All language subtitles for A.Wild.Year.On.Earth.S01E03.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-NTb_track3_[eng]

[narrator] Earth
is a restless place.

[Thunder rumbling]

Its seasons driven
by the orbit around our sun.

An epic journey that sets
the rhythms of all life.

Humans honour this passage
through ritual and celebration.

[Fireworks blasting]

Nature marks the cycle
with its own patterns.

Over the course of a year,

the planet's most spectacular
events of migration,

rebirth
and transformation unfold.

[Roaring]

Moment by moment,

month by month,

throughout a wild year on Earth.

The first third of the year
has already passed,

as the Earth continues in
perpetual motion around the sun.

It maintains a steady pace,

hurtling at 107,000 kilometres
an hour through space.

In May,
seasons are in transition.

It's a volatile time.

In the heart of North America,
trouble's brewing.

Late spring is a time
when hot and cold air collide.

[Lightning striking]

Humid air from the tropics

sweeps up the plains
of central United States.

It meets with dry, frigid air
rushing from the Arctic.

This clash creates a superstorm,
whose winds stir
into tornadoes.

[Intense music playing]

Each year,
over a thousand twisters

menace the United States.

[Dramatic music playing]

Although they can occur
throughout the year,

spring is when tornadoes
are at their most mighty.

Thundering across the plains
of North America,

is another force of nature.

Wild mustangs.

Each spring,
they arrive from all directions,

converging at the foot
of the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

They form a mega-herd,
hundreds strong.

[Neighing]

What brings them together
is fresh springtime pasture.

Winter's snow cover
is now lush meltwater,

irrigating thick,
nutritious grass.

For mustangs,

this seasonal feast provides
rocket fuel for breeding.

Females are on heat.

[Neighing]

And bachelors
are feeling extra frisky.

One moves closer to the females,
testosterone racing.

A pretty grey mare
catches his eye.

But standing in his way,
is the stallion.

The bachelor can't suppress
his urges any longer.

The old stallion responds,
and the rivals draw close.

[Battle music playing]

[Battle music continues playing]

Stamping the ground,
the challenger claims victory.

He is now boss.

The old, defeated stallion
is exiled.

He will live out his days
on the fringes,

in the company of the castaways.

The new leader
eyes a young colt,

the son of the old stallion.

He, too, will be exiled
when he reaches maturity.

But for now,
in the plentiful time of spring,

all are welcome
to run with the herd.

As spring advances into summer
in North America,

another turning point approaches
South East Asia.

Indochina is parched.

In this ancient land
of temples and tombs,

many months have passed
with little to no rain.

Heat envelopes the devotees
of ritual and prayer,

as all wait
for the heavens to break.

Falling barometric pressure
and rising humidity

signal the monsoon
is on its way.

Snakes are sensitive
to atmospheric changes.

This is crucial
for the king cobra,

whose life cycle is timed
around the coming rains.

For this queen of the kings,

May and June
are critical months.

She mated just over a month ago
and is now heavy with eggs.

Using the coils of her body
to collect leaves,

she builds a mound.

The rotting leaves
create the perfect humidicrib,

to incubate her eggs
over the coming months.

She must build her leafy tower
high enough,

so it won't be flooded by the
imminent monsoon.

[Thunder striking]

[Growling]

The king cobra
is the only snake species

to build a nest like this.

And she will guard it
ferociously,

come hell or high water.

Above her,
elemental forces stir.

By late May,

the region experiences
the most intense direct sunlight
of the year.

Heat builds, sucking moisture
from the Indian Ocean.

A thick rain band forms,

sweeping across a vast area
from Indochina

to the Indian subcontinent.

This is the largest seasonal
movement of rain on the planet.

The monsoon is here.

[Rain pouring]

The deluge will continue
for four months.

[Rain pouring]

In parts of India,

one metre of rain
can fall in a single day.

