Original subtitles

Five tiny male cubs, just a few weeks old.

Destined to be mighty hunters in the Masai Mara.

Years later, driven mad by hunger.

The strongest male kills one of his sisters.

Violence is ever-present in their lives.

The five brothers take over a pride.

Family relations are never simple.

The annual wildebeest migration eases their hunger.

But here

nothing comes easy.

At four years old, five brothers

patrol their territory in the Mara Reserve.

This is Olomina.

A leg wound when young left him with a limp.

Olosiadu:

cautious,

quiet,

reserved.

Lorkulup.

A hoof broke his nose.

Now it never stops running.

The hunter.

Orpadan.

Always out in front. First at the prey. A true fighter.

Beside him:

Oloborr.

Sibling-killer. Unchallenged clan chief.

Aggressive, ruthless, reckless.

The Mara reserve is in Kenya, along its border with Tanzania.

It's the northern extension of the Serengeti.

This is where the five brothers have settled

after years of wandering:

the narrow Rongai River.

Now, at the end of June, there are few prey animals here,

except buffalo.

Oloborr, the chief, has almost recovered

from a mauling by neighbouring males.

With Orpadan, he shadows the buffalo herd,

looking for isolated animals.

If the buffalo stay close together,

the lions will never reach the weaker calves.

After hours of waiting,

they try a fake attack to scatter the herd.

But the buffalo know what to do.

They turn the tables.

It's a tough time for the lions.

Hardly any prey animals worth pursuing, apart from the buffalo.

The five brothers command a territory

that belongs to three lionesses,

who themselves wrested it from other lionesses,

defending it for years against female competition.

They are the actual owners.

The males only maintain their claim on the females

and keep other males at bay.

That's what they need their mass and their muscles for.

As hunters, they're really only effective

against bigger and slower prey.

June brings the first zebra herds into their territory.

For them, the tough, tall grass is perfect.

They're a welcome sight, and now the new lion lords

are more than happy to defer to their ladies.

At last, an alternative to the dangerous buffalo.

The slight, streamlined lionesses

are far more agile than the bulky males.

So it's not just laziness when the males

leave this kind of work to the females.

Even in the long grass it would be hard

for a fully-grown male to creep up on the prey.

A lioness sneaks to within meters of an unsuspecting zebra.

About ten meters, perfect range for a surprise attack.

And the zebra has absolutely no idea.

The females aren't just doing the work.

They're taking the risks, too.

Accurate kicks break bones.

The black-shouldered kites have seen it all before.

They have something else on their mind.

This couple have only just come together.

In this first phase of courtship, aerobatics are a display of fitness.

As each seeks a partner to bring up a family.

In June, fires blaze through the grassland.

They were started by Park Rangers,

to burn up the tough, stringy grass and encourage fresh, new growth.

Still damp at this time of year,

the vegetation releases great clouds of smoke and steam.

When fires are set responsibly, there's little damage to the land.

In fact, they make for better grazing,

at least for a while.

But at the same time it's a gamble.

New growth only appears if new rains come on time.

When the rains are late it's hard for the herbivores.

Then, square kilometers of earth are covered in ash,

and there's no food, for anyone.

When the buffalo move on, the lions must follow their prey.

In a situation like this the choice is unattractive:

starve where they are ...

... or risk trespassing on others territory.

The serval, too, has a problem:

even hunting mice is difficult in these conditions.

Everyone is waiting for the rains.

As soon as they come, the first shoots force their way up

between the red-scorched ebony bushes.

The land transforms into a patchwork:

Newly verdant burned areas, next to yellow fields

the fires, often halted by a brook, couldn't reach.

Life on the unburned parts continues as usual.

For the serval family, long grass is especially important.

The mother finds mice here. And the young cover from predators.

An old tree like this is a wonderful climbing frame.

The cubs are very exposed,

but they can disappear in an instant down below.

And their mother can return to stalking mice, without worries.

And these neighbours are no problem anyway.

Dry, fibrous grass may be useless to most herbivores,

but the mother serval finds exactly what she needs.

Her young will have enough milk, now.

For weeks, the territory the five brothers took over is bare.

They don't mind.

They're busy befriending the three females

they won with the territory.

New relationships take time.

Oloborr's excursion to neighbouring territory

was six months ago.

His wounds have healed, with just a few scars.

But the attack seems to have damaged his testicles.

He is less interested in mating than before.

He leaves the females to his brothers.

He's still closest to Orpadan.

They patrol together, leaving hundreds of scent marks

to deter interlopers.

Inside the territory there are still half-brothers and sisters

their mothers left behind when they departed.

It's July 2021.

Four of these adolescent half-siblings

still live here along the Rongai River:

two males and two females.

They avoid their older brothers, who ignore them too.

They scratch along with small kills, and by scavenging other's prey.

They're too young to challenge a fully-grown buffalo.

That doesn't mean they won't try.

It'll take a little while yet.

Oh, never mind.

The two females have a crack at a warthog.

That's not so easy, either.

There's good cover for the chase.

But it's hard to run down a nimble hog in tall grass.

Hungry times.

