All language subtitles for Tales From Zambia Series 2 5of8 Valley of the Birds 1080p

NARRATOR:
\hOver the course of a year,

more than 480 different
species of birds

spread their wings
in the Luangwa Valley

in search of food...

Shelter...

And mates.

From the exquisite...

To the ungainly...

These aerial masters
have adapted to exploit
every corner of real estate.

Diving to great depths...

Soaring to
tremendous heights...

And delving into every
tiny crack and crevice.

No part of this wilderness
is left untouched

by the winged wonders
that fly over Luangwa...

The Valley of the Birds.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\h\hA flock of
great white pelicans

flap their gular pouches
to cool down
in the heat of the day.

They’ve eaten
their fill of fish
and are ready to move on.

But each weighs
over 30 pounds,

and has a stomach
full of food.

That’s a lot of bird
to get airborne.

But the white pelican
has a number of things
in its favor.

It has a huge wingspan,
almost 12 feet across,

with two mighty sets
of wing muscles

that make up
a third of its weight.

Even though the pelican

is one of
the heaviest flying birds,

it makes flight look easy.

And that’s down to
the aerodynamic shape
of its wings.

Birds’ wings
are concave below
and convex above.

This shape means air flows
faster over the wing,

causing a change in pressure,
and creating lift.

These ingenious adaptations
are what allow the pelican,
and all birds, to fly.

The Luangwa Valley
is bird paradise.

Most species,
like the pelicans,

are year-round residents
in this idyllic wilderness.

But 10%
are seasonal visitors,

migrants who come
to feed or breed.

(SQUAWKING)

High overhead, another local
rides the air currents.

With its five-foot wingspan,

a yellow-billed stork
moves long distances
up and down the valley,

soaring for miles
with barely a wing-flap.

The long flight feathers
are black

thanks to
the pigment melanin.

But melanin
doesn’t just give color.

It also makes
the feathers stronger,

well-suited to handle
many hours in the air.

A number of birds,
especially long-haul fliers,
have black flight feathers.

White feathers,
with no melanin,

deteriorate
much more quickly.

But all feathers
can be easily damaged

and need careful
looking after

to keep them
in top condition.

(CHIRPING)

Throwing soil everywhere
may not seem the best way
to take care of feathers,

but for this
guineafowl flock
it really does the trick.

Dust-bathing helps to
remove damaging parasites.

But these guineafowl
have added a surprising
ingredient to the mix.

They’ve decided
to take their dust bath

in the middle
of an ants’ nest.

All this disturbance
makes the insects
feel they’re under attack.

So they spray formic acid
to defend themselves.

It’s an ingenious application
of insect repellent

to help keep parasites
at bay.

Although it’s always
a good idea

to avoid bathing
in the favorite spot
of the dominant male.

For many of
the valley’s residents,

bath time means a trip
to the Luangwa River.

This brown-hooded kingfisher
prefers to bathe alone.

(CHIRPING)

Just a few quick dips...

Enough to give
his feathers a wash.

He can’t risk
landing in the water.

His short, weak legs

combined with heavy,
wet feathers

would mean he’d struggle
to get back into the air.

Then he’d be a sitting duck.

A proper dunking is what
this marabou stork needs

to keep
its 25,000 feathers clean.

Flying can take its toll
on this 12-foot wingspan.

Getting the feathers wet
helps remove any folds
and bends picked up mid-air.

Basking in the sun afterwards
dries out any remaining
crinkles and creases.

To finish the grooming
session, the marabou
spends his time preening.

Using his beak, he spreads
oil across his feathers

from a preen gland
at the base of his tail.

This keeps them flexible
and prevents the growth
of bacteria.

Particular attention is paid
to the long wing feathers,

which have to do
a lot of work.

Marabous might look gawky
and ungainly on land,

but in the air,
they’re transformed into
elegant long-distance fliers.

They’re mainly scavengers.

From their lofty
vantage point,

the marabou
scan the valley floor

for the remains
of dead animals.

Heat rising off
the parched valley
creates thermals,

which the storks ride
to great heights.

And up here,
they have company.

The real masters of
these vertical currents
of warm air...

Are vultures.

Five of Africa’s
11 vulture species

are resident
in the Luangwa Valley,

and four of these
are endangered.

