All language subtitles for The Monkey-Eating Eagle of the Orinoco Natural World 2010 1080p BBC

The Orinoco river basin in Venezuela
is a strangely eerie place.

It's a lost world,

with some of the largest areas
of pristine jungle left
in South America.

These forests are
the stronghold of a secretive,
poorly understood bird of prey.

The harpy eagle.

They're massive birds which
snatch large monkeys from tree tops.

I'm here to try and understand them.

It's going to be hard.

They're one of the most elusive
of all the eagles.

My aim was to get close to these
birds and follow a chick being
raised in the depths of this forest,

but I'd no idea just how close
our encounters would be.

This is the eagle of all eagles.

As a wildlife film maker,
a harpy eagle will probably be
the biggest challenge of my career.

I've been fascinated by
birds of prey ever since I was
young, and filmed many of them.

But the harpy eagle
has outwitted nearly everyone.

Most bird lovers would give
their eye teeth to see this bird.

They're so difficult to see in
the wild because they stay
hidden in vast areas of jungle.

It's at the top of a massive
ceiba tree that we find a nest.

This is one of the biggest trees
in the forest.

The nest will be a window into the
eagle's world. But is there a chick?

The only way we'll find out
is to get up into the canopy.

'We've found a tree that has
a good view over to the nest.'

I've never had to do this
for a bird of prey before.

Get 40 metres off the ground
to have a good look at it.

Normally, eagles nest in places
where you can see them from
the ground fairly easily.

It's a long way to go up,
but it's the only way we are
going to get a view of the area

and all the animals.

Under the eyes of the harpy.

I'm overwhelmed by the sensation
of height and space up here.

Like a dive down onto a reef,
a whole new world starts to appear.

This is the part of the forest
that receives all the sunshine.

It's where the flowering
and fruiting happens

and this attracts a huge range
of birds and other animals.

Up here,
I'm out of my natural element.

It's mesmerising.

Over there is the
enormous ceiba tree.

A strange force, completely
dominating this part of the forest.

This is exactly the kind of place
I'd imagined these magnificent
eagles might choose to build a nest.

There's the female

and I'm sure the nest is active.

Are there any chicks?

There's one...
and only recently hatched.

It's tiny.

This is what I've been
really hoping for,

because now, for the next year
or more, the adults will focus

all their energies into raising this
chick right here in front of us.

They'll be tied to that nest

and we'll be watching
their every move.

We're in a unique position now
to learn more about
these mysterious eagles.

We've got a pair of eagles
with a chick...

..but what are they eating?

They're arguably the most
powerful eagle in the world,
built to kill huge animals.

I'm surprised to see these
red howler monkeys around here.

They've been well recorded
as prey for harpy eagles.

Surely, this troop is pushing
its luck hanging around here

now there's a NEST of eagles?

This is a three-toed sloth.

He must be an easy meal.

I'm surprised to find a family of
aracaris right between
us and the eagles.

They're a type of toucan.

Like all birds, I'd expect
them to be too fast
to be caught by the big eagles.

To have such strikingly beautiful,
gregarious birds right beside us

up here in the canopy
is a stroke of good luck.

I suspect they're nesting
in the hole in the tree.

There's another type of monkey
that's surprisingly visible around
here - wedge-capped capuchins.

They're smaller than the howler
monkeys - fast and agile.

Maybe too nimble for the eagles.

You hear them crashing
through the branches
far more often than you see them.

I'm not expecting to see a hunt.

The jungle is so vast and thick,
we'd never see it.

My aim is different. By being at
the nest, I'll see both the chick
and everything that gets brought in.

The female eagle's hungry.

I can tell because she's calling.

Here comes her mate,
and he's carrying something.

It's a capuchin monkey.

This is amazing.
I remember reading about

these very mysterious,
dinosaur-like eagles
of the forest when I was young,

but I never dreamt that
one day I would see one returning

with a monkey, and in this place,
which is like a real Jurassic Park.

It's quite something.

