All language subtitles for Animals.are.Beautiful.People.197

The oldest and driest
desert in the world.

Fifty thousand square miles
of eternally shifting sand.

You'd think nobody
could make a living here.

And yet, when the wind
dies down and the dust settles,

you see a tiny track,
and many more.

No matter how harsh
and inhospitable a place is

there's always someone
who's willing to live there.

A whole community of little creatures
have had millions of years

to adapt to the impossible
conditions in this desert.

This one must have had three legs.

This one, only one.

The beetles who live here

have an air-cooled cooling
system, like a Volkswagen,

so they have to run like
crazy to keep their cool.

Even courting has
to be done on the run.

A quick kiss at full gallop,
and the romance is over.

When you can't run any longer

you have to dig like mad
to get out of the heat.

He goes in upside down.

He doesn't dig.
He just walks right in.

And this one pulls
the blanket over his head.

And the gecko dives in,
as if the sand is water.

This beautiful person has a different
cooling system, more like a Limousine.

She doesn't have to dash around
like those Volkswagen types.

She can take life more slowly.
She even has a wind-shield wiper.

She cleans her eyes with her tongue.

And digging is done at leisure.

First the right hand,
then the right foot, at half speed.

Then the left hand, left foot,

right hand, right foot.

The sidewinder's favourite meal
is the diving gecko.

But geckos play hard-to-get.

So the sidewinder resorts to
a very sneaky trick to catch his prey.

First, he buries himself in the sand
until he is quite invisible.

Then his tail comes up
and pretends to be a blade of grass.

Now, geckos don't
eat grass, but ants do.

And geckos eat ants.

At this point,
things happen rather quickly.

Ant goes for tail,
gecko goes for ant...

End of gecko.

So some die and some live in the heart
of the unearthly Red Namib Desert

in southwest Africa
on the tropic of Capricorn.

And on the hinges of the Red Namib

lives the real miracle
of the desert, the oryx,

the most beautiful
of all antelope.

These amazing animals always manage
to look sleek and well-fed

in this arid region where there
seems to be no food and no water.

The austere beauty of the Namib
remains undisturbed

because man finds the region so
intimidating, he hardly ever intrudes.

But to the oryx and the
little creatures of the Namib

this waterless, hostile desert
is paradise.

Where the red desert ends,
there's a vast white desert

where it's so quiet,
you can hear the silence.

The White Namib...

a region of rugged
moonscapes and endless vistas.

Here the eye can feast
on breathtaking beauty.

But for the mouth,
there seems to be nothing.

Still, oryx roam its boundless plains,

and on the barren slopes
of a desert mountain

you'll find a whole
tribe of baboons

who are quite content to live
in these grim surroundings.

Of course, those rocks
do get rather hard after a while.

Home comforts are few,

but they don't seem to mind
the lack of modern conveniences.

Their social system
works very much like human society.

At the very top, there's the big chief
whose word is law.

And at the very bottom
there's the little guy

who likes to mind
his own business.

Now you know
who's important around here.

Actually, they're a happy gang.

And when it cools down
towards evening, they get playful.

And then the acrobatic types
start showing off.

Some don't do it very well,
but they're willing to work at it.

Trees are very scarce
in the White Namib,

so the little weaverbirds
have learned to share and cooperate.

They build large condominiums
where dozens of families can live

each in its own apartment.

And they go in for quite a variety
of architectural styles:

squat ranch type, complex,

modern, artistic,

high-rise, and even symbolic.

Some nests are more than 100 years old,
and the little tenants

are continually building on,
remodelling and repairing.

A cosy little community
where you can raise a contented family.

But sometimes tragedy strikes.

Once in a long while, a dewdrop
will hang in just the right spot

at the right time, to focus the sun's
rays on the dry, combustible thatch.

In a few minutes, the flames destroy
a hundred years' work,

and bring grief to many families.

The vast White Namib
is only a narrow band

on the map of the immense
African continent,

but it's gradually encroaching
deeper and deeper inland

creating a region of scrubby growth
and very little grass:

the Pre-Namib, where
the dainty springbok roam.

This used to be lush grassland,
but for the past 10,000 years

the Pre-Namib has
been slowly drying out,

and the animals and
plants that live here

have to adapt to a climate
where the rainfall

gets less and less
as the years pass.

