All language subtitles for BBC.Earths.Great.Rivers.Series.1.3of3.Mississippi.720p.HDTV.x264.AAC.MVGroup.org

Earth's great rivers...

..from source to sea...

..make extraordinary journeys.

Carving through continents...

..nurturing ancient civilisations...

..feeding and connecting
life across our world.

From the mountains and deserts
of the Nile...

..to the cities and mysterious
swamps of the Mississippi...

..and the steaming waters and secret
worlds of the tropical Amazon.

Great rivers are the lifeblood
of Planet Earth.

The massive, muddy Mississippi.

The heart and soul of
America's Deep South.

The river has inspired writers
and musicians for generations.

It's the familiar face
of the Mississippi,

known the world over.

Yet this is, in fact,
just the last stretch of a truly

vast river system.

The Mississippi is an enormous
network of waterways.

It reaches into 31 states,

gathering water from nearly
half of the USA.

From unexpected beginnings
in remote mountain streams,

winding tributaries sweep
across open prairie.

Hundreds of rivers,
coming together as one...

..linking animals and people
across thousands of miles.

Nothing connects and unites
the states of America

like the Mississippi River.

Most of the Mississippi's water
comes from across a 1,500 mile

wide swathe of the northern
United States,

bordered by mountains.

The Mississippi's longest
tributary begins here,

in the north-west,

amongst the towering Rockies of
Wyoming, over 3,500 miles upstream.

Winter here can last
for five months.

Right now, billions of tonnes
of water are trapped

as ice and snow.

In summer, this is
a fast-flowing torrent.

But, for now, the otters and other
animals who depend on it must search

for holes in the ice
to allow them to fish.

But some choose to come
to the Rockies to experience

the frozen headwaters
of the Mississippi.

For climbers, there is no greater
challenge than scaling a sheer

wall of ice.

You're basically chasing
a hidden treasure...

..that somebody told
you was up in the hills.

And every once in a while,
you actually get to find it.

For Aaron Mulkey, one of the most
experienced ice climbers

in the world, winter is his
favourite time of year.

Here, the Mississippi
is suspended in the form

of towering, frozen waterfalls.

These provide some of the best ice
climbing in the whole of the USA.

I don't think people ever
really imagine these things

would ever freeze.

100, 200 foot, massive,

just a spectacular chunk of ice.

And sort of crazy to think that, you
know, when you're chopping away,

ice climbing at these things,

that that water may end up in
the Gulf of Mexico at some point.

Every one of these frozen
waterfalls is unique.

They never form the same way twice.

These waterfalls are
very much alive, you know.

You're watching them
with the little trickle of water.

They're constantly
moving and shifting.

You can hear the ice crack
and sometimes shift.

Some of those noises are OK.

Some of them are much
more concerning.

ICE SHATTERS

Ice!

Ice climbing is pretty unique.

You know, if you go rock climbing,
it's there, it's always

going to be there, but ice is there
one day and gone tomorrow.

For now, though, this whole
landscape is frozen.

But no matter how cold it gets,
a few streams here in the Rockies

throw the local wildlife
a year-round lifeline.

Yellowstone National Park's steaming
geysers spew out boiling water

into the middle of this
icebound wilderness...

..keeping precious streams
flowing through the snow.

The Madison River,

a remote tributary
of the Mississippi.

Despite the air sometimes
dropping to 40 below,

the river never freezes over.

Winter is especially hard
for Yellowstone's coyotes,

endlessly searching
for something to eat.

A few have learned that
this particular river

holds a potential meal.

Fishing doesn't come
naturally to coyotes.

But it's a skill this female
is determined to master.

The wetter she gets,

the greater the risk of hypothermia.

But after four hours
of enduring the bitter cold

and catching nothing...

Finally, a half-metre-long
rainbow trout.

She's one of the only coyotes
in the world who's learned

to fish this way.