But relief is on its way, from the south,

across the border in the Serengeti.

It's now late July. On the far side of the Sand River,

the long-awaited columns finally appear:

the wildebeest migration is at the Kenyan border.

Endless columns, hundreds of thousands of wildebeest,

streaming into the Masai Mara Reserve.

It's an astonishing sight.

But since the early 2,000s, numbers seem to have dropped.

Conservationists worry.

Because they have no reliable figures.

It's been more than a decade since Tanzania released census statistics.

Those figures are really needed now.

Because climate change

and the growing human population around the Serengeti

are putting pressure on the park.

Wildebeest are the keystone species of the grasslands.

All the great carnivores depend on them.

The trek through the Serengeti’s ecosystem

is the last great animal migration on Earth.

A huge tourism industry depends on these numbers.

This is the high season in the Masai Mara.

And yet, only one third of the wildebeest

actually cross the border.

Twice as many stay on Tanzania's side.

Climate change, heavier rainfall in the south,

may mean they no longer have to move here for food.

Most lions are tied to their territory.

Few will follow the wildebeest: only the so-called nomads,

with no fixed territory, continuously pursue the herds.

This means local predators like the five brothers

now face little incoming competition.

The sudden abundance is theirs alone.

That means a couple of carefree months.

Lions prefer to hunt where the fires haven't reached,

and the high grass conceals them.

But wildebeest don't like eating it, and they don't linger.

So the best hunting is in the first weeks of the migration.

The lions get straight down to it.

Wildebeest, though, are not quite the passive, clumsy victims.

They have a real a turn of speed.

They know how to deal with lions.

Overall, they're well equipped to handle the trials of life.

They're the most successful species of this ecosystem, by far.

The northern Serengeti

is wetter than the grazing lands further south.

Many streams and rivers eroded the Mara region,

leaving rolling country, with dips and valleys.

It's is dangerous terrain for herbivores.

Big cats are more than comfortable in its deceptive contours.

To use the full resources of the Mara region,

the herds must cross a number of rivers

flanked with gallery forest and bushland.

Wildebeest are built for all terrains.

These are no obstacles.

But the crowds and the confusing landscape

let predators sneak up unobserved.

Losses are unavoidable collateral damage.

The herd simply moves on.

The biggest threat ... are hyenas.

They pursue their prey till it's completely exhausted.

And no wildebeest will stop to help another.

Lorkulup, he of the broken nose, sees what's going on.

The hyenas see him coming.

And so do the wildebeest.

Hyenas know an adult lion means danger.

A lioness will chase them away.

An male will try to kill them.

They won't argue.

Lorkulup eats his fill.

In these weeks the five brothers will kill

only a tiny proportion of their food.

They'll steal or scavenge the rest.

The wildebeest migration brings them more than they need.

The lions regain their strength.

Fire-refreshed, glowing grasslands

host hundreds of thousands of animals.

Even without the predators, sick or weak animals die every day.

The scavengers are well catered for.

Every morning they gather for the night's harvest.

Today

the flock of vultures have an unexpected guest:

a male kori bustard: Africa's largest flying bird.

Its delicate table manners seem out of place here.

Great bustards pick mainly at fruits and seeds.

But they don't turn up their bill at a little morsel of meat.

Those raised tail feathers show he's in the mood for mating.

And the marabou, standing tall in front of him, looks like a rival.

That's something no self-respecting bustard can tolerate.

To the stork all this is simply too silly.

But the bustard won't let up.

So the marabou finally just ignores the cock.

The brothers are enjoying the easy life.

As long as there are no powerful lions to challenge them,

they can take anything they like.

Whoever actually killed it.

Black-backed jackals get most of their food the same way.

But there's a family issue here.

This cub really ought to start fending for himself.

His parents are trying to make that very clear.

They don't mean him any harm,

but he's no longer welcome in their territory.

They're literally pushing him away.

While hyenas await the scraps

from Oloborr and Orpadan's stolen breakfast ...

the parent jackal is getting ever more annoyed

with its adolescent offspring.

But it would seem a nagging parent is preferable to scary independence.

They really have to insist: his time is up.

Oloborr's mother once cast him out in the same way.

Many sons of carnivores suffer this fate.

Which doesn't make it feel any less of a rejection.

As the day warms up across the savannah,

the lions have almost finished their breakfast.

Time ...

... to seek a shady place to rest.

Nothing but scraps left for the real hunters.

And now the jackals are getting cheeky, too.

Sometimes you just can't win.

Now Lame Olomina claims the privileges of an alpha male.

Even if the lioness doesn't seem quite convinced he's earned it.

But something's a little awry here.

Her teats are full. That would normally mean she’s lactating.

And two kilometers away,

three tiny babies are hidden in a den.

They're hungry. Waiting for their mother.

But Olomina won't let her go to them.

For too long, he's had no opportunity to mate,

weakened by his wounds.

The lioness has just given birth to his brothers' young.

But a rare hormone imbalance has made her receptive again.

It's an unexpected chance for Olomina,

as his brothers are no longer interested.

The lioness is beside herself and wants only to return to her cubs,

but he keeps forcing her back.