Some plants have
adapted magnificently

to the challenge of
the changing climate.

Stapelia flowers, for instance

had to evolve a way of
getting themselves pollinated

in a region where there are no bees.

So instead of emitting
a pretty smell to entice bees

they put out a powerful stench
like a rotting carcass,

and this attracts the blue fly,
who likes smelly meat.

As he scurries about, looking for that
lovely stinking food he can smell,

he does a good job
of pollinating the flower.

When he finally realises he's
been tricked, he flies off in disgust.

But he has done
something useful for once.

In a few short weeks
after the rain

this plant grows quickly to maturity,
bears seeds, and dies.

But even after death,
it protects its seeds

in those strange-looking
pods for a year or more

until the rain comes again.

Then the moisture
causes those dead parts

to move like bizarre living
creatures, and they open up.

And then the moisture triggers
little springs inside the pods.

The seeds are
shot out in a hurry

to germinate and grow
while the soil is still wet,

so they can bear more seeds
to start the next generation.

An incredible variety of animals

have accepted the challenge
of living in the Pre-Namib

where you are never sure whether
it'll rain this year or next year.

The scaly anteater, who looks like
a tired medieval knight in armour.

The warthog, who's
so ugly, he's beautiful,

and who always goes
into his home tail-first.

Porcupines, who should
know better than anyone

not to go through
the same door at the same time.

The scorpion, who carries
her babies on her back.

The chameleon, whose
eyes move independently,

so he can see where he's going
and where he's been.

He must be the only
creature in the world

whose left eye doesn't know
what his right eye is doing.

The dikkop, who spends 95% of his life
looking like a stuffed bird

because he stands so very still
and never blinks.

When he does move
it's only for a split second,

and then he freezes again.

And then there are wildebeest,

and ostrich and starlings,

and zebra and giraffe.

There's a whole treasure house
of animal life

in the wide and thirsty Pre-Namib.

It's also lion country,

and at the water holes
the animals are nervous and skittish.

Even the appearance of a cub
causes sudden panic.

Which, of course, makes Junior
feel mighty superior.

Some days, the animals
will drink quite calmly

in the presence of a whole pride.

They seem to sense that
the lions have eaten well,

and will not be hunting today.

In fact, the king's belly is so full,
it gets up long after he does.

So who's afraid
of a slob like that?

But if one of the younger
generation gets cheeky

that slob suddenly walks
like a king again.

His Majesty knows how to cope
with the generation gap,

and he will make an example
of the young upstart

who has dared to challenge
the establishment.

A long, long stare until the young one
is thoroughly cowed.

And now the young rebel
has to lie down again,

so that the king can come
walking past once more.

And this time he knows he'll be
shown the respect due to him.

He's not even a very
imposing specimen, as lions go,

but he does remember that he's
descended from a long line of kings.

The hyena could have
been king of the desert.

His jaws are stronger
than those of a lion,

and he has those
powerful forequarters,

but nature saw fit to give him
a weak and wobbly rear end,

and a slow, ungainly gait.

So instead of being king of the desert,
he's a lowly trash collector

who lives off the leftovers
of the lion and other hunters.

It's just as well he's not the king,
because he's a real stinker.

He's a coward. He's sneaky.

He often slobbers and drools.

He loves to roll in
the rotting remains

of some dead animal
to mask his own smell.

He has a silly giggle.

And, worst of all, he's not content
to live on garbage alone,

so he'll eat the babies of other
animals when he can get to them.

The faster ones get away because
he's too lazy to exert himself,

but the smaller and slower ones
are in constant danger.

Yellow-billed ducklings
are fortunate

because their mother
is a very clever actress.

She also has great courage.

When she sees a hyena prowling about,
she tells the kids to be quiet,

and walks towards the hyena,

while they start sneaking
away towards the water.

Now she gives a quack
to get the hyena's attention,

and goes into her
wounded-bird act.

She really hams it up because she's got
to keep him from spotting the chicks.

So she flounders about pitifully
to convince him he can catch her easily.

But when he gets too close,
she recovers miraculously,

and streaks for the water.