And it's only possible
thanks to the steaming waters

of this unique
Mississippi headwater.

All across the frozen north,
the season starts to change.

In the mountains, the spring melt
sometimes doesn't happen

until as late as June.

Slowly, the temperatures rise...

..and the thaw begins.

The headwaters of the Mississippi
are finally unleashed.

Billions of tonnes of
water are on the move.

They can engulf everything
in their path.

This dramatic transformation marks
the annual reawakening of life

across the Mississippi.

Nowhere is this more true
than in the Appalachian Mountains,

1,500 miles east of the Rockies,

on the other side of the continent.

Here, in Tennessee and Virginia,

upland streams are a haven
for an incredible variety of life.

Hellbenders, a rare species
of salamander that can grow

to over 60 centimetres long.

Huge shoals of fish,

like these buffalo suckers,

mass to spawn.

While on the river beds,

chub build stony nests
to protect their eggs.

But one group of animals has
come up with an astonishing way

of giving their young
the best possible start.

Freshwater mussels.

During the breeding season,
part of the mantle which runs

along the edges of
their shell is unfurled.

It begins to resemble a small fish
swimming in the current.

A small fish that larger
fish might want to eat.

Hidden inside these lures are sacs
containing thousands

of tiny mussel larvae.

To disperse and find a new home,

the larvae need to latch
onto the gills of a large fish.

For this to happen,
the adult mussels need to trick

a fish into biting their lure.

The larvae clamp on and begin
to suck nutrients from

the fish's blood.

They will hitch a ride on
the fish's gills for a few weeks

before finally dropping off.

The fish unwittingly
spread the young mussels

up and down the river bed.

Surely, one of the most
extraordinary parenting strategies

on Earth.

The rising waters of spring provide
opportunities for many river

creatures right across the north.

But, for others,
the spring melt is not so welcome.

Beavers are found throughout
the Mississippi Basin.

They build dams to create a watery
moat around their homes,

which protects them from predators
that could attack from the land.

Inside their homes, known as lodges,

adults and their kits
stay safe and warm.

But their peace is
about to be shattered.

The beavers can hear
there's a problem.

Researchers have found
that the sound of running water

is something that beavers
are simply unable to ignore.

The sound means their precious dams
are in danger of being swept away

by the swelling streams.

Their moats could drain away,

leaving their lodges high and dry
and at risk from predators.

The beavers must gnaw,
drag and pack as much fresh material

into the dams as they can,

to try and staunch the flow.

Beavers spend their whole lives
trying to block the river.

But in the end,

the river always wins.

Humans have also tried
to control the powerful waters

of the Mississippi's tributaries.

Building dams like these
in the foothills of the Rockies.

Many are used to store
meltwater for irrigation

in the dry summer months.

But not even these 100 metre high
walls can entirely contain

the Mississippi's water
on its journey downstream.

Damming rivers disrupts
their natural flow.

But here, Marsh Lake in Minnesota,
nearly 1,000 miles downstream

from the Rockies, it's created
an unexpected opportunity for some.

American white pelicans.

They arrive here each spring
on three metre wingspans.

Some of them have flown over 2,000
miles just to get here.

Their nests are protected from
predators by the surrounding waters.

22,000 of them
cram onto the islands.

As a sign that they're ready
to breed, both males and females

grow a special horn on their bills,

which drops off after their eggs
have been laid.

But Marsh Lake's dam offers
more than protection.

It forces migrating fish to pass
through a narrow gap,

concentrating them all in one place.

And pelicans are famed
for their appetite.

Some of the carp funnelled across
the dam can be over a metre long.

But when one pelican finds
more suitably sized fish...

..it's the cue for them
all to pile in.

MUSIC: The Barber of Seville
Overture by Rossini

The bonanza provides a welcome meal
for the hungry chicks.

After their young have fledged,

these pelicans will leave.

They'll fly towards the main
channel of the Mississippi River,

using it to help navigate
on their long journey south.