These large birds
are capable of soaring
well over a mile high,

barely flapping
their wings at all.

To make use of
a thermal so successfully
requires significant skill.

Air rises fastest
in the centre of a thermal,

so the birds must fly
in as tight a circle
as they can,

as close to the core
as possible.

By shifting from
one thermal to the next,

they can travel
huge distances.

A special assembly
of muscles

keeps their wings
in the soaring position
for hours at a time.

Like the marabou,

vultures mainly feed
on carrion,

often scattered
over the entire landscape.

So they need to be
constantly on the move,

traveling more
than 60 miles a day
in their search for food.

For this resident
of Luangwa,

everything it needs
is right here,

in one 50-yard
stretch of river.

It’s breakfast time
for the pied kingfisher.

He hovers, scanning
the river below for fish.

He’s the largest bird
in the world that can manage
a true hover

without using
any air currents,
relying on wing-power alone.

Since he doesn’t need a perch,

he can fish
further from shore.

But beating his wings
10 times every second

takes up
a huge amount of energy.

So he needs to catch over half
his own body weight every day.

One down.

Only another 10 to go.

The Luangwa River flows
for most of the year

and it’s key
to the valley’s ability

to sustain such abundant
and varied birdlife.

There are seven species
of kingfisher alone,

from the tiny malachite
just over five inches tall...

To the giant kingfisher,
over three times larger.

But surprisingly,
they don’t all eat fish.

The brown-hooded kingfisher
spends most of its time
in woodland,

snacking on insects and frogs.

(SQUAWKING)

There’s such
a rich array of birds

adapted to take advantage
of every opportunity,

that no food source
is left untapped.

There are no prizes
for guessing what this
carmine bee-eater consumes.

Its long slender bill
is perfect for plucking bees
from the air.

(SQUAWKING)

But that’s
just the first step.

Before swallowing,

it must get rid
of the bee’s dangerous sting.

And it has a simple,
if brutal technique.

The sting smashed out,
it’s now safe to eat.

(CHIRPS)

While they’re definitely
bee specialists,

these carmines
are quick to adapt

to the occasional
amuse-bouche.

After it rains, insect larvae
begin to hatch underwater.

Taking a few lessons
from their
kingfisher cousins,

they tweak
their hunting tactic.

Juicy larvae are just
too good a meal to miss.

Carmines are migrants,
traveling hundreds of miles

from Central Africa
to breed in the soft
sand banks of Luangwa.

But other visitors
to the valley

make far longer journeys
to get here.

This greenshank breeds
in the high latitudes
of Europe and Asia

but escapes to
the warmer climes of Africa

when the northern winter
takes hold.

It probes the shallow waters
of the Luangwa River

rooting out snails...

...but if it needs to,
can switch its technique
to chasing fish.

Adapting your diet
to take advantage
of seasonal offerings

can be key to finding a feast.

At a lagoon
just off the river,

dropping water levels
have trapped a glut of fish.

A whole host of bird species
gathers to enjoy the spread.

A wall of legs and beaks
corrals the fish into
ever-decreasing shallows.

Hundreds of feet
stir up the muddy bottom

but most birds here
have bills and tongues
packed with touch receptors.

These are so sensitive,

they can feel the difference
between a tasty fish,
or an inedible pebble.

The short-beaked hamerkop
seems at a disadvantage,

but uses its toes
to tease out frogs
lurking in the mud.

On the edge of the lagoon,
away from the crowds,

the master angler
hunts alone.

A true stalker,
the striated heron
approaches slowly,

almost frozen
in concentration.

Any ripples could
give the game away.

He has a secret weapon.

A specialized vertebra
allows his neck to extend,

giving him
an excellent vantage point

to search for
his slippery prey.

With his eyes firmly
fixed on the prize...

He moves in.

His special neck bone
acts like a hinge,

allowing
a lightning-fast strike.

His prey stood
little chance against
such a skilled fisherman.

Watching closely
from the sidelines,
a marabou stork.

At almost five feet tall,

it’s one of the most
intimidating birds in Africa.

These birds aren’t here
to fish for their supper.

They’re perfectly willing
to steal it.

They use their height
to great effect,

terrorizing their smaller
yellow-billed cousins

into dropping
their hard-won prize.

And there’s no honor
among thieves.

They’ll even steal
from each other if they can.

