Original subtitles

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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