All language subtitles for Great.Migrations.S01E03.Race.to.Survive.720p.BluRay.x264-Pahe.in

They are born to move...

to join the chase...

racing against the clock...

to reach all-too-brief Edens.

And teaching their young
that in a restless world...

timing is everything.

Right now our planet
is on the march...

on the wing...

on the run.

And these are the tales
of its creatures...

the most moving stories on Earth...

the stories of the great migrations.

[zebra braying]

lt's spring in the Southern Hemisphere,

and Africa's painted horses luxuriate
in the waters of Botswana's paradise-

the Okavango Delta.

Here, the yearly floods create
the largest inland delta in the world.

And the siren song of water

brings together one of the richest
panoramas of wildlife on Earth.

Magnificent plains zebras
must drink their fill now.

They are about to set off

on one of the most curious
migrations in the world...

...out of this flooded paradise
and into a brutal inferno.

With eyes on the horizon,

they wait for the rains
to fall to the south-

watering their path into a dry purgatory
that holds the key to their survival.

[thunder]

Family by family, the stallions
lead their mares out of Eden.

Their strange destination:

a killing flat desert
of dust and salt

known as the Makgadikgadi
Salt Pans.

Leaving Botswana's rich delta,

they will travel beyond
its watery fingers

into the salt pans,

a 150-mile slog into hell.

[braying]

Almost immediately, the zebras enter
the desiccated grasslands beyond the delta-

where water grows scarce.

Dozens become hundreds...

and then thousands

as the Okavango family groups
join up with others

on the strange pilgrimage
into the pans.

The herd presents a bewildering chaos
of stripes to predators.

But for the zebras,
these stripes mean everything.

Each animal has a unique pattern,

as distinct and recognizable
as faces are to us.

lt's how this baby will find its mother
from among the riot of patterns.

Two young lions stalk the herd.

They know that if they shadow
the migration long enough,

heat and distance
will take their toll.

lt's too hot to kill by day.

That will come later.

[zebra squealing]

[snarling]

[bellowing]

The next morning, the herd seems
to take solace in each other.

They have lost several
members to the lions.

They step carefully
in each other's tracks now,

creating a tapestry
of their migration.

The occasional rains here
have left temporary waterholes

to sustain them on theirjourney.

But these oases are shrinking,
so they must now hurry‒

into the deadlands
of the salt pans.

Like the zebras,
virtually all migrating creatures

live by a ticking clock.

For most, it is the seasons that hasten
theirjourneys to worlds of plenty.

And in the far north,
the migratory clock ticks down

according to the whims
of the ice.

Here, ice is haven and compass,
port and transport,

for the titans of the Arctic.

[groaning]

Off the Alaskan coast,

male walruses rest
on floating bachelor pads.

But their platforms are shrinking,

and close quarters
cause tempers to flare.

They abandon their melting havens

in an epic search
for food and dry land.

The fate of a walrus lies
in the vagaries of the ice-

and the Arctic has become
temperamental lately.

Not far from the males,

females have also been contending
with melting sanctuaries.

Born less than a day ago,

a pup follows his mother
into freezing water.

He now gets a swimming lesson

as tender as any human child
has received.

lt looks like fun, but this
is serious business.

The females and the young
must soon begin their own migration

in pursuit of ice-

and the little ones
must keep up.

The females curve northward
through the Bering Strait,

headed for the usually ice-filled waters
off of Russia's Wrangel lsland,

while their male counterparts make
for the shores of the Chukchi Sea.

Now the bulls are converging
on their destination

after weeks and hundreds
of miles at sea.

They struggle ashore;
pink with their efforts.

Unlike the females,
they summer on dry land.

Crowded, cranky and uncomfortable,
they will at least be safe.

But for the females, luck-
and ice-have run out.

Where once they would have
found frozen seas,

there is only open water.

Not built to swim long distances,
and used to resting on floes,

they will have to add a new
and dangerous leg to theirjourney.

They turn south
along the Russian coast...

headed for an epic collision
of migrations...

and end up off the same beaches

where the males
have staked their claim.

There are few suitable
haul-out spots.

They must now attempt landfall
among the crush of males.

There's no turning back.

The mechanism of
the Arctic's great clock-its ice-

has wound down,
stranding them here.

And the watchmaker, the sun,
tilts higher in the sky each day.

The days of ice are far off...

and young lives
hang in the balance.

Everywhere in the Northern Hemisphere,
spring is changing landscapes...

and unleashing grand
movements of creatures.

[coyote howls]

The icons of the American West

have always embodied movement,
freedom, migration...

...for animals and humans alike-

proud...

[elk bugling]

...unconstrained,
always on the move.

Those days are slipping away‒

but one indomitable creature insists
on maintaining its ancient journey‒

the pronghorn.

Each year, a small band follows

the longest migration in the Americas
below the Arctic.

Only these determined 200
have managed to stick to the old routes.

Sometimes called the American antelope,
this creature is no antelope at all.

ln fact, it has no close living relative
anywhere in the world.