For a moment, he begins to doubt
the sincerity of her performance,

but she quickly goes into her
next act, the pathetic drowning duck

with all the cries for help, and all
the "glub-glubs" the scene calls for.

So he believes her again
and follows her at his leisure

because he's sure she's easy meat.

And behind his back.
the chicks slip quietly into the water.

This is a crucial moment, because
they have to swim across open water

to get to a safe hiding place,

so she dare not let his attention
wander away from her.

And she has to let him come
dangerously close

to keep him convinced
he can catch her.

When at last the chicks
reach the hiding place

she can consider her own safety,
and make another miraculous recovery.

And he begins to wonder
whether he's been taken for a sucker.

Somehow the scavengers
and the carrion-eaters

are the unbeautiful
people of the desert

not only in looks.
but also in character.

The stuffy-looking marabous

are members of the elegant
and aristocratic stork family,

but thousands of years ago, they
started making their living by disposing

of the remains of dead animals,

and they began to look more and more
like unsuccessful undertakers.

Nowadays, the marabou wears
a threadbare black coat,

and a holier-than-thou expression
on his unlovely face.

They seem to look down their noses
at everyone else,

and always seem to be discussing

the follies and the sinfulness
of the other animals.

The female ostrich
is a dull grey,

but the male is a
handsome devil.

At mating time, the handsome boys flash
their plumage to impress the girls.

And the less good-looking ones
have to fight for their lady loves.

Finally, a loving couple
will find a secluded spot

to do their beautiful
mating dance.

Pretty soon, they start a family.

Actually, he's a better parent
than she is.

And on a hot afternoon, she will join
the rest of the gang at the water hole

leaving him to keep an eye
on the nest.

This is a full-time job,
because each egg is a whole meal,

and there are many freeloaders
in the Namib.

Meanwhile, back at the nest

young Oscar chooses
this moment to get born.

There's no one to welcome him
because Mother is out swimming,

and Father is out
fighting Hottentots.

Oscar feels very lonely,
so he wobbles off to find company.

He is now only two minutes old,
but already he knows about camouflage.

On the morning of his wedding day

the Warthog goes down
to the water hole for a bath

because he wants to look nice
for his bride-to-be.

That's enough.

Meanwhile, the young lady of his choice
moves into his bachelor apartment,

and immediately
starts changing things.

He does a thorough job
of grooming himself today,

and she wants her future home
to be just right.

And when he comes home,
he begins to realise

that you have to make some adjustments
to your lifestyle when you get married.

And there you have

as handsome a couple of young
newly-weds as you can hope to find.

The friendliest and the most
affectionate little creatures

in the desert are the meerkats.

"Sorry, fellow."

They're also most inquisitive,
and when a stranger intrudes

he's received with courtesy
and friendly curiosity.

Even a poisonous cobra
is inspected and invited to be friendly.

An egg is pure frustration.

He knows there's something good
in there, but how do you get to it?

The mongoose looks like the meerkat,
but he's from a different family.

When he finds an egg,
he hikes it to the nearest rock

juggles it into position,
takes a quick sighting, and shoots.

But the meerkat doesn't
have the know-how.

He always digs for his food,

so instinctively, he tries to solve
this problem by digging.

But it doesn't work.

Maybe he can learn
by watching the mongoose.

All right, he'll try that.

That guy makes it look so easy!

But the egg-eater snake

can swallow an egg
10 times as big as his head

without breaking it or his head.

He unhooks his lower jaw
from the rest of his face,

so he can open his mouth wide enough.

At first, the egg keeps slipping away,
and he goes around in circles.

But he has a good reason for that.

Eventually, he has the egg surrounded
so it can't slip away anymore.

And now he can do his trick.

Once the egg is safely inside him,
he crushes it,

and squeezes out all the good stuff
without spilling a drop.

And a few minutes later, he ejects
the shell in a neat, disposable package.

Yuk!

But it you want to swallow eggs whole,
there's no room for teeth in your mouth.

That makes him the most
defenceless snake in the world,

so apparently Mother Nature
has played a nasty trick on him.

But to make up for it,
she painted phony teeth on his lips,

and she taught him to put up
such an act of ferocity

that he can even
intimidate an elephant.

That intricate winding movement
makes him look twice his size,

and lets his scales make an angry
rasping sound as they rub together.