Over a billion people,

one sixth of the world's
population,

rely on these rains
for food and economy.

The monsoon is the most dramatic
annual weather event

to shape the lives
of the region's creatures.

In Sri Lanka,

the monsoon revitalizes
the waterways

that carve through
the cloud forest.

Water levels rise.

Ponds swell in size.

There's no better aphrodisiac
for tree frogs.

Not surprisingly,

monsoon triggers
their mating season.

The strapping female attempts
to carry her smaller suitor

to a slippery nest site.

[Chirping]

Spot chosen,
she regains her balance

and excretes sticky proteins,

which her back legs
froth into a lather.

Into this foam ball,
she lays up to 300 eggs,

which the hitchhiker male
eagerly fertilizes.

Their mating is by no means
private.

This tree,
overhanging the perfect pond

is a hotly contested hook-up
place for many other pairs.

Dozens of lusty bachelors

are looking for any opportunity
to join in.

More than one male can fertilize
a foam ball,

so it's always worth a shot.

The couple stays single-mindedly
engrossed with each other,

ignoring the voyeurs.

Half an hour later,
the deed is done.

Left alone, the female extracts
herself from the hardening foam,

a tricky, sticky business.

The ball hardens,

forming a protective casing,

where the eggs will safely
develop for the next week.

Then, mirroring the rain
that inspired their creation,

tiny tadpoles drop
to the awaiting nursery below.

The foam nest falls, too,
providing sustenance

for their magical
metamorphosis into frogs.

It's mission accomplished
for the mother tree frog.

She perfectly timed her work
to the season.

Floodwaters will flush
her progeny far and wide,

as the monsoon rolls onwards.

By June,

the rising floodwaters
present challenges

for the young
and old across Asia.

[Grunting]

[Bellowing]

Every struggle
is monitored from above.

Any drowning is another banquet

for the resident
griffon vultures.

While this vulture species
scans the sodden landscape

for water-softened carrion,

their cousins
on a different continent

do best in the extreme dry.

In stark contrast to Asia,

June is winter in South Africa

and the driest time of year.

Cape vultures are on patrol.

For optimum height and distance,

they rely
on riding the thermals.

In winter,

the sun's intensity weakens
and thermals slacken.

They can't travel as far.

But when it's this dry,
they don't need to.

[Heroic music playing]

Food is everywhere.

Almost no rain has fallen
for two months

and both land
and creatures are stressed.

Each death
summons the aerial undertakers.

This bird of prey never kills.

Instead, vultures rely
on scavenging for food

and affectionately known as
'the clean up crew.'

[Screeching]

Their grisly work is essential
health of the whole ecosystem,

clearing death and disease
with each mouthful.

There aren't many animals

that can scatter
this feeding frenzy.

In the dry,
lions are spoiled for choice.

There's no point wasting energy
on a chase,

when food
is strewn across the plain.

[Roaring]

The vultures can only watch.

And wait for the leftovers.

Finally,

the lions are so bloated they
can barely move. The vultures
pluck up the nerve to reclaim
the table.

One lion's trash
is a vulture's treasure,

and worth fighting for.

[Screeching]

[Dramatic music playing]

The bird's highly acidic
stomachs

are able to digest
skin and sinew.

And bone.

At this time of year,

returning home
with a belly full of bone

is the highest priority of all.

Its calcium strengthens the
vulture's light flight bones

And its minerals
help produce strong eggs.

Which is the most important
thing in May and June.

The peak months

in the cape vulture's
breeding season.

High on the sheer cliffs

of South Africa's
Waterberg Mountains,

dozens of vultures
tend their nests.

Pairs bond for life,

produce one egg each year
and take turns on the nest.

The calories
from the giraffe meal

will sustain this vulture
for days,

as he settles in for his shift.

Which frees his mate to head out
on her own undertaking duty.

Travelling up the central coast
of South Africa,

the dryness endures.