It's just frustrating for us having
such a narrow window of view

into the nest, only able to see
what's happening

between two branches.

We'll need a better view than this.

We can't build a hide
in the ceiba tree itself.

Harpy eagles are
notoriously aggressive.

But a remote camera could work

if we can safely get up and
install one into the nest.

What's this? It's Kevlar padding.

'The team going up to install
the camera put on police riot gear.'

Because that gives you all
of the protection around
the back of the neck.

Which is great,
but is that OK for climbing?

These eagles specialise
in killing primates.

We'll need to be very careful if
she isn't going to hurt us with
those lethal weapons on her feet.

It makes sense to climb the tree
in the cool of the early morning

so the technical team won't cook
in all their heavy gear.

Their time up there has
to be kept to a minimum.

We want to make
the least disturbance.

I don't know how these
particular eagles will react.

I do know from other birds of prey
that levels of aggression can
vary widely between individuals.

We've rehearsed installing
the cameras on the ground,

so once they're up the tree
there's no mucking about.

It'll function as a surveillance
camera remaining on much of the time

and helping us get a complete
picture of the eagle's life.

We'll be passing on these
nest cam pictures to scientists.

It'll be recording
completely new behaviour.

The nest cam will take quite
a bashing with rain and humidity,
but it's built to last.

Picture quality
is a second priority.

James starts his abseil down.

We want the female to
return to her chick.

Adrian is out now. Suddenly, the
female swoops feet away from him.

It's a warning.

He must get down quickly now.

She's got a fistful of knives
she can use next time.

She swoops again.
Closer this time.

Any moment, she's going to take off.

Thankfully, she leaves him alone
and returns to the chick.

No-one wants to do that again
in a hurry.

Straight away we're getting
a view of the whole nest area.

It's as big as a double bed.

We can see mum and chick,
now relaxed.

The male eagle arrives
and he's carrying something.

It looks, to me,
like another capuchin monkey.

The nest cam confirms my
suspicion that the female
never leaves the chick.

It's only the male that's hunting -
at the moment.

It's strange for me to see
this tiny, vulnerable chick

and imagine it as big and powerful
as its mother one day.

If the mother wasn't here,
even a capuchin might take it.

Our own capuchin troop is becoming
increasingly familiar to us.

Their habits are very regular.

They're like a band of pickpockets.

Capuchins are well-known thieves
of eggs and chicks.

They won't take the eagle chick
whilst its mother is in attendance,
that's a fact.

Mind you, the capuchins are brave.

This one's being heavily stung by
bees while putting its fingers into
some honey from a hole in a tree.

But thinking about it,
we never see any monkeys
very close to the ceiba tree.

It's as if there's
an exclusion zone around it.

With the eagles up there,
the capuchin would be crazy
to get too close.

Mind you, the aracaris
don't seem to mind at all.

They couldn't really be closer.

Their own tree is only metres
away from the ceiba tree.

They're so social.

All of this gang are one close-knit
extended family group.

Now that we've been here
in the trees for over a week,
we're beginning to see patterns.

The aracaris have probably
chosen this nesting tree
for a very good reason.

The branch just above them
is often used by the male harpy
as a resting post between hunting.

What more could they ask?

No capuchin in its right mind
would try and raid eggs or chicks
from this aracari nest.

It must be one of the most
desirable homes in the area.

It looks like the
neighbours know it.

They're challenging the residents.

Our aracaris
won't give it up without a fight.

Thankfully, our aracaris remain.

They're a bit ruffled by this,
but their dignity looks intact.

Back on the nest, day ten, and
there's more for us to worry about.

A yellow-headed vulture
is circling the ceiba tree.

It's probably been attracted
by the stench of old carcasses
emanating from the harpy nest.

The vulture could eat the chick.

I realise now why mum can't
ever leave the nest.

As long as the chick is small,
it's very vulnerable.

Some days, nothing happens.

But other days, we're worried
we could lose the chick.

Just in our second week,
and to our complete horror,

we find a scouting column
of army ants

ascending the base
of the ceiba tree.