In a nearby patch
of shady woodland,

a blue waxbill
pecks in the dirt
looking for seeds.

Finding them,
well-camouflaged
against the sandy floor,

is challenge enough
without having thieves
to contend with.

She tests each morsel
to check if it’s edible...

But rejects
more than she keeps.

Another stone.

Finally, she strikes lucky.

Her conical beak has sharp,
cutting edges inside,
which work like a can opener,

expertly removing
the husk to reveal
the juicy kernel within.

(CHIRPS)

All birds, whether fish,
insect or seed-eaters,

must cope with
the ever-changing environment
of the Luangwa Valley.

In November,
heavy rains begin,

and by January
the river rises high enough

to break its banks
and spill out over
its immense floodplain.

When the wet season
comes to an end in March,

there are seven months
to endure without
a single drop of rain.

The valley changes
almost beyond recognition.

The fast-flowing river
slows to a trickle

and lagoons,
once full of life,
grow parched and bare.

To survive, birds
have to change tactics

and adjust
to the new conditions.

Although some are better
adapted for this than others.

On the dry lagoon bed,

the hamerkop is no longer
a self-sufficient hunter

able to find frogs
with its feet.

With a beak
only three inches long,

it struggles to reach
into the deep cracks of mud
where the frogs are hiding.

Now it must rely on
a bit of inadvertent
help from others.

With foot-long beaks,

saddlebill storks
make it look easy.

But they’re no help
to the hamerkop.

On the other hand,

this mob of banded mongooses
could be just what it needs.

As they dig,
the hamerkops try to snatch.

(CHIRPS)

(CHIRPING)

But this mongoose
is too quick.

It seems no one
is willing to share.

The hamerkop is going
to have to look elsewhere
for his next meal.

Out on the plains,
an impala has succumbed
to the drought.

First on the scene,
a hooded vulture.

(SQUAWKS)

As the smallest
of the vultures
in Luangwa,

it’s usually pushed
to the edges of a kill,

relegated to
picking up scraps.

Faced with a whole carcass,

it’s difficult to know
where to begin.

Its beak simply isn’t strong
enough to open it up,

and alone, there’s
not much it can do.

But it doesn’t
have to wait long.

Riding high on thermals

gives vultures
an excellent view
of the ground below.

And of the movements
of fellow vultures.

When one drops from the sky,
others swiftly follow.

(SQUAWKING)

Within a few minutes,
a whole mass turns up.

There’s a definite
pecking order.

The larger
white-backed vultures
take precedence,

and the hooded vultures
have to take a back seat.

And then
the big guns arrive...

The most powerful
and aggressive vultures
in Africa,

the lappet-faced.

They’re often the first
at a carcass,

and with a beak
that can tear through
tough skin and muscles,

they shoulder their way
in to prime position.

But this time, they’re late.

Leftovers are all
that are on offer.

This white-backed vulture
has certainly had its fill.

Its crop, just under its neck,
is full to bursting.

This is where extra food
is stored after a big meal,

to be softened up
before being released slowly
into the digestive system.

It’s clearly
not the only one
who’s over-indulged.

The small hooded vulture
has missed out on a good feed,

so it moves on to other,
less appealing options.

It can’t afford
to be too picky.

It follows the lions around,

waiting for an easy meal.

(SQUAWKS)

But it’s not what
you might expect.

Lion poop.

With plenty of tasty morsels
packaged up in the dung,

it’s full of protein and fats.

The vulture has
such strong stomach acid,

any harmful bacteria
are quickly neutralized.

(SQUAWK OVERHEAD)

Lion poop is such
a prized commodity,
it’s worth fighting for.

Nothing goes to waste here.

In times of drought,
food is hard to come by
for all those in Luangwa.

But one canny bird has found
a way around the problem.

This giraffe is rarely alone.

Everywhere he goes,

he’s accompanied
by a small crew
of red-billed oxpeckers.

(CHIRPING)

They’re assiduously removing
disease-carrying ticks
hiding in the giraffe’s fur.

Sharp claws enable them
to cling on for the ride
while they get to work,

reaching parts
most other birds
simply couldn’t,

or wouldn’t want to reach.

Once again,
nothing goes to waste.

But the gold medal
for efficiency when eating

goes to
the red-billed quelea.

