All language subtitles for The Life of Mammals 6of9 Opportunists 720p HDTV x264 AAC MVGroup org_Subtitles01.ENG

I am looking at one of the most
striking and instantly identifiable
animals in the world.

A single one
is worth about a million pounds.

Famously fussy in their feeding,
less than 1,000 survive in the wild.

Millions are spent conserving them.
Yet, increasingly,
if you want to see one,

you have to come to a zoo,
like this one in Atlanta.

It's a giant panda.

When it comes to food,

the giant panda
is the ultimate specialist.

It eats bamboo
and virtually nothing else.

Few animals can live on such a diet.

Bamboo is tough, fibrous
and very indigestible.

With no competition,
pandas thrived -

until the bamboo forests in their
native China started to disappear.

Then, with no other food to fall
back on, their population crashed.

So the giant panda lives its life
on the edge.

But there are
other feeding strategies.

Instead of being a specialist,
you can be a generalist, an
omnivore,

prepared to eat pretty well anything
you can find - animal or vegetable.

That strategy has led
to some animals that are the most
successful and charismatic of all.

So what does it take
to be an omnivore, and who are they?

Omnivores are the most adaptable
animals in the world,

and there is no better example of
this than the North American racoon,

which is as varied in its diet
as the panda is specialised.

This remarkable mammal has adapted
to more types of habitat
than almost any other.

The skills that have enabled it
to do so are many,

but there is one
which it shares with all omnivores -

the ability to make the most
of any opportunity.

The racoon owes much of its success
to its inquisitive nature,

but it also has a special trick
up its sleeve -

extremely sensitive hands.

Touch is the racoon's
most powerful sense.

To process the information it gets
from its hands,

it uses an unusually large
proportion of its brain -

about the same as humans use
for sight.

Scientists believe that a racoon -
through touch -

can construct
a picture of its surroundings

that is as complex as that
which we perceive with our eyes.

You might say
that the racoon sees with its hands.

It can feel the difference between
a rock and a clam in a split second.

If it touches a crayfish, which is
armed with powerful pincers,

then second sight is very valuable.

Their extraordinary sense of touch
is not even affected by temperature.

Unlike human beings,

racoon hands keep their sensitivity
even in the coldest water,

allowing them to forage in rivers
and streams whatever the season.

Racoons have been around for nearly
two-and-a-half million years,

but the first opportunists
appeared much earlier than that.

Being able to eat
pretty well anything

was by no means
the basic condition of mammals.

The very first of them -
contemporaries of the dinosaurs,
small insignificant creatures -

had such tiny teeth, they probably
ate little but insects.

But specialist omnivores
did eventually appear
among the prehistoric mammals.

One lived here in South Dakota,

though then, of course, the climate
and vegetation was very different.

It's called Dynohyus,
and some experts have likened it

to a kind of killer warthog.

This animal was as big as a rhino.

It had a large hairy crest
running down its spine,

a long snout
and a formidable set of teeth.

Dynohyus died out
about 20 million years ago,

but its teeth
can tell us what it ate.

At the back, it had massive,
flat molars that could grind up
almost any kind of vegetation.

But it wasn't
a specialised vegetarian

because the teeth at the front

didn't have those sharp, chisel-like
teeth that an antelope has.

Neither was it
a specialised meat-eater

because the teeth at its middle jaw

are not the slicing, sharp teeth
of a lion. But they ARE formidable.

So are the big tusks at the front.

In fact, what you have here
is a generalised tool kit

that enabled the animal
to deal with almost anything.

Dynohyus may be extinct,
but teeth like these

are typical
of all living omnivores today.

The forests of Sulawesi in Indonesia
are haunted

by a rare, elusive animal that looks
almost as prehistoric as Dynohyus.

To find food here, this animal uses
not touch but another super-sense -

the one possessed by all omnivores.

The thud of a large pangi fruit
hitting the ground

might attract the attention
of an animal nearby,

but sounds don't travel far
in these thick forests.