Bats that roost in the buttresses
are frightened off.

Behind them,
moving along the forest floor,

is a column, one million strong,
all on the march for food.

Army ants can overwhelm
and kill large creatures
that can't get out of their way.

Birds follow the ants
and jump on bugs, trying to escape
the frenzy of the advancing line.

But the ceiba tree is far too high.

We're relieved that the main column
sticks to the forest floor.

But they're not entirely
out of trouble's reach.

BUZZING

Mother and chick
are getting bothered by flies.

She's right to be concerned.

These can be deadly.

Bot flies are common here.

They lay eggs on skin or feather
and when the larvae hatch,
they bury quickly into flesh.

One may not be a problem,
but an infestation can kill.

We've found chicks dead.

I don't want my eagle
to go that way.

I've seen nature take its course
with eagles of this age before,
but not this one, please.

The female is acting strangely.

Is she responding
to the threat of these flies?

She seeks out branches
laden with green leaves

and breaks them off.

She takes them back to the nest.

Other, better-studied eagles
have also been recorded doing this.

Intriguingly,
the foliage they choose

may contain a natural insecticide.

The nest cam reveals
that she does this

just under 40 times in three weeks.

I can see the power
in this eagle now.

It's the enormous strength
in that beak and her feet.

I can see now how, when she's
hunting, she must use those deep,
broad wings to help her

pull away monkeys or sloths
that have enough life remaining
in them to cling to the trees.

My guess is that the green foliage
has several other benefits as well,

like burying old carcasses
in the nest

and even shading the chick
from the blisteringly hot sun.

There's really high
ultraviolet up here

at 30 metres
on the top of the canopy.

It cooks everything and everyone.

But it's rain
that's the real killer.

You know a storm is on the way
because of sudden gusts of wind.

These squalls make the tree you're
in sway like a ship in heavy sea.

Today, I'm really worried.

THUNDER RUMBLES
There's a storm on the way.

To make matters worse, it's been
two days now since the male eagle

last returned with food
and there's still no sign of him.

As eagles can't hunt easily
in bad weather, the last thing
she now needs is rain.

THUNDER RUMBLES

If this oncoming storm lasts long,
my chick could die of hunger,
or exposure, or both.

I've seen it happen before
with other eagle chicks,

but I can't bear the thought
of losing this one.

She's committed to brooding
her chick through this rain.

I hope it'll save its life.

Endless heavy rain like this
makes staying dry impossible.

Three days later,
the rain finally stops.

I have no way of knowing
if the chick is still alive.

Mum's clearly very hungry
and calling hard.

But the chick?

Well, it's alive...just.

A prey delivery by the male
is now crucial.

She looks around,
desperate to find him.

Here he comes,
and he's carrying something.

I think it's a sloth.

In seeming disgust at the delay,
the mother sends the male
straight back to hunting for more.

Standing over that sloth, which
is about the size of a domestic cat,

you can appreciate
just how big she is.

The chick is accepting food,
that's the main thing.

Tiny morsels are offered
so the chick won't choke.

I'm sure it'll soon gather
its strength back.

It's been a testing time,

but I sense it's over
the most vulnerable stage.

What I'm looking forward to now
is the next phase of its life,
in a few months time,

when it'll be growing and eating
more than ever and that big female
will have to hunt for it as well.

Eight weeks later, we walk the route
toward the ceiba tree again.

All I can think about
is the eagle chick.

The ground has changed.

The dry riverbed, which was
a useful path through the forest,
has become a stream.

I'm apprehensive now.

Perhaps we shouldn't have left
the eagle's nest for so long.

I wasn't expecting it to have rained
so much while we were away.

I spot an adult,
which is encouraging...

But the chick?

I'm in disbelief.

It's grown beyond all recognition.

But he's looking well.

When he was tiny I couldn't say
that I could sense a character,

but I can see it in him now.

I say "him" because I think, from
his smaller size, that he's a male.

The whole canopy
around here has transformed, too.

It's alive with rich,
vibrant colour.