He pretends to strike viciously,
but he has to make sure he misses

otherwise his enemy will find out
that he has no teeth.

But his act is so good
that no one ever calls his bluff,

and everyone believes
he's very dangerous.

In fact, a baboon will eat every creepy
crawly thing he can find under rocks,

but if he should come across
an egg-eater snake

he'll fall down in a dead faint.

And would you believe it, he looks
under the same rock and faints again.

Sometimes he's sorry he got married.
because she's always cleaning house.

He wants a girlfriend,
and that's his way of advertising.

He knows if there's a lady
Tapping Beetle within half a mile

she'll hear him,
and answer back.

So all day and all night,
he taps and listens, taps and listens

because Tapping Beetles
are scarce in this vast area,

and he has a long
and lonely quest ahead of him.

The backfiring beetle doesn't
use his rear end for tapping.

He uses it to defend himself.

His ammunition is a stinging acid,

and he always hits his
enemy right in the eye.

These are only some of the animals
who are at home in the Pre-Namib.

They've accepted the hardships of
the changing planet

and actually seem to enjoy
living in this arid land

where the rain sometimes
stays away for several years.

In the southern part
of the Pre-Namib,

billions of tiny seeds lie waiting for
years in the dust of the desert floor.

When the rain comes at last,
a miraculous transformation happens.

The desert covers itself
in a wall-to-wall carpet,

and an incredible variety
of flowers

celebrate the coming
of the life-giving moisture.

For a few nostalgic weeks,

the Pre-Namib tries
to recapture the glories of the past

when this was a paradise.

But the glory is short-lived.

The sun dehydrates the earth again,
and the flowers return to dust.

But they leave billions
of seeds in the desert soil

because the rain may come again,
and they'll have another festival.

For now, the desert reverts
to unsmiling bleakness,

and those few weeks of colour and
gaiety seem as if they never happened.

There is one spot in the Pre-Namib
that is a year-round paradise

because the mighty Cubango River
comes streaming out of the Tropics.

Unlike other rivers,
it never reaches the sea.

It blunders into the vastness
of the desert and is swallowed up.

But before those millions of gallons of
water finally disappear under the sand

they create a luxuriant subtropical
jungle in the middle of the desert.

A permanent year-round
Garden of Eden,

complete with serpent
and other predators.

The kingfisher pinpoints
his target precisely,

and gets into the exact position
by moving this way and that.

Then he strikes.

Like a fighter pilot, he always dives
with the sun directly behind him

so that his prey
can't see him coming.

At high noon,
he goes straight down.

And later, when the sun is lower,
he comes in at an angle.

Far below the lily pads,

there's another kind of
paradise where life is mostly placid

with some hectic moments.

The bream has as many
as a thousand babies at one time,

and she has a very cute trick
to protect them from predators.

Father keeps a lookout so he can
warn Mother when danger comes.

Old snaggletooth comes
prowling out of his lair,

and Father
nearly throws a fit.

He gives the alarm,

so the kids make a
beeline for Mother,

who promptly swallows them...
the whole thousand.

Whoops, little Wilbur is late.
Snaggletooth attacks once more.

"Hey, Mum, let me in, let me in!"

"Aw, shucks!"

At last the villain gives
up and goes away,

so Dad gives the all-clear,
and Mother spits them out.

Most of the kids are quite happy
to be free again,

but there are always
some insecure sissies

who want to go back inside
where it's safe and warm,

and she cannot
get rid of them.

"Go and play outside."

In the jungles
and on the flood plains

on the banks of the Cubango

nobody needs to work
for a living,

because there's plenty of
water and food for everybody.

There's no day-to-day
struggle for existence,

and the animals enjoy a life
of peace and plenty.

One could wonder why the animals
out there in the surrounding desert

don't coming flocking
to share in this life of luxury.

Here, the trees and plants
bear fruits and seeds and berries

to suit every taste.

The seeds of the tambuti tree
jump and cavort

because inside each one
there's a little worm with the hiccups.

In paradise, even the worms are cute.

And in every tree,

there's a whole parade of
characters from every walk of life.

A lady with her hair in curlers.

A cross between
a zebra and a vacuum cleaner.