These tiny birds,
each weighing less
than an ounce,

are here year-round,

but gather together
in the dry season in flocks
that can be thousands,

or even millions strong.

They cluster together to feed,

sweeping through
a patch of grass

and stripping it
of every available seed.

Once the ground is cleared,

birds at the back
leap-frog to the front

and start on the next plot
to be cleared.

(ALL CHIRPING)

Each bird eats half
its own body weight
in seeds in a day,

so a flock of 100,000

devours a ton of food,
every day.

As the sun gets low,

quelea congregate at the river
for the last drink of the day.

Their conveyor-belt
technique works here, too.

Each bird drinks
its fill and moves on,
making way for the next.

In flight, they must
constantly make
quick calculations

to avoid crashing
into their neighbors.

Birds have many more
visual cells in their eyes
than mammals,

helping them process
visual information fast.

As the light fades
from the sky,
the quelea settle to roost...

While another Luangwa
resident starts to wake up.

This giant eagle owl has spent
most of the day sleeping.

It’s the largest
of Africa’s owls,

a solitary hunter,
with wicked talons perfectly
adapted to grabbing prey.

Distinctive pink eyelids
lend a lazy look

that belies
excellent binocular vision.

And it’s at night
that this powerful eyesight
really comes into its own.

The owl’s huge eyes
are nearly an inch
and a half in diameter.

The pupils dilate so wide

they let in nearly
three times as much light
as do human eyes.

Dim moonlight is all it needs.

It’s spotted something...

An elephant shrew
looking for insects.

Its eyes are extremely
sensitive to movement,
rather than shape.

If the shrew had stayed still,

it might have
evaded detection.

It’s lucky, this time.

The owl will have to wait
for supper.

High above the river,
the guineafowl flock roosts
in the safety of the trees.

At over 100 feet tall,

these trees usually
provide a secure hideout
from predators.

But a leopard
is no ordinary hunter.

An expert climber,

this female has powerful
shoulder muscles

to pull herself up
a vertical trunk.

She moves
in almost complete silence

until she’s just
within striking range.

But the sudden movement
gives her away.

(SQUAWKING)

Loud squawks put
the whole flock on high alert.

(SQUAWKING CONTINUES)

It pays to stay together.

By day, guineafowl constantly
chatter to one another.

It helps keep
the flock together.

(SQUAWKING)

Head down in the dust
is a vulnerable position,

so it’s useful to have
plenty of eyes keeping
a lookout for danger.

A monitor lizard
searches for breakfast.

(SQUAWKING)

Once again, the alarm system
proves to be a life-saver.

The lizard moves on to find
less melodramatic prey.

He tastes the air
with his long forked tongue.

Any scent particles
are transferred
to sense organs

in the roof of his mouth
and then to his brain.

He’s caught the whiff
of a white-fronted
bee-eater colony.

His claws are strong
and sharp enough
to dig into the cliff

to get to the birds
and eggs inside.

But he’s not going
to have it all his own way.

They may be small,
but bee-eaters aren’t ones
to stay silent.

(SQUAWKING)

Their shrill alarm calls
warn the whole colony
of 200 birds

that the lizard is near.

Banding together,
they harass the intruder.

Better find somewhere
a little less well-defended.

(LOW CHIRPING)

A strange hollow call
resonates across the valley.

This female southern
ground hornbill is making
her presence known.

By inflating the air sac
on her throat,

she essentially turns herself
into a loud speaker...
(LOW CHIRP)

Amplifying far-traveling
low-frequency sounds.

The call can carry
nearly three miles,

letting any other hornbill
know that this territory
is already taken.

No matter the season...

No matter the location...

The assortment of bird calls
to be heard in Luangwa
is unrivaled.

(CHIRPS)

(ALL CHIRPING)

Few places in Africa
are home

to such an extraordinary
diversity of birdlife,

taking advantage
of all that’s on offer.

The largest eagles
hunt in water...

And on land.

While tiny, colorful gems,
hunters in miniature,
snatch insects from the air.

Luangwa is home
to winged beauties...

And those that are perhaps
less attractive,
but no less impressive.

Solitary hunters...

And those that thrive
in a crowd.

Some fly for miles...

While others never leave
their own backyard.

For residents and visitors
alike, Luangwa is utopia.

It’s truly
the Valley of the Birds.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

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