Scent, however, can drift on breezes
and be detected from great distances

by an animal
with a really sensitive nose.

And this creature certainly has
that.

It's a babirusa,
and its sense of smell

is probably as good as that
of any omnivore, alive or dead.

There are several of them here,

attracted
by the smell of the ripe pangi.

Males have teeth in their top jaw
that grow up and through its snout.

The size of these tusks
is a good indicator of strength,

so they determine
who gives way to whom.

The pangi fruit may smell good,

but there's a problem -
it contains a poison.

The babirusa, however,
knows how to deal with that.

It visits a clay lick.

Clay containing the right sort
of medicine is not common

and these licks
are few and far between.

A large one like this
attracts babirusa from miles around.

These are the only places where this
rare animal is seen in any numbers.

The clay contains a mineral

which helps to neutralise
the toxins in the pangi.

Babirusa, like most omnivores,
live in relatively small groups,

for they specialise
in picking up odd bits and pieces,

which seldom occur in sufficient
concentration to sustain a herd.

So the clay lick, for the babirusa,

is a time when individuals
that lead relatively lonely lives

get to know one another.

Young males get a chance
to test their strength.

The nose, for any pig,
is its greatest asset.

A multi-purpose tool which not only
locates food, but digs it up as
well.

Wild boar,
the European cousin of the babirusa,

are unrivalled foragers.

They are the least fussy of feeders.

Worms make a tasty snack,

but pigs know very well that
there's plenty of other food here.

It's just a question of finding it.

Their memories carry the smells
and images of all sorts of things

that they've previously eaten
and assessed.

Keeping an open mind means
that nothing will be overlooked.

Certainly not a decaying pigeon.

Foraging in the woodland
is not difficult in summer,

but what happens when the ground
is hidden beneath a blanket of snow?

Food is now very scarce.

The carcass of an animal killed by
the hard winter is a valuable prize,

but the pigs must continue foraging
in the normal way

to maintain their strength.

They are not just ploughing
through the snow at random.

They are still guided by their nose,
for smell travels through snow.

And there's an interesting smell...
right here.

And here.

By following their noses, pigs
can keep active throughout winter.

Other opportunists
use a different tactic.

They spend the winter asleep
in underground dens and appear when
the spring brings better weather.

This is the Asiatic racoon dog.

Its legs are so short that it has
difficulty in moving through snow -

which may be one reason
why it hibernates.

It, too, eats almost anything.

The females, in particular, need to
do so for they produce large litters

and supplying all her babies with
milk makes great demands on a
mother.

She has produced 15 pups.

They ALL need to put on considerable
weight to survive the winter -

and they will only be helped by
their parents for eight short weeks.

Their first food
is their mother's milk.

But very soon
they need solid food as well

and that, too,
has to be provided by Mother.

While she goes off to forage, the
male stays to look after the pups.

Surprisingly -
given the size of his family -

he does virtually nothing
to help feed them.

The female is coming back.
She has caught a small rodent.

Unlike many canids, racoon dogs do
not regurgitate food for the babies

and, since mouths hold less
than stomachs,

this limits the amount of food
she can bring back.

As a consequence, she has
to provide her cubs with milk for
twice as long as any other dog does.

She'll make
a number of journeys every day,

but most of the things
she brings back

are only enough for a single pup.

This time she has brought an egg.

The pups haven't yet learned how
to deal with such a strange object.

Is it worth eating and, if so, how?

Yes, it is!

And the pups won't forget.

Before long, they must start
foraging for themselves,

with their parents alongside to give
them some guidance on what is
edible.

They don't always get it right.

They must learn fast, for each will
have to get as fat as its mother

if it is to survive
the long sleep through winter -

and not all of the litter will do
so.

Racoon dogs store food as fat,

but another omnivore
has a different tactic.

Chickens -
one of mankind's favourite prey,

which he keeps
in unnatural concentrations

to provide himself with fresh meat
and eggs all the year round.