As they leave its wild, upper
reaches, the Mississippi's

tributaries begin to funnel
into the main channel.

Here, around 2,000 miles
from the river's mouth,

the Mississippi passes into the
farming heartland of the USA.

92% of America's agricultural
exports are produced

within the Mississippi Basin.

States like Iowa, Illinois,
Wisconsin, growing everything

from grain to soybeans
to cranberries.

Wisconsin produces over half
the world's cranberries.

Historically, this industry relied
on the Mississippi's water.

When the fruit is ripe,
the fields are deliberately flooded.

The cranberries float to the top,

ready to be skimmed off the surface
and exported across the globe.

The central stretch
of the Mississippi helps to feed

the entire nation and is a fertile
home for wildlife, too.

Each year, around the 4th of July,

tiny insects put on an amazing show.

Mayflies.

Their nymphs have lived on
the riverbed for up to two years,

slowly maturing, preparing to sprout
wings and take to the air together.

Millions emerge simultaneously,
in swarms so big, they can be seen

on weather radar.

But their independence
from the river is short lived.

They emerge simply to mate,

after which the females must return
to lay their eggs.

Just two days after
they first appeared,

the final, spectacular stage
of their life will be over.

Mayflies have risen from the river
since long before people

settled here.

But those that emerge today
are surrounded by the modern face

of the Mississippi.

This central stretch is the steepest
section of the main river channel.

To keep the waters deep
enough for transport,

giant locks and dams
have been built right across it.

What was once a wild,
rushing river

has become a huge, sluggish canal.

Today, an endless stream of massive
barges move millions of tonnes

of the nation's produce
up and down the length

of the country.

Whole communities live and rely

on the industrialised Mississippi,

including captain John Hill Gardner.

All these people are dependent
on the river for their livelihood.

We all have a living
and it gives us a living.

The hours are long. The work's hard.

When you come back,

it's like you're coming back
to your home.

It's just a way of life.

Fed by trade on the river,

bustling cities have grown
up all along its banks.

Halfway down the Mississippi,
St Louis was built where the longest

of the river's tributaries, the
Missouri, joins the main channel.

Grain is trucked here
from across the central USA,

destined for the rest of the world.

On the river, tugboat captains
wrangle huge, empty barges.

A single barge can carry
1,500 tonnes of grain or soy.

Once loading is finished,

the barges are shuffled together
in giant flotillas.

Each one can cover the area
of four football pitches

and be over 350 metres long.

Thanks to the river's help,
the whole flotilla can be pushed

by a single boat, hauling
as much cargo in one journey

as over 2,500 trucks.

A boat trip down the Mississippi
is nearly 2,000 miles long.

It can take two weeks
and requires concentration,

experience and stamina.

We work out here in
a nonstop operation.

It goes 24/7, 365 days a year.

We work six hours on, six hours off,

for a month at a time.

Searchlights guide the boats
along the river.

Steering these giants
through the locks becomes even

trickier at night.

Five hours and 59 minutes of sheer
boredom, then you've got 60 seconds

of sheer terror, because you come
down on a bridge or something

like that, you're not
quite shaped up for it,

hoping you get through
with your bad spot.

The equivalent of 49 million
truckloads of goods are transported

on the Mississippi every year.

It's become a vast
and hectic motorway,

bringing cargo from across
the country and carrying it south

to the coast.

As the river reaches the last
1,000 miles of its journey,

its character changes.

It widens, slows and begins to flow
through a vast natural flood plain.

Massive, meandering detours
and shifting sandbanks mark

the beginning of the lower
Mississippi, as it enters

the Deep South.

River guide John Ruskey
has paddled this iconic section

of the Mississippi
for over 35 years.

When we flow out of
the cities and civilisation,

the land immediately becomes wild.

The place where the big water
meets the big forest,

underneath the big sky.