Shy but gutsy, and by far the fastest
land animal in the New World,

the pronghorn can move
at up to 60 miles per hour.

lt will need its speed and grit
to beat the seasonal clock.

From southern Wyoming,

this herd will travel north
more than 120 miles to the Tetons,

a long way against longer odds
to reach their calving grounds.

[machine chugging]

Nothing in the pronghorn's evolution
could prepare them for this gauntlet.

[truck approaching]

[horn blows]

[automobile whizzes by]

[crow calling]

[dog barking]

The pronghorn must pass
through human-made bottlenecks

as narrow as a quarter mile.

And so they are now
running two races‒

against the spreading
human footprint...

and against the march
of the seasons.

Eventually they enter
more promising terrain‒

a spate of red hills
untouched by man.

Driven on by a memory sustained
over thousands of generations,

they know that better lies ahead.

But they are not home free.

Fences are formidable barriers...

...and potential deathtraps.

[crow calling]

But never underestimate this creature's
unconquerable will to live.

As winter eases, snowmelt
transforms the landscape.

Creeks can be hurdled.

But rivers such as the Gros Ventre
require nerves of steel.

Rarely seen, this fording is perilous.

But the pronghorn
are impelled to try it...

no matter the odds.

Once crossed, they're home...

in the glorious safety
of Grand Teton National Park.

A place free from barbed wire
and deadly highways.

The right kind of neighborhood
for raising children.

Each a triumph for this
hardy band of survivors.

Fleet of foot and strong of heart,

who will trace prehistoric pathways
to greener pastures...

for as long as we will let them.

ln Africa, the pastures
are anything but green.

After two hot weeks of walking,

the zebras have reached the inferno
of the Makgadikgadi Salt Pans.

They hungrily nibble and lip

at the mineral deposits
of this ancient lake‒

feeding a life-or-death craving.

Now the mystery of their strange
and brutal migration becomes clear:

they've traded the heaven
of a lush delta‒

for one of the largest salt-licks
in the world.

The tall harsh grasses would
seem to be an unpleasant mouthful‒

but these have absorbed
precious minerals from the pans.

Energized by their new diet,
they kick up their heels.

Now they can escape
from this scorched earth‒

in search of remaining water.

lt has been a long time between rains,
but a few waterholes remain.

Milky with the mud and salt
of this place,

the water will nonetheless have to
slake the thirst of hundreds.

Cranky ostriches
tower over the zebras,

clearly unhappy about the four-legged
monopoly at the waterhole.

Stallions bark orders at their harems,
trying to maintain control.

Bachelor males
harass young females...

fraying equine nerves.

Females are riveted
by the fights.

The outcomes determine
their own destinies.

The future fathers of their foals.

They go for slender legs
with their teeth.

And...they kick.

[zebra braying]

A victorious male
rounds up his harem.

After weeks in the pans,
the waterholes are drying up.

Time to head back in the direction
of the Okavango Delta.

So they will retrace the steps
of their strange journey.

A journey that will take a terrible toll.

A mother has died.

Her foal bewildered
and refusing to move.

His young father brought up short
by conflicting ties.

His son‒or his hard-won harem.

Still nursing,
the colt appears doomed.

The stallion seems
to consider his options...

while his harem presses on.

The foal turns back to his mother...

and tries to rouse her‒

a choice that should prove fatal.

His father seems unwilling
to give up on him‒

and a stunning act of parental sacrifice
is about to unfold.

Where night falls on the earth,

it brings many great
land migrations to a halt.

But wherever the sun goes down
on the world's oceans,

one that feeds and regenerates
our entire planet‒

and it happens every single day.

Each night, in all our oceans,

trillions of tiny dynamos
rise to the surface to eat‒

a luminous blizzard
of microorganisms

who make up the largest
migration on Earth.

They are plankton‒

the minuscule larvae of shrimp,
crabs, lobsters and other creatures,

spinning like frenetic stars and galaxies
in deep space.

These minute, gorgeous creatures

anchor the food chains
that feed our blue planet.

ln the waters of the Caribbean,
just beyond Belize's Great Barrier Reef,

another microscopic feast
is about to erupt.

An irresistible lure
to the largest fish on Earth.

From a whirl of thousands
of cubera snapper,

a dark shape emerges‒

a true sea monster.

At up to 40 feet long and 20 tons,

the whale shark has timed
its migration perfectly

to be here at this instant.

The shark has no interest
in the snapper themselves‒

but something more precious‒
their unborn young.

A far-off beacon
announces that it's time...

a full moon.

And it begins.

A vortex of fish,
a volcano of procreation...

erupting as females release eggs
and males release sperm.

These spasms of milky lava
are why the whale sharks have come,

to vacuum in massive quantities
of eggs and milt.

And there is yet another feast
for the sharks.

The dog snapper have also heard
the call of the moon...

streaming to the surface and exploding
with their genetic hopes.

Then, they surge back to the depths,
their procreative duty done.