In farmyards like this,
chickens are easy targets

for any opportunist determined
enough to find its way in.

If there is a weak link
in the defences, a fox will find it.

FRANTIC SQUAWKING AND CLUCKING

Foxes are frequently blamed
for killing more than they need.

But do they really deserve
such a bloodthirsty reputation?

No.
A fox will not waste what it kills -

providing it's not disturbed.

But it must act quickly if it's to
make the most of such an
opportunity.

Few realise that foxes bury
their surplus food.

They are saving it
for when times get tough.

A vixen will bury carcasses
all over her territory.

Later, she will use her memory
and her keen sense of smell

to find them again and dig them up.

The fox is not a wanton killer,

but an intelligent opportunist
who thinks ahead.

Some opportunities
are both brief and seasonal.

There is an abundant source of food
in this cave,

but only for a few weeks
and it lies right in its far depths.

Down here, it is totally dark

and we can only see what goes on
by using infrared cameras.

Darkness, of course,
is not a problem for bats

who navigate by echolocation.

But for any other animal,
getting around down here

presents a serious challenge.

And there's another major obstacle.

The droppings produced
by the vast assemblage of bats

creates an atmosphere
thick with ammonia and fungal spores

that can be fatal
to those that inhale them.

This guano accumulating on the cave
floor sustains more than fungus.

There is a living carpet
of flesh-eating beetles and larvae

which, together, make short work
of anything they can get hold of.

In fact, this is
about as hostile an environment

as you will find
anywhere on the planet.

Yet that doesn't deter one unfussy,
enterprising opportunist - the
skunk.

Indeed,
skunks seem almost at home here.

They even indulge in courtship -

as can happen when a male blunders
into a female in the pitch dark.

But what is it that tempts them
down into this repellent place?

The answer is baby bats.

At this age, they are unable to fly

and, in such a jostling crowd,
many lose their footholds and fall.

On the ground,
the babies are in great danger.

The skunks can see nothing whatever,

so the fallen bats may survive

if only they can regain
the safety of the rock wall.

But so many bats fall that
the skunks blunder into quite enough

to make their visit worthwhile.

In the darkness, the skunks can't be
sure which end of the bat is which

so, to avoid getting bitten,

they roll the bat on the ground
to subdue it.

It is not just skunks that make
the most of this seasonal offering.

The touchy-feely racoons are here,
too.

In fact,
it might seem to be just the place

for an opportunist
that can see with its hands.

Exactly which sense the skunks
and racoons use to find the bats in
the pitch-black cave, no-one knows.

Smell seems unlikely, given the
overpowering stench of ammonia here.

And how could a skunk or a racoon
possibly hear the distress calls

of a single bat above the deafening
squeaks of several million others?

The most likely answer is that they
use a combination of touch and luck.

Both racoons and skunks must rely
on, literally, bumping into the
bats.

This bonanza
will only last for about a month.

Then these opportunists will revert
to more reliable sources of food.

Elsewhere in the world, however,

making the most of seasonal
abundancies is a way of life.

Up here in Alaska during the summer,
a whole succession of different food
become available.

And there's a spectacular animal
here that's prepared to sample
each and every one of them.

No one dish is available for long,
so you have to make the best of it.

And top of the menu right now
is salmon!

It is the favourite food of
the largest and the most formidable

of all omnivores - grizzly bears.

Salmon are plentiful now but, six
months ago in the middle of winter,

conditions were so harsh that
it was impossible for a large animal
to get enough to eat.

All a bear can do then
is to sit it out and try and
conserve as much energy as possible.

To see how they cope with these
enormous seasonal changes,

we must go back six months.

In October, grizzly bears went into
a deep sleep.

Their temperature
drops several degrees

and their pulse rate decreases
to about ten beats a minute.

They do not eat, drink or defecate,
but they do occasionally stir.

During hibernation, a bear burns up
almost a million calories...

..virtually emptying
its energy reserves.

By spring, the bears have lost
nearly a third of their body weight.