Because the landscape here is so
flat, when the river is swollen

by heavy rain or spring meltwater,

it regularly bursts
its natural banks.

Over time, this flooding has helped
create a vast labyrinth

of interconnected backwaters,
lakes and swamps.

When you leave the main channel
of the Mississippi and paddle into

the cypress swamps, it's like
entering a whole new world.

You get this feeling that the river
is getting lost as it meanders

into the belly of some
mysterious, giant wilderness.

The Atchafalaya.

The largest swamp in the USA.

Over 2,000 square miles.

Much is flooded forest.

Huge swamp cypress trees,
draped in Spanish moss.

Historically, the river just
flooded everywhere across this,

at times, 100-mile-wide flood plain,
and all these nutrients

that the river's carrying
from the Rocky Mountains

to the Appalachia
are all concentrated,

and as a result, these hardwood
forests became the richest forests

in North America.

Here, in the waterlogged south,

beavers worry less about fast
flowing torrents washing dams away

and more about predators
hiding beneath the surface.

The swamps are also home to
a vast array of other wildlife.

Egrets.

Herons.

And roseate spoonbills.

White ibis and anole lizards.

The swamp remains
a haven for wildlife.

It is one of the few remaining
wild places that's as wild as parts

of Alaska or the Rocky Mountains.

In early autumn, the swamp echoes
with the endearing squeaks

of the young of one of its most
famous and most feared predators.

Baby alligators...

SQUEAKING

..only recently hatched
from their eggs.

Despite only being around
15 centimetres long,

they're already equipped to take
on anything that they can wrap

their jaws around.

But, at this size, they can easily
become a meal themselves.

Many around here would
snap up a baby gator,

including great egrets,
up to a metre tall.

But everyone must keep
an eye out for Mum.

Nearly three metres long,
she lies in wait, listening

to her baby's squeaks,

ready to attack anything
that comes too close.

The youngsters can bask in safety,
under her protective gaze.

The Atchafalaya is just a fragment
of what was once a much larger

network of Mississippi swamps,

originally five times
the size they are today.

Over the last 150 years,
much of the fertile flood plain

has been cleared and drained
to make way for farms and cities.

New Orleans, the final big city
before the river meets the sea.

Originally, all this was swamp.

And today, parts of the city
are over seven metres

below the river's
highest water level.

It's become a never-ending battle
to hold the river back.

1,600 miles of levees
have been constructed,

hemming in 80% of the lower
Mississippi, yet the flood defences

have been repeatedly breached
by the stubborn river.

Each time, people have
rebuilt the barriers,

taller and stronger.

And where the water can't be held
back, people have simply built

over the top of it.

The three longest bridges in the USA
have been constructed

above these Mississippi wetlands.

Lake Pontchartrain Causeway,
nearly 24 miles long,

the biggest of them all.

It leads across a vast,
swampy lagoon into the centre

of New Orleans.

Down here, a 16-mile stretch
of the river has been turned

into the largest port
in the Western Hemisphere.

The cargo carried on the barges
is transferred to huge

ocean-going ships.

The massive vessels steam
through the final hundred miles

of wetlands on their way out to sea
and around the world.

This is the last stage
of the Mississippi's long journey.

A marshy delta of islands,
channels and beaches which form

the final boundary between
the land and the ocean.

It covers an area of over 11,000
square miles and is a rich fishing

ground - a draw for both
people and wildlife.

White pelicans, many the same
individuals that bred at the other

end of the Mississippi,
have migrated here to take advantage

of the subtropical climate
of the Gulf of Mexico.

Reddish egrets -
a southern wetland specialist.

Once pushed to the brink of
extinction for their crest feathers,

they are now making a comeback.

In the muddy waters,

small fish can be hard to spot.

When an egret does manage
to find one, it doesn't let

it out of its sight.

SWAMP BLUES MUSIC

That one's got away.

All the dashing around
was worth it in the end.