Although winter brings
cooler days,

rainfall is sporadic.

But on the arid Eastern Cape,
an oasis exists.

And the world's largest
land animal,

the African bush elephant,
thrives here.

In the dry season,

drinking and bathing
are both important.

Mud protects against sun
and insects.

Elephant calves
love applying their sunscreen

and can't seem to get enough.

Although quenched,

the elephants need much more
than water to sustain them.

To live in this desert,

they rely on a plant

that has adapted
to life here too.

The prolific bacon tree
is a hardy succulent plant,

whose leaves retain water,
even on the driest of days.

But despite the elephants'
year-long access

to good water and food,

they are still not immune
to the dry season's cruelty.

A young mother signals her loss
to the herd.

She has been standing vigil
for several days,

unable to leave her calf,
even now.

Scavengers give the mother
no chance to grieve.

[Sombre music playing]

[Trumpeting]

Guarding the corpse
may be futile,

but her instinct to stay
is too strong.

She was supposed to raise
her calf for 14 years

and isn't ready to walk away.

[Sombre music playing]

But as the day wears on,

she grows more exhausted.

Something has to give.

[Ominous music playing]

It's said elephant memories
are long.

[Bellowing]

Although she finally leaves
this place,

it's unlikely she will forget
what happened here.

The calf's body
offers life after death

for the other dry season
survivors.

The mother re-joins the herd.

She will live for decades
and have many more calves.

Each time, a little wiser

to the merciless ways
of the dry season.

As May ends,

the Earth approaches
the midway point

on its journey around the sun.

In the southern hemisphere,
days are nearing their shortest.

Ocean currents also respond
to volatile seasonal forces.

Strong winds
in northern Australia

trigger a torrent of water
to rush down the west coast.

In May and June,

the world's longest
boundary current,

the Leeuwin Current,
is at its peak strength.

And rushing to meet it
are Australian salmon.

Tens of thousands of them.

They converge off south Western
Australia to spawn.

Predators follow.

[Inspirational music playing]

Some salmon die.

But their precious larvae
are whisked away by the current

to nursery grounds,
thousands of kilometres away.

On their journey,

they pass by
another underwater spectacle.

Each winter,
as sea temperatures fall,

giant cuttlefish rise
from the depths

to converge in a protected bay
in southern Australia.

It's the only known
mass aggregation

of cuttlefish in the world.

They've come here for courtship.

Cuttlefish speak
through their skin.

The males loudly communicate
their strength in patterns

and colours to attract
the attention of females.

Having made
his attentions clear,

a large alpha male
corrals his chosen female.

He separates her
from the others.

Then escorts her

to a private corner of the reef
to mate,

taking her
in his eight-arm embrace.

She chooses a safe crevice
to lay her fertilized eggs.

Her mate blocks
the entrance to her lair,

guarding both her
and his paternity rights.

His vigilance is justified.

Other males want access
to his female.

One plucky hopeful dives in.

Bad idea.

[Intense music playing]

It's an attack
that would deter most rivals.

But not this one.

He's either desperate to mate,
or a sucker for punishment.

Either way,

the alpha male
has run out of patience.

[Dramatic music playing]

Ink is usually expelled
to confuse predators.

Now, it's a sign of pure panic.

With the rival finally banished,

the alpha male rests easy,

as his female finishes laying,

undisturbed.

Despite all this passion,

neither will experience
parenthood.

At the end
of their breeding season,

both male and female will die.

Their precious progeny will
hatch without supervision,

and make their way back to the
depths of the Southern Ocean,

to await their own signal
to breed.

In mid-June,

the sun's zenith
reaches its most northerly point

on the globe.

The southern hemisphere

is tilted furthest
from the sun's rays,

while the northern hemisphere
is fully exposed.

For 24 hours,

Earth sits
at a magical tipping point.

At dawn of June 21st,

people gather at the ancient
pagan site of Stonehenge

to watch the sun
break through the stones.