To avoid starvation, they must now
find food, and quickly.

Their diet will be driven
by a clearly defined seasonal cycle.

Now, in April, they eat roots.

Roots are followed by grass.

It's easy food,

but they'll move on to the next
course if something big shows up.

A whale carcass could last a month.
By May, fresh meat is on the menu.

Mid-summer,
and they're back on the salmon.

This bear has been out of
hibernation for about four months.

Surprisingly, it has not gained any
weight. It may even have lost
weight.

But if it is to survive the
coming winter, now is the time when
it really has to pack on the pounds.

Salmon - one of the most important
sources of food for bears -

is now available in quantity

as the fish migrate in thousands
up the rivers to spawn.

Chasing them uses a lot of energy,
but the rewards are great.

Salmon are rich in protein and fat.

So valuable is this source of food

that a bear
that hasn't got a salmon of its own

will spend considerable energy
in trying to steal someone else's.

In a good salmon year,
a bear can catch a dozen a day,

giving a huge boost
to its energy reserves.

But some parts of a fish
are more nourishing than others.

If there are lots around, the
grizzlies will eat only brains...

and caviar.

This behaviour piles on
even more calories.

Even when there are no salmon
to be caught,

bears can still find food
out on these estuaries.

Like pigs, they have an
extraordinarily acute sense of smell

and that can guide them to food,
even beneath the surface of the
sand.

Clams!

But how on earth can an animal
with massive paws and huge claws

manage to open and extract meat
from a tiny shell like this?

The answer is...
with surprising dexterity.

Clams may look small
in the paws of a grizzly bear,

but they are still worth the effort.

Early autumn.
Two months to go before hibernation

and the bear's appetite
steps up a gear.

A seasonal change
in the bear's physiology allows them
to eat continuously

without ever feeling full - a huge
advantage during the berry season.

They may eat
as many as 200,000 berries a day

and that gives the next big boost
to a bear's energy reserves.

But at this time of the year,
they will eat whatever they find.

After three months of counting
calories, they're back in shape.

So for these grizzly bears in
Alaska, the real test is now about
to begin.

With luck, they will have put on
enough weight to enable them to

survive five to six months of
winter.

But what is for sure
is that they will only have done so
by being extremely unfussy feeders.

The lifestyle of a generalist
may seem a good strategy,

but from an evolutionary
perspective,

there is always
the temptation to specialise.

In India, there is another bear

happy to tackle anything
remotely edible.

But that is only for half the year.
This bear - the sloth bear -

has started down the road
to specialisation.

Inside this mound of clay
lies a huge quantity of food

and the sloth bear has just
the right equipment to collect it.

It has particularly large claws -

perfect for breaking into
these sun-baked termite mounds.

It's worth the effort - one colony
may contain a million individuals.

The termites' first line of defence
has been broken.

Faced with such a large
and destructive predator,

there is little the soldier termites
can do to drive the bear away.

The bear hoovers the termites up as
they swarm over their smashed mound.

But the greatest prize are
the larvae that lie inside the nest.

The bear has other adaptations
as well as big claws.

It's lost two front teeth so, by
pursing its floppy lips into a tube,
it can suck insects into its mouth.

And at the end of its snout, there's
a flap that prevents dirt and dust

going up its nose at the same time.

But the sloth bear
may be heading for danger -

the same danger that may before long
exterminate the giant panda.

For the moment, however,
there is no shortage of termites

and the sloth bear has still not
become wholly reliant on them.

Just as humans have had an impact
on the giant panda and its food,

so they have on the sloth bear.

In India,
sloth bears live alongside people.

Conflict between the two is common,

resulting in hundreds of maulings
every year.

During the day, bears here must take
refuge in areas not used by people.

Sloth bears may not compete
with cattle for food,

but land turned to grazing
reduces the bears' termite harvest.

Loss of natural habitat

has had a serious impact on wildlife
across the globe,

but man-made habitats have provided
new opportunities for many
omnivores.