When they have had their fill,

the massive, graceful sharks
will move on...

in search of the next brief gift
from our bountiful seas.

[bird squawking]

Like the seas, rainforests
demand exquisite timing

from creatures chasing
pulses of plenty.

And a spectacular feast
is about to explode

here in the emerald heart
of Borneo.

Draped across the equator
of Southeast Asia,

Borneo is the third largest
island in the world,

and home to 150,000 square miles
of rainforest...

and today,
one riotously blooming tree.

And so rush hour begins
in the green highways of the canopy.

Primates predominate
in the race through the treetops,

dazzling acrobatics on display.

Even the insect-hunting Draco lizard
seems to want to get in on the act‒

covering nearly 200 feet
in a single fantastic leap of faith.

The cause of all this ruckus:

a single tree about to explode
with fruit‒

the strangler fig.

The only one for miles around,
it blossoms just once every two years‒

and only for a few brief weeks.

lts figs‒
fragrant, sweet and nutritious‒

are here for the picking‒

for those who get here
soon enough.

Among the first to arrive
is the slowest‒the orangutan.

This mother and baby
have the tree to themselves

for a rare calm moment...

thanks to mom's mental map.

She knows each tree and its season,
and gets here before the rush.

But their leisurely
monopoly of the tree

is about to come to an end.

Spritely red leaf monkeys arrive
and hurl themselves at the feast.

Long-tailed macaques
vault into fruited branches.

And the true Olympian of the forest
makes a splashy arrival:

the gray gibbon.

This single tree can produce
up to 40,000 figs‒

becoming a hub of mini-migrations
for five miles in any direction.

With so much to eat, the creatures
of the canopy can relax...

and attend to...other matters.

But the bounty cannot last.

Soon the remaining fruit
will spoil on the branch.

So eating becomes
serious business.

The gibbon becomes covetous
of the remaining figs.

The sight of a red leaf monkey
enjoying his breakfast irritates her.

[monkey shrieking]

Frayed nerves are a sign that
the days of plenty are running out.

This stupendous tree
has worked its fleeting magic‒

called together a vast congregation‒

and fed it extravagantly.

Now the creatures in its crown

scramble to get a head start
in the next race.

Once again, they will fly...

leap...

and glide...

until they find the next short but sweet
feast in the Borneo forest.

At the top of the world,
along the coast of Russia's Chukchi Sea,

the exhausted female walruses rest.

Mothers bob in the surf,
sound asleep,

some clutching babies to them.

Sooner or later, though,
they'll need to clamber ashore...

on a beach already packed
with bad-tempered males.

Tentatively, they haul out.

Desperate latecomers
have no choice but to climb.

With 20,000 walruses on the beach,
bodies stretch far up the slopes.

They've reached a critical mass.

Creatures weighing up to two tons

clamber over a heaving sea
of flesh and tusks.

Before finding a spot,

a walrus can travel half a mile
without ever touching the ground.

Bewildered youngsters flounder

amidst the chaos of stray tusks
and raw tonnage

in the mounting crisis.

[walruses barking]

lnevitably, the crush proves deadly.

But now, a sign of hope.

Snow signals the end
of the short Arctic summer.

With winter bearing down
in the far north,

the sea should begin
freezing again.

And the call of the ice frees them
from the deadly beach.

So they pour into the sea, taking up
their migration once again...

following the ice,
for as long as they can.

Out of the blistering salt pans
of Botswana,

the zebras have emerged
into the grasslands‒

but not unscathed.

The foal tries in vain
to rouse his dead mother.

His handsome father is about
to do something startling.

While his harem pushes on,
he lets them go‒

the center of his life,
his reason for being.

lnstead, he gambles on his son‒

but will the son trust him?

A heartrending tug of war begins.

While the motherless son watches,

the father marches up and down
in front of him.

Again and again, the youngster
returns to his dead mother.

But whenever he looks up,
his father resumes his pacing.

lt's a desperate parade
that will go on for hours.

ls he just torn between his son
and his departing mares...

or is there a more astounding
possibility?

The stallion may be trying
to imprint his stripes

over those of the mother's
in the foal's brain.

But time is short.

[hissing]

Finally, the scavengers
decide the issue.

The father herds his son away
from the awful spectacle.

[zebra braying]

The male calls for his harem,

but they have put
many hours and miles

between themselves
and the lost pair.

[braying]

They mingle with straggling strangers
at the end of the line...

curious, but aloof.

No one has ever seen
a female adopt an orphan‒

but perhaps his father
knows better.

[braying]

For better or worse, father and son
have thrown in their lot together.

By sunset, they have caught up
with the body of the herd...

their future uncertain,
but their bond unbreakable.

And so the unlikely pair
soldiers on...

like great nomads the world over...

unflagging and undaunted.

Moving in masses...

Their path is aflame
with sun-fired dust.

But ahead they can smell the richly watered
landscape of the Okavango Delta...

and the pungent aroma of hope.