid-November that the bone-dry landscape

is softened by a sheen of green.

The rains trigger a series of remarkable events.

Winged male and female termites

emerge from underground and take to the air.

(FLUTTERING)

Pairs mate on the wing, then fall to the ground.

They shed their wings and burrow under the softened soil to start a new colony.

This brief airborne bounty is a feast

for thousands of migrating black-winged pratincoles.

They’re here to escape the winter in central Europe,

and benefit from the explosion of insect life that comes with the summer rains in Zambia.

(CHIRPING)

Below the feeding pratincoles, more migrants flood into the plain.

Thousands of wildebeest finally arrive to feast on the fresh new grass.

The resident males who endured the full brunt of the dry season now reap their reward.

The prime real estate alongside the waterhole

is packed with thirsty females ready to mate.

(LOWING)

The arrival of wall-to-wall prey means the mother cheetah’s options

have finally opened up.

Her African Eden has provided exactly what she needs just at the right moment.

Healthy adult wildebeest are a struggle to bring down,

but there are smaller options on the menu now.

The wildebeest calves are the perfect target for training cubs.

They’ve made it through the tough dry season.

Now, the time is ripe for these youngsters to come of age

and earn their spots as hunters.

These are Zambia’s Edens.

Three extraordinary wildernesses defined by the Earth on which they sit.

The valley...

The plain...

And the high plateau...

Each shaped by the same seasons,

yet offering something different to those that call them home.

(SNORTS)

Whether a permanent resident

or a seasonal visitor,

there are few places in the world

that rival Zambia’s wild domains

for their sheer beauty, and wealth of wildlife.

They are true African Edens.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

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