The modern city. It seems a sterile
world of concrete, steel and glass.

It must surely be
one of the most difficult places

for a wild animal to make a living.

Well, it would be...

were it not for the extravagant
habits of the people who live here.

The largest cities may contain more
than ten million human inhabitants

and, where there are people,
there is food - lots of it.

A city this size produces
around 10,000 tons of waste a day.

If the residents
are not to drown in leftovers,

it all needs to be cleaned up -
continuously.

Good hygiene is so important
in these crowded conditions

that much time and money is spent
trying to sanitise our cities.

But it isn't easy to wipe away the
evidence of food, not completely.

To an animal with an acute sense
of smell, food stands out.

Everything else is grey
by comparison.

We may not notice the scraps left
behind, but what's not taken away

can become an opportunity for
others.

Under the partial cover of darkness,

a familiar face materialises.

Racoons have found our cities
very much to their liking.

Their great climbing skills

enable them to find shelter in roofs
and chimney breasts during the day

and to move with ease in all parts
of this complex environment - a fact
recorded by city security cameras.

DOG BARKS

But to find food,
racoons must descend to the ground.

They're bold and intelligent animals

and negotiate roads as confidently
as human pedestrians do.

Indeed, city racoons
are less likely to be hit by a car

than their country cousins

who get less experience
of judging the speeds of vehicles.

In an attempt to thwart
garbage raiders,

rubbish collection continues
around the clock.

But racoons are quick to take
advantage of any opportunities.

If there is food around,
they will find it.

The skills that made racoons
so successful in their original home

also serve them well here -
in the fast lane.

The inquisitiveness they showed when
looking for food on the forest floor

now leads them to rich pickings.

The manual dexterity that enabled
them to capture crayfish in streams

now leads them to take off
the lids of dustbins...

and winkle morsels
from jars, boxes and tins.

Racoons are
an American success story.

Their population has increased
20 times since the 1930s

and their range has expanded by 30%.

They are now
one of the most successful and
widespread mammals on the continent.

The biggest opportunists of all have
a slightly less subtle approach.

Bears can break into cars as easily
as they can open clam shells.

It takes more effort,
but the rewards can be huge.

Here in Britain, the streets belong
to a different urban prowler -

the red fox.

Unlike racoons,
foxes are territorial,

but they're also extremely
adaptable.

In one year, a fox can change from
being totally rural to totally
urban.

So foxes are always on the move.

If I were to explore these
city streets for just a few hours,

I'd almost certainly see more foxes

than I would in a whole year
of walking in the countryside.

Indeed, cities like this
can support ten times as many foxes

as a similar area in the country.

Foxes have one other thing
going for them -

at least in Britain -
their popularity.

Surveys regularly show
that the red fox is among
the nation's most favourite mammals.

That's a fact that foxes
have been quick to exploit.

Many of us encourage
our friendly neighbourhood foxes
by putting out food for them.

And the foxes
are only too glad to take it.

Indeed, in this city, some 60% of
a fox's diet come from free
handouts.

And the more food there is,
the more foxes there are.

However, there's another kind
of urban opportunist

that is much more successful
than the red fox,

but it's at the opposite end
of the popularity scale.

We don't encourage it in any way
and yet it thrives on our leftovers.

If statistics are anything to go by,
you are within five metres of one
at all times.

In fact, there is probably one
directly beneath me as I speak.

Warm water emptying
from baths and washing machines

and sluicing into the network
of sewers beneath our homes

creates a surprisingly stable
and temperate environment.

It's an ideal habitat for one of the
most widespread, adaptable mammals
on the planet - the brown rat.

It's not just the steady temperature
that the rats like,

there's a steady supply of food
as well.

Scraps flushed down the sewers allow
a rat to spend its entire life here,

though, contrary to popular belief,

there is seldom enough food
to support swarms of rats.

The only thing rats need worry about
is a sudden rise of water level.

Sewer rats are
particularly sensitised to this -

often with good reason.