A little dachshund.
complete with waggly tail.

A dizzy blonde with a painted face.

And other beautiful people.

A portly old gentleman
in conservative grey.

The hobo.

The poor guy on skid row.

Long-haired hippie.

And the real far-out weirdo
who does his own wild thing.

And, of course, the bloated,
overfed, overdressed slob.

Perhaps he illustrates what's
wrong with living in paradise

because many members
of this affluent society

have become blasé
and bored with life.

Things are just too easy
in the Cubango Basin.

They no longer
have a zest for living

like their country cousins out there
in the inhospitable desert.

Here, life offers no challenge,

and many of them have
become slobs and easy riders.

The only excitement in their lives
comes in high summer

when the marula trees
are in full fruit.

At first, the marulas
are very tasty and hard to get at.

You have to be either agile
or strong to get your share.

But after a few weeks,
the marulas get overripe,

and they start dropping from the trees.

Then all the animals wade in and
gorge themselves on the rotting fruit.

It starts fermenting in their tummies
and turns into a very potent brew.

On the way home,
things start happening to them.

When night falls,
there's peace again.

A very blissful peace.

Of course, not everybody in the Cubango
leads a wasteful life.

Some members of this
too-prosperous society

are still sober
hard-working folk.

The weavers who live here

don't build condominiums
like those in the White Namib.

Each one builds
his own free-swinging nest.

To do that, he has
to perform a small miracle.

He has no hands, only his little beak,
to make all those intricate knots.

So a newly-wed is quite nervous

when he builds his first nest
under the watchful eye of his bride.

When the job is finally done,

he hops onto a twig and timidly
invites his wife to inspect it.

So she flits across and takes a long,
hard look at her future home.

It doesn't look very neat, and she
doesn't even like the neighbourhood.

She's got to raise her kids in this?
"You like it, huh? You like it? Huh?"

She makes a closer inspection,
and subjects the house to testing

to see whether it conforms
to her specifications,

and he's in quite a flutter.

She's not satisfied at all,

and she vents her fury
on his substandard workmanship.

- "You didn't like it, huh?"
- "You bet your life I didn't like it."

He is going to try again,

and this time he chooses the
neighbourhood very carefully.

He's all of a twitter
because she's watching him.

First he has to tie
two twigs together.

But it's not easy.
Those twigs are springy.

Oh, boy, it's not easy.

But if all those others can do it,
he can do it too.

And one day, he'll build
a house that he can be proud of

although he'll still get nervous

when he has to invite his
wife to come and approve it.

The hornbill installs his
wife inside a tree trunk

and seals her up
for three months.

But first he cleans up her cell to make
sure she'll be comfortable in there.

Then he flies off to get
some clay to wall her in.

And she starts undressing.

She plucks out all
her coarser feathers

so she can be soft and cuddly
for the chicks when they hatch.

Without those feathers,
she can't fly.

But she won't be using
her wings for quite a while.

He comes back with a beakful
of clay, and blocks up the entrance,

so she and her chicks
will be safe in there.

He leaves only a narrow slit, the
size and shape for a hornbill's bill,

so he can bring her
food and water

while she lays her
eggs and hatches them.

And then there are
suddenly five mouths to feed,

and Father has to knock himself out
providing for them all.

Throughout the long hot summer,
he's the hardest-working member

of the opulent Cubango community.

To make matters worse,

when the chicks grow bigger
he has to provide a balanced diet.

One day, green stuff with lots of
vitamins. The next day, proteins.

One lucky day, a swarm of proteins
comes buzzing around the nest

saving Dad a lot of labour.

He's quite sorry when they leave.

Oh, well, back to the grind.

The chicks have been taught
not to pollute their own nest,

and their aim is remarkable.

As they grow, it gets
quite crowded in the nursery.

So one fine day, Mother breaks
open the roof, and out they come.

Father feels happy and proud
to see his children at last,

but perhaps he also feels sad
and discarded.

Now they don't need him anymore.

Although warthogs get as smashed

as everybody else
during the annual marula binge

they do lead exemplary lives
for the rest of the year.

Family ties are strong,

and the little ones are really
attached to their mother.

Of course, in every family there
is always one unlucky one.