Forced couplings often happen after a territory takeover.

But that was five months ago.

For a few days during her pregnancy, the lioness was compliant.

Olomina exploited that.

Now, it's dangerous for the newborns.

Torn by conflicting instincts,

the lioness moves away, followed by her suitor.

She shelters from the heat of the day next to a small brook.

When Olomina is briefly distracted by the elephants ...

... she seizes her chance.

This is the moment to disappear.

She finally makes it to the den and her pregnant sister.

But she's slow to approach the babies.

The abandoned Romeo, free of the elephants,

stubbornly follows her tracks.

When he reaches the den, he is more cautious.

Perhaps he's already had a bad experience here.

Meanwhile the little ones are starving.

The mum they waited for so patiently doesn't exactly greet them warmly.

Her hormones are desperately out of kilter.

Sideswipes alternate with gentle licking.

The usual way of stimulating a baby's digestion.

Olomina's presence is making things worse.

Abashed, shameful, he withdraws.

Olomina may sense the situation is explosive.

He holds back.

For the babies, it's an emotional rollercoaster.

They need their mother and her milk.

But she veers between affection and brusque rejection.

Hungry, scared, the little ones creep between the adults.

It's like running a gauntlet. There's no sanctuary anywhere.

Even their mother's sister, heavily pregnant herself,

is in no shape to look after another's offspring.

The cubs' life is hanging by a thread.

This time of year, September, is still supposed to be rather dry.

But in the northern Serengeti

unscheduled showers are nothing unusual.

A rainstorm disturbs a martial hawk-eagle's meal.

Not far away is the huge expanse of Lake Victoria.

Vast quantities of water evaporating every day

can return as rain,

making the Masai Mara especially attractive

to migrating herds in the dry season.

Heavy rain-showers are dangerous for tiny lion cubs.

Right now they need all their strength.

Thankfully, their mother's hormone levels have settled.

She can care for her young in the normal way.

She carefully carries her cubs away from the den. It's become too wet.

Olomina hasn't bothered her for three days now.

Everything seems to be all right.

But the lame lion's obsessional behaviour

has claimed a victim.

Only two of the three cubs are still alive.

And they must survive any more hormonal swings

over the next few weeks.

The rain has turned the once-charred plains

a brilliant green.

Yet, with their heavy muscles,

the buffalo have trouble plucking the fresh shoots.

Nevertheless, this is still a good time for them.

The migrations have brought them weeks of freedom from the lions.

The wildebeest are far easier prey.

Young bull buffalo can enjoy friendly skirmishes: play fights.

The mothers can relax, too.

Amongst all the wildebeest,

even the warthogs can take it easy for a while.

And except for the buffalo,

all the hooved animals love the juicy short grass.

But soon the great migration must continue,

back to the southern Serengeti.

The deadly power struggle between lions and buffalo will begin again.

The female that Olomina harassed for so long seems to be at peace.

The five brothers’ first offspring ... are doing well.

The lioness stays away from the fathers as far as she can.

It's not clear how they will interpret

their unfamiliar paternal role.

They watch ... and wait.

Their curiosity grows from day to day.

Oloborr, mighty leader of the five,

cautiously nears the bush where his first children are hiding.

Their mother must still be approached carefully.

He's especially docile today.

Sometimes she seeks close contact.

Other times she's uncontrollably aggressive.

At the sight of their young, guarded by their erratic mother,

the pride kings seem rather subdued.

They're curious, but they can't seem to find a confident way

to relate to their new family.

The female seems uncomfortable with the males.

Their presence disturbs her.

And there's no sign of them moving on.

So: she just moves house again.

There are plenty of suitable places to stay along the river.

She knows them all and soon finds a new home.

Oloborr, meanwhile,

re-establishes his territorial rights.

For the lioness,

the stream is more than just another place to hide the cubs.

It's the grass and the water.

Perfect conditions for wildebeest: they love the juicy shoots.

So some herds walk to the brook every day.

Hearing the baying of wildebeest,

the lioness benefits from all the years she's spent here.

Quickly, she slips into position,

without arousing the attention of the herd.

A herd offers safety in numbers, but not equally.

Animals at the rear are slowed by those in front.

Wildebeest are easier to hunt than buffalo.

Not only because they're lighter.

They would never turn round, as a group, to protect each other.

No one comes to help.

Olosiadu, the cautious, had his beady eye

on the pride females. In minutes he's on the spot.

He knows this female can be sensitive,

and lets her eat alone.

He'll get his lion's share later.

All pride males steal the females' kills.

But in exchange, they protect the pride young against any threat.

Without this protection,

a lioness could rarely raise her cubs to independence.

That's the deal between the sexes.

But today, he waits until she's had her fill

and is on her way back to the young.

Soon, the land belongs to the locals.

Late September.

In the short rainy season, wildebeest leave the Masai Mara

for the mineral-rich plains of the southern Serengeti.

When the last columns cross the Mara River

the balance of power changes.

Now the lions confront their most formidable adversary.

The brothers must prove

that they have what it takes to hold territory all year round.

And the tensions between them... are rising.