Her nest is in danger of flooding

but, fortunately, she knows
a safer place to take her babies.

They're guided very largely by smell

and follow tried-and-tested routes
that they know to be safe.

Moving six youngsters under
such conditions seems a hard task,

but rats are resilient creatures -

which makes them well-suited
to living in unnatural surroundings.

In spite of their numbers,
we seldom see rats out and about,

but we know they're there - eating
our food, probably spreading
disease,

so we wage war on them
with traps and poison.

But what happens when rats live
unchecked in a human society?

In this temple in northern India,
rats are sacred.

The local people believe that, after
death, they return to Earth as rats.

So rats here are fed and protected
and, indeed, worshipped.

So this is not just a rat haven,
it's a rat heaven

and the rats take full advantage
of it.

In the wild, rats are nocturnal.
But not here.

These rats don't shun the daylight
like city rats. Why should they?

There's nothing to harm them here.
And there's plenty of food.

As a result,
they swarm in great numbers.

Colonies in the wild
which grow to be about 600 strong

normally then break down and divide.

But here, their population
has stabilised at around 6,000.

The size of the worldwide population
of rats is incalculable.

They inhabit every continent
on Earth, including Antarctica.

Could there be
a more successful mammal?

Well, yes - us.

The human species.

We are the ultimate demonstration of
just how successful a mammal can be

that is prepared to eat
pretty well anything.

This is the Kumbh Mela -
a spectacular Hindu festival
in central India,

attended by millions of people.

It is the largest gathering
of people for a common cause

ever seen
in the history of the world.

Over two weeks, this temporary city
on the banks of the Ganges

will shelter
a staggering 100 million people.

Since they are Hindus,
most are strictly vegetarian

but, across the world, we seem to be
able to thrive whatever the diet -

whether it be one dominated by
lentils and rice, or by hamburgers.

We have learned
how to create our own food resources

so that our population is no longer
limited by the quantity of food
that occurs naturally.

That development enabled us
first to dominate the Earth
and, eventually, to over-run it.

But an essential key to our success

has been the one that we share with
rats, racoons, bears and foxes -

an adaptable nature
and an ability to seize
an opportunity when we see it.

In fact, you might say that it is
not the meek that have inherited
the Earth...but the opportunists.

We first went to that cave in Texas
to film the bats that roost there

but, while we were doing so,

we noticed that skunks were coming
in at night to collect the bats
that had fallen to the ground.

If ever there was an example of
opportunism among animals, that was
it, so we filmed the skunks as well.

It was behaviour that had never been
recorded before, but predicting
animal behaviour isn't easy.

In order to capitalise
on the skunks' behaviour,

cameraman Paul Stewart had to work
a quarter of a mile underground
in truly horrible conditions.

It's amazing. There's something
like ten million bats in this cave

as well as the skunks and racoons
that we're looking for
for the filming.

There's a lot of ammonia
from their droppings

and, as well as that, we've been
warned about the flesh-eating
maggots and even a rattlesnake.

So we need
some serious protective gear.

We need this mask,
which will protect me from ammonia.

I've got wellington boots
to stop me sinking into the guano

and a helmet
to stop the ample amounts of urine
coming from the bats.

The camera we're using is infrared.
It uses light the bats can't see,

and nor can we, so we'll
be working in total darkness.

We hope the camera kit will work.
What we don't know is whether the
behaviour we want will be happening.

It's time for us to get our kit on
and go down into the cave
and find out.

The behaviour I'm here to film

isn't one that's well known,
even scientifically.

If we're lucky,
we'll have the first record

of a supreme opportunist braving
really tough conditions to get food.

That's one of the reasons I enjoy
filming - to produce firsts.

Conditions here may suit the bats,
but they challenge any other mammal,
however opportunist.

The ammonia concentration is the
same as in household cleaning fluid.

The floor of the cave
is deep in bat guano,

yet many insects feed on it,

and anything else they can catch.

And the temperature?
45 degrees Celsius.