If there are any knocks coming,
he gets them.

The cheetah is reputed to be
the fastest runner in the world,

and if Mrs. Warthog is not alert,
she can lose some of her family.

But she's quick to sense danger, and
hogs are pretty fast on their feet too.

Each one finds a hole
and pops in tail-first.

Of course, the unlucky one
chooses a hole that's too small

and now he can get
neither in nor out.

Luckless is trapped very far from home.

They say hogs can't count,

but Mother knows that one
of her children is missing.

At last,
the frustrated cheetah goes away.

Mother searches in every hole, and
behind every bush for her missing child.

She cannot rest
before she finds him.

Luckless guesses it's safe
to come out,

and it dawns on him
that he doesn't know the way home.

All night long, Mother keeps
a vigil for her little lost one.

He's never slept alone before,

and in the middle of the night some very
big animals come sniffing around him.

He tries to lie very still
and pretend he's only a stone,

but he's very frightened.

When a baby warthog gets
separated from its mother,

it'll try to find a substitute.

But it's not easy
to get yourself adopted

when you have a face
that only your mother can love.

The only one who's willing to
adopt him is an old rotting log.

He's a very sad little boy.

When a honey badger is young.
his parents abandon him,

and he has to find his own food.

He's not an expert hunter yet.

He'll have to live on worms and grubs
in this land of milk and honey

unless some fairy godmother
comes to his aid.

Incredibly, nature provides just such a
godmother in the shape of a little bird.

For a while,
she only looks on,

as he scratches and digs for the
few scraps of food he can find.

When the time is ripe,
she introduces herself.

At first, he resents this noisy,
fluttering nuisance,

but eventually some deep
instinct makes him realise dimly

that he has to follow her.

So she finally leads him to
the objective: a big fat beehive.

Now all his instincts
come to the surface.

He knows his favourite food is in there,
and nothing is going to stop him now.

His hide is quite impervious
to bee stings.

The only vulnerable
spot is the tip of his nose.

At last, the payoff.

This amazing partnership of the
honey guide bird and the badger

is one of nature's most
intriguing examples

of teamwork between
different species.

He doesn't eat all the loot,
because she's entitled to her share.

Of course, the inhabitants
of the Cubango Basin

don't realise how lucky
they are to be living in such luxury.

To them, this land of plenty
is the whole universe.

They're quite unaware that
their bounteous habitat

is only a small
green world

floating in the vast emptiness
of the Pre-Namib.

The Pre-Namib, again, is dwarfed by its
neighbour on Capricorn, the Kalahari.

This is the most
treacherous desert of all,

because after the short rainy season

it looks like an immense paradise that
can rival the opulence of the Cubango.

The grass is as high
as an elephant's eye.

And while the surface water lasts,
everybody prospers.

At the water holes, there is so much
traffic that all the grass is worn away.

Zebra in their thousands.

Graceful kudu,
the males with beautiful horns,

the females with beautiful ears.

Oryx, who, unlike their cousins in
the Namib, revel in the abundant water.

Ostrich.

The fussy-looking Secretary Bird,
who's very good at short take-offs,

but needs a heck of a long runway
for landing.

The towering giraffe,
who makes the zebra look like toys.

Some years there's even a vast shallow
lake for a short while after the rain

where water birds converge
in great numbers.

The lake covers
8000 square miles,

but it's only a few inches
to a few feet in depth.

And most years,
a great flock of pelicans

establish their breeding colony
in the middle of the lake.

They look stodgy and comical
on the ground, and pompous in the air.

But on water,
they have style and elegance.

They gather in flotillas
to herd the fish into the shallows

where they dip in a graceful ballet
to collect food for their chicks.

But the lake and the many
water holes are impermanent.

Soon the water will sink away
into the Kalahari sand,

and there'll be a long, grim wait
of nine months or more

before the rain comes again.

The only human beings in the
deep Kalahari are a few Bushmen.

They don't live in tribes,
but roam about in small family groups.

The region is so vast that
one family hardly ever meets another.

They must be the most carefree
and contented people in the world

because they own nothing.

In the desert, there's
nothing you can own,

but there's everything
you need.

They're also the most gentle people,
possibly because they've never seen

anything as hard as
a rock or a stone in their lives.