This entire landscape
was formed by the Mississippi,

which picked up soil
from across America

and deposited it here.

But it's now at risk
of disappearing beneath the waves.

To tell the story of these wetlands,
local photographer

and conservationist Ben Depp
learned to paramotor.

The landscape is totally flat,

and the only way to get perspective
is to go up in the air.

This whole landscape,
hundreds of miles of wetlands,

were created from
the Mississippi River.

This land is dirt from a soybean
field in Iowa and a cornfield

in Ohio, a mountainside in Montana,
and it's an incredible thought

that that sediment is being carried
all the way down the Mississippi

River and is washing into wetlands
here and building new land.

These coastal wetlands may be huge,

but what people have done to the
Mississippi has had effects

that few could have foreseen.

The landscape here is naturally
in a state of change.

The river spreads and slows,
depositing sediment,

which builds new land.

The ocean currents then
try to wash it away.

Historically, the Mississippi
has always won this contest,

gradually forming this,

one of the largest deltas
in the world.

But the balance between
sedimentation and erosion

has been changed.

The flood defences that line
the lower Mississippi mean

that the river can no longer

spread out to rebuild the wetlands,

and land is now being lost at the
rate of a football pitch every hour.

Everywhere you look,

you can see what we've done
to this landscape.

I think we didn't understand
what we were doing,

and now we understand
that we've really messed up

those natural systems.

Over the last 80 years,

we've lost
2,000 square miles of land.

Coastal wetlands help protect cities
like New Orleans from storm surges

caused by hurricanes.

As the wetlands disappear,

hurricane damage becomes
much worse inland.

We need to change our perspective,
and we need to prioritise

these things that are going to help
us continue living here long term.

Now, work is taking place to reverse
this massive land loss.

Sediment is being pumped and
diverted to replenish the marshes,

and sand is being dredged from
the ocean to rebuild protective

barrier islands.

It's a constant battle
against tide and wind,

but already over 55 square miles
of land have been restored

or protected,
and much more is planned.

Down here, at the end
of the river's journey,

people are now forced to spend
billions trying to do what the river

once did entirely by itself.

Throughout the Mississippi's
enormous reach, stretching

the length of this huge country,

animals rely on its natural riches.

And for centuries, people have
exploited its vast scale

to connect, enrich and unite
the states of America.

The river is, and always has been,

a powerful and untameable giant.

The massive, muddy Mississippi

remains the lifeblood
of this nation.

The huge Mississippi Basin
encompasses a vast range

of habitats, from frozen mountains
to subtropical marshes.

But it was here,
in the swamps of Louisiana,

that cameraman Doug Gardner
was most excited about filming.

I was born in South Carolina
and raised in the heart

of the swamps, and pretty
much I'm a swamp rat.

But, you know what,
I don't apologise for it,

it's the place
that I absolutely love.

Generally, people think
of a swamp as a nasty,

dirty place, and, for me, I see
it as one of the most special

ecosystems that our
planet has to offer.

The Atchafalaya is the biggest
swamp in North America.

Doug is here to find baby
alligators, but getting

past their enormous
mother won't be easy.

I think alligators
are amazing animals,

and I'd never had a chance
to actually film a mother

with babies, so I was really excited
about getting out here.

Louisiana has the largest alligator
population in North America -

nearly 2 million of them.

But actually finding them
in this flooded labyrinth

is not easy.

I'm pretty used to working
in swamps, but I wasn't expecting

the Louisiana swamp mud
to be as deep as it is.

Getting my steps in today!

The only difference is that
one of these steps equals

about 400 regular steps.

I don't want to put my foot
in an alligator's mouth,

cos often they will
just lie on the bottom.

One of the main things,
you've got to keep moving.

You can't just say,

"Oh, I'm freaking out
because I'm bogging down."

If you stand still,
you're going to sink even deeper.

A lot of times, you use
sticks to get around.

One thing about this mud,
it absolutely stinks.