Well, that was, um...four
fairly intense hours in the cave
of nothing...really, turning up.

It's really hostile down there. The
ammonia was starting to get through
the mask, making it hard to breathe.

You start to smell all sorts there.

At the same time, because
of the light from the eyepiece,
I was a magnet for biting insects.

But then something amazing happens.

The bats, you can hear they're
starting to frenzy and to turn.

Nothing can prepare you for what
it's like when they're in the cave.

Suddenly, this breeze starts up,
then dust appears in the air -
all the fur from the bats.

It's like being in a Dyson vortex
vacuum cleaner or something.
You feel taken up in it.

And then it starts to rain and
that's the bats. When they take off,

they lighten the load a little bit
and urinate.

I've probably been urinated on
by about six million of them.
Thank you, bat.

I came out and, just so annoyingly,
there was a skunk on the trail,

having seen nothing
for that whole period.

So I think it's time for a rest,
a drink of water

and then I go back down there.
Better luck next time.

That persistence paid off.

Paul became just another
opportunist, exploiting the cave.

The first animal we had some
success filming were the opossums.

They seem to live down here. They
must have a bomb-proof constitution.

We saw very little sign of skunks.
Then we had a couple of sightings.

Day by day, you see a little bit
more and you can predict

where the skunks will be.

After a while, the priority became
not just getting shots of skunks,
but getting nice shots of skunks.

That meant you had to be
more careful with the lighting.

By about the tenth day, we knew
we'd got what we most wanted -

a sequence never filmed
or even seen before.

Tonight, we got some skunks...

It's quite a climb out...
out of that cave.

Anyway...we got some skunks.
It looked...

It looked good. The skunks
move along the edge of the wall.

It's kind of sad that
the baby bats that have made it
through the flesh-eating insects,

they've got to the wall and
they've got that tiny chance, then
you see this skunk hoovering them.

That's it. The last day of filming.

Not the most pleasant location,
but the skunks have been amazing.

It seems that we have a sequence.
That's good news.

When filming some species,
the dangers are more obvious.

Grizzly bears are bigger, stronger,
heavier and faster than you are.

They have huge teeth and huge claws.

In short, if they want to make
a meal of you, there's little
you can do to stop them.

Yet some people specialise
in getting close to grizzly bears,

as you need to do in order
to film them. How do they do it?

Filming wildlife, you rely on
experts all the time, often heavily.

But even though you're under
the guidance of an expert, you
don't take your thinking cap off.

That was great. He turned towards
camera and just grabbed it.
It's a shame he's behind the grass.

Working with the grizzly bears
in Alaska

with an expert called Buck Wild,
we had three close encounters

where the bears came within
six or eight feet.

In each of those situations,
Buck Wild stopped the animal
by holding his hands up.

But I would say
that I never felt comfortable

and, although he did stop the bears,
one day the bears won't stop.

I wouldn't want to be
in that situation.

One film maker has spent more time
than anyone else with bears

and has had close encounters that
would terrify the bravest of men -

Canadian, Jeff Turner.

I've always been drawn to bears.

I have a connection, a feeling
for them that's always been there.

I've only been charged by a bear
once in the last 15 years,
and that was early on.

I think I was charged because
I didn't have enough experience.

That's all
part of getting close to them -

being able to understand
when enough is enough.

You have to understand that
with an animal like a bear because
if they're really not happy, they...

they can quickly...kill you.

The number one rule
when you're working with bears

is you don't want to surprise them.
You always want them to know
that you're there.

Rule number two is, to close
the distance, you've got to be
unaggressive, unthreatening.

Keep your eyes down.
As they get closer, talk to them.

It's about tone of voice.
It's how you say it.

It's about putting the bear at ease.
You can communicate that easily.

In the past, many scientists
regarded animals as machines,
driven by base instincts,

and tried to classify
their behaviour in simple terms.

For these opportunist mammals,
that approach is doomed to fail.

Predicting their behaviour
is one of the great challenges
in understanding animals.