Where they live, there's only sand
and trees and grass and animals.

So their tools are made of
leather or bone or wood.

They never experience
anything harder than wood.

When they find food,
they eat it all at one sitting,

so they have very
expandable stomachs.

When they sleep, their heads
never touch the ground

because there are crawly things in
the sand that can get into their ears.

They dig their elbows into the soft sand
and use their shoulders as pillows.

The children have to have
an intimate understanding

of the animals
around them.

So the elders teach them,
in stereophonic sound, yet!

But somehow the children manage
to listen to two teachers at once.

They are superb mimics,
and they feel a close affinity

with the animals who are
their neighbours and also their food.

The Bushman is a very small man,
and his weapons are puny.

He has to sneak up
very close to his food

because his arrow
can only kill at 30 paces.

The biggest nuisance in his life
is the Go-Away bird

who seems to take pleasure
in sabotaging him.

It'll watch him stalking painstakingly
up to his quarry,

and then tell it to go away.

Such beautiful targets.

When the water holes begin to
grow smaller, the animals get restless.

Soon they'll have to move away, leaving
all that beautiful grass uneaten.

They're loath to leave this
bountiful food supply,

and they'll hang on until
the last of the water disappears.

Fights break out easily.

And when two oryx bulls lose their
tempers the outcome can be fatal.

So the leader of the herd
will try to make peace.

Those horns are like rapiers, and the
oryx use them like expert swordsmen.

The peacemaker's efforts
are not very successful.

He only succeeds in
goading them further.

With a sudden jab, one gets his horn
into position for the fatal thrust.

If he can drive that horn in a few more
inches, he'll go right to the heart.

When things get too hot,
the loser breaks and runs.

He'll live to fight another day.

The smaller water holes dry up first,

but sometimes there's plenty
of water below the sand.

You just have to know where to dig.

But elephants are finicky,
and this water stinks.

The royal family has its own
water supply, and when it runs low

a young female always gets the job
of keeping all the other animals away.

She has to work,
out there on the hot plain

while the rest of the family
take it easy in the shade.

She grew fat and lazy during
the affluent season,

and finds it a very
tedious assignment.

One pesky impala in particular
makes her life a misery.

The strange thing is that the impala
doesn't really need the water.

He can get quite enough moisture
by licking the dew off the grass

in the early morning.

Maybe he gets up too late,

or maybe he just likes to
pester her for the hell of it.

Of course, lion is king only until
elephants make the scene

even if they're only youngsters.

The Bushman is not dependent
on water holes.

His forebears have had thousands
of years to adapt to the Kalahari,

so he needs very little liquid,
and he knows where to find it.

An insignificant-looking
dry twig tells him where to dig.

Anyone else would die
of thirst in a few days

in this treacherous desert
that doesn't look like a desert,

but he can survive for months on end.

He unearths a bulbous root, which is
really just a solid lump of wood

with hard fibres that
are merely damp.

Civilised man would need
some pretty complicated technology,

and machinery to
get water out of it.

But he uses the
very simplest of tools.

His scraper is a stick that has been
split to give it a sharp edge,

and he produces some
dry-looking shavings.

But you take a handful,
point your thumb at your mouth

squeeze very hard...
and wait for it.

The baboons always have
a secret supply of water,

and they're not going to
tell anybody where it is.

And when a Machalahari ventures into
the deep Kalahari on a hunting trip,

he has to find water,

because, unlike the Bushman, he doesn't
know how to make liquid from a root.

But he has his own way of
finding out where the water is.

First, he laboriously drills
a hole in a giant ant heap

when he is sure
a baboon is watching him,

because he knows baboons
are incurably inquisitive.

Next, he puts some wild
melon seeds into the hole,

and works them in so that
they drop into a hollow.

Then he saunters off, knowing the
baboon is burning with curiosity.

The baboon doesn't trust that
human being at all, so he plays it cool.

But he's dying to know what gives
in that confounded hole.

Finally, Mr. Inquisitive
can't take it any longer.

He's got to know what's in there.

He reaches in, grabs a fistful,
and now his hand's too big to come out.

If he had the sense to drop the seeds,
he could free his hand.

Now he lets go when it's too late.