In the northern hemisphere,

the year's longest day begins.

The summer solstice.

[Uplifting music playing]

Festivities are celebrated
across Europe.

Fire pays homage to the sun.

And sets alight
the year's shortest night.

[Uplifting music playing]

Near the North Pole,
in the land of the midnight sun,

the summer solstice
means a never-ending day.

When the northern hemisphere
awakens on June 22nd,

it's officially summer.

Across Europe,

long days are filled
with the sound of cicadas.

And in the south of France,

fields of lavender bloom
with the sun's strong rays.

Sun scorches the mediaeval walls
of Carcassonne Castle.

Since the Dark Ages,

this hillside fortress in France
has housed royalty

and hosted war.

Where armies once clashed,

a kestrel now hunts.

In summer,

the grasslands around the castle
are full of seed

and running with rodents.

The kestrel's favourite prey.

If anyone can see them, he can.

He is one of the few birds
of prey capable of hovering.

Hanging suspended in the air,

he holds his head
completely still.

[Intense music playing]

Perfect for lining up
his target.

The kestrel's kill
isn't for him.

He's on a tour of duty

and quickly heads back home
to base.

He's met at the door
and hands over the spoils.

[Chirping]

June is mid-nesting time
for kestrels.

The female remains
with the chicks

until they are two weeks old,

so relies on the male
for home delivery.

He won't stay long.

Duty calls.

The kestrel chicks
need constant food.

So it's back
to the killing fields.

[Triumphant music playing]

Beyond the crumbling castles,

and down in a warming river,

a very different European parent

is also answering
the call of nature.

This female crayfish
is heavy with eggs,

cradling approximately
200 beneath her body.

She mated last winter,

so has carried this weight
for six months.

Now, season helps her
complete the task.

June's warmer water

speeds up the development
of the eggs.

Exhausted,

all she needs to do now
is wait and stay hidden.

Her river
is in racoon territory.

Racoons were introduced
from North America,

and they love dining
on European crayfish.

The crayfish larvae
hatch in unison

and remain attached
via tiny stalks.

Over two weeks,

the youngsters moult,
detach from Mum and drift away.

Finally unencumbered,

the depleted mother
is free to rest,

forage and rebuild her strength.

But she doesn't get a chance.

The racoon detects her presence,

using his most powerful sense.

Touch.

The crayfish has sight
and flight on her side,

but the invader persists.

The crayfish uses claws
to defend herself,

but the racoon has claws, too.

As the mother is devoured,

her hatchlings scatter.

They may live for 20 years,

so will fight many a battle
of their own in future summers.

By late June,

summertime has embraced
much of the northern hemisphere.

At the equator,

the wet season
has left its mark.

In the Llanos of Colombia,

the landscape
is more water than earth.

And the nesting trees
of egrets are islands.

The birds are nearing the end
of their breeding season,

and still wear
their fancy seasonal plumage.

The seasonal flood helps these
fish eaters with parenting.

More fish,
right on the doorstep.

Predators, too.

Caimans are cousins
of the alligator,

and normally fish eaters.

But in the wet season,

they turn their sights skyward.

Stirring their appetites
are the clumsy antics

of the fledgling egrets.

They are four weeks old.

And preparing
for their first flight.

But if they can't go up,
they risk falling down.

[Dramatic music playing]

It's a welcome change of diet
for the caimans

and they can't get enough of it.

[Dramatic music playing]

Whether a fallen chick survives,

is up to willpower
and pure luck.

It's a rare miss for the caiman.

And a heart-stopping start
at life for the escapee.

June comes to an end.

The volatility
of the past two months

is etched in the skies.

A time of seasonal gear-shifting
and unpredictable forces.

The planet reaches the mid-point

in its annual voyage
around the sun.

And completes the first half
of the human calendar year.

The second half promises to be
just as wild a ride

in this wild year on Earth.