It's such a vast area,
and we had a lot of ground to cover.

It was tough going.

Rather than struggling
through the quagmire,

Doug opts for a more comfortable
form of transportation.

The deeper we ventured into the
swamp, the thicker the vegetation

got, and to be honest with you,

my eyes really started to play
tricks on me at that point.

There, there! No, that's a frog.

But then a sign - the telltale
calls of baby alligators.

SQUEAKING

We can hear them, but I can't...

I can't pinpoint them yet.

They're so well camouflaged.

I was about to quit for the day,
and I heard all this commotion

behind me, and I really wasn't
prepared for what I was

about to see.

Mother alligators will attack
anything that gets close

to their brood - even another gator.

I just grabbed the nearest camera

and started filming
the best I could.

The mother alligator has got
another, small alligator

in her mouth.

She's just...
She's trying to eat it.

Trying to get this, sorry about
the shake, there's a leg.

Even though the alligator
was smaller than the mother,

it was still quite big enough
to pose a threat to the babies.

There you go.

You know, a lot of times,
I forget just how unpredictable

nature can be.

The babies must be nearby,
but with the light fading fast

and a two-hour boat ride back,
Doug can't hang around.

Nope.

After a long day of searching
and trudging through the swamp,

the last thing I want to do is break
down in the middle of nowhere.

The motor has overheated.

The water where we broke
down really wasn't that deep,

but considering what I'd just
witnessed 30 minutes earlier,

I wasn't about to get
in the water and push.

So, Doug's only real choice
was to stay on board

and paddle instead.

We have seen quite a few alligators
as soon as the sun went down,

so that's a little unnerving.

I hear things in the water
all around me.

And then, a light in the distance.

You know, there's this code
when you're out on the water.

If you see somebody that needs help,
you stop and help them,

because one day - I assure you -
you're going to need help.

Any way you can pull us
up there to the landing? Yeah.

All right, man, appreciate it.

I'm feeling quite relieved now.

Hey, thanks, bud, have a goodnight.

It's always an adventure.

Something was bound to happen today,
because it is Friday the 13th.

And a black cat ran in front
of me at the hotel,

so that's double jinxing.

A new day, and Doug decides
to return to the same spot

where he heard the baby alligators.

Already, things are looking up.

I see a fresh slide,

it looks like she has been going
up the bank.

Now, gators like to bask in the sun
on the banks until their body warms

up, and then they'll just
slide into the water.

And that slide looked
very fresh to me.

And what I was hoping was that,
if I could spot her,

then maybe she would
lead me to her babies.

Doug is confident that mum is nearby

so takes position at what he hopes
is a safe distance.

I don't know that she is in there,
but I'm hoping she is.

I know the babies are back there,
cos I can hear 'em.

I've done everything
I can to try to alleviate

all the odds, being attacked
by an alligator, and I think

that this log will give me some
protection if a gator came up at me

and lunged out of the water.

But you're not going to go anywhere
real fast in waders and in mud.

OK, I see momma,
here's momma right here.

Finally, I spotted the mother
coming across the canal,

and she looked like she was
coming straight at me.

But, thankfully, you know,
I wasn't close enough to her young

that she considered me a threat,

so she just turned around
and went back.

I could feel her eyes
on me all the time.

I think I see where they are.

As if by magic, she just
led me right to them,

right where she had been
hiding them all along,

and now I see why they were so hard
to find, because they are so well

camouflaged, they blend into
everything in their surroundings.

Despite everything the swamp
has thrown at him,

Doug can finally capture an intimate
view of these tiny predators.

You've got to look careful.

They have black,
brown and yellow on them,

and everything out here
has the same colours.

These babies will grow up in one
of the most mysterious and exotic

regions found anywhere in the USA.

The Atchafalaya is just
teeming with wildlife,

and it's full of surprises.

And, you know, that's
the reason I love it here,

that's the reason I'll keep coming
back here time and time again.