So that was a smart enough way
to catch a baboon,

but he still has to make him talk.

Now, he knows that salt is very scarce
in this particular area,

and that baboon is going to
eat those lumps like candy.

In fact,
he has such a ball eating salt

that he completely
forgets he's under arrest,

and that in a little while he's
going to be a mighty thirsty baboon.

Next morning, the Machalahari
goes to have a closer look

to see whether his prisoner
is ready to talk.

He decides the brainwashing
has worked, so he sets him free

knowing that in his condition
he won't care who follows him

to the secret reservoir.

The Machalahari has no eyes
for the beauty of the setting.

To him, water is beautiful.

Now the water holes have dried up
to only a trickle,

and soon that will
be hard-baked soil.

In a few short weeks,
paradise turns into purgatory.

The merciless sun
scorches down,

and dust devils dance
across the parching earth.

Most of the animals migrate
to other regions,

but some hardy and
some foolhardy ones remain.

And the vultures know that their
prosperous time is approaching.

By this time, the great lake
has dried up completely

into a boundless, white expanse.

Mummified fish lie scattered
on the dry, cracked surface.

Animals migrating across the lake
from the Kalahari

plod through cruel mirages of water
that doesn't splash under their feet,

and they pass phantom trees
that offer no shade.

After days of plodding,
some begin to panic

when there seems to be
no end to the vastness.

Some just give up
and stop walking.

Some years, the drought comes
too soon for the pelicans

who nested in the centre of the lake.

The parents stand around helplessly
as their little black chicks

suffer agonies of hunger
and thirst and heat.

They're almost fully grown,
but are still too young to fly,

so they're trapped in
this boundless desolation.

One little one begins to walk
blindly away into the searing heat,

and his parents can
only look on in despair.

In the first weeks of his life,
this was a bountiful lake.

He cannot understand

how his beautiful world could
change into this pitiless void.

So he walks and walks, hoping in despair
to find his beautiful world again

somewhere in this vast emptiness.

In the evening, cool moist air
comes drifting into the desert,

bringing a promise
of life-giving rain.

In the morning, the clouds are still
streaming into the desert sky,

but the sun burns mercilessly,

and one by one
they shrivel in the searing heat.

A few stragglers survive,

but as they penetrate deeper into
the desert, they too dwindle and fade.

In the end, the parents have to
abandon their chicks,

and fly away to the sea.

And the chicks begin to walk.

They are very weak now,
and the dried-out lake is endless.

It is a death march that
leaves a trail of little bodies,

for mile upon mile on the vastness

until only a pitiful
few are left alive.

Far away from the desert, the clouds
build up into towering masses

as they prepare to invade
the stronghold of the sun once more.

Like a liberating army,
wave after wave of cumulus

surges across the African plains.

Even before they reach the desert,

the sun begins to pound
down on the upper layers,

and it tears great gaps
in the ranks of the invaders.

But when the advance guard reaches the
desert, it is still a formidable force.

It penetrates several
miles into the desert,

and some clouds even discharge
their load of rain.

But the rain never reaches the ground
because the relentless sun evaporates

the water before it can fall
on the thirsting earth.

The invasion loses impetus
under the fury of the sun,

and the clouds are vanquished.

And the surviving chicks wait in vain
for relief from their anguish.

By nightfall, only a few scattered
remnants drift around aimlessly.

During the night,
the clouds regroup their forces.

Great masses move around in the
darkness like vast engines of war

as they manoeuvre into position
for another invasion.

At dawn, they launch
another massive attack.

Again, wave after wave
sweeps towards the desert.

And in the turmoil of a
titanic battle of the elements,

the sun is finally obliterated.

Then there is a great hush.

Strangely,
when deliverance comes at last,

the animals show
no signs of rejoicing.

They merely wait impassively
for the rain to pass.

And after a few minutes, it stops,

abruptly and suddenly.

The thirsty earth soaks up
the long-awaited moisture.

But in the rocky parts, the water
runs off and brings new perils.

The flash floods drain off
as suddenly as they started.

And now the desert can settle down
to enjoy the return of prosperity.

But still the animals show
no sign of rejoicing.

It takes several days before
it dawns on them that

paradise has returned to the desert.

Then their joy of living
comes bursting out.