Forks in the high trees
make bird baths.

And here are my old friends,
the aracaris.

I never expected to see
these birds again.

They make me smile.

Like so many creatures
in the forest, these aracaris
are such a strange sight,

but they're nothing
compared to some of the noises.

BIRDS CALL

What I find really strange
about being in the forest

is the acoustics and every noise
is amplified and it echoes a bit,
and it travels a long way

and sometimes you hear these calls
and think they're right by you

but in fact they're
a long, long way away.

It's just like sitting
in a cathedral where you
hear very distant voices

and you can't quite understand
where they're coming from.

I think a lot of people imagine that
a rainforest is a menacing place.

The truth is
it's a very beautiful place.

The colours are ones
that you'll never see
anywhere else in the world.

I suspect this peace
will soon be shattered.

A vast pair of wings
is about to shadow the jungle.

The female is going
to start hunting.

She's a force to be reckoned with,
we know that.

She's a third bigger than him.

The forest will have to be
doubly alert.

I'm guessing our howler monkeys
will be on the menu now.

They even have young.

That's good timing by her.

But I can't be sure
what she'll catch.

It'll be the nest cam
that'll show us.

But there's a problem,
frustratingly, it's fogged up.

It's just a blur of the nest area.

We know the value of the data
the nest cam was recording,
but given how aggressive

the female was on the last ascent,

the technical team
are understandably not that keen
about going back up.

They cover their legs and lower
backs with tough rawhide strips

to cover the parts not protected by
their stab jackets and Kevlar gear.

James goes up first.

There's still no sign of her.

Oh, here she comes.

Straight for my face.

The eagle waits
until his back is turned.

He's been hit again.

Right. She's now behind me.

I've got her.

Ow!

This strike dislodged James'
microphone, and hit his head
so hard he was left stunned.

He's stuck now. It's a stalemate.

He can't afford to descend
in case he loses sight of her,
even for a second.

The harpy's just a few
yards away waiting for
another chance to attack.

Graham has to go up and cover
James' back, and it pays off.

After this swoop,
the harpy doesn't attack again.

Together, they can watch out
for each other

and make the repairs whilst
the eagle gets back to the nest.

We're now in awe
at the power in these eagles.

Whatever happens,
no-one wants to do that again.

It was a close shave,
but now, we're back in action.

She's settled...

..and ready to hunt.

Having seen her take out James,
I wouldn't want to be a monkey
living in this jungle now.

The teenager is on his own.

He's glaring at us.

It's at moments like this that
I catch his eye and I'm not sure

if I'm looking at something
very friendly or very evil.

He's poised like a dinosaur.

He must have seen me moving.

It's quite unnerving.

Any movement is spotted
by his eagle eye.

Birds of various kinds now mob him.

They see him as a threat.

He'll soon learn to hide
himself away in the mottled
shadows of thick cover.

I have no doubt his parents do this
when they're hunting, their best
attack is a surprise attack.

The female returns.

She's brought a capuchin.

I'm quite surprised.

I thought she'd be catching
howler monkeys.

Where are all these capuchins
coming from?

They're not from the local troop.

Could I find out?

Moving very slowly and quietly
allows me to use my hearing
as well as not be heard.

Between the more familiar forest
sounds there's one that's new to me.

BANGING

The capuchins are gorging on fruit.

The rains must have brought
these on while we were away.

Totally pre-occupied
in these fruit laden trees,

this troop of capuchin must be
very vulnerable to eagle attack.

But what great timing
for the ever-hungry teenage eagle.

Remembering how James was attacked,
with no warning, from behind,

I look at these monkeys
and can imagine their quick fate.

The monkeys must dread those eagles,
but the chance to feast
must be overwhelming.

I wonder, have the eagles timed it
all deliberately to coincide

their breeding cycle with this
opportunity to exploit the capuchin?

But why still no howler monkeys?

In other places I've read
that they feed on them a lot.

Why don't my eagles catch them?

Our own troop of howlers
has always been in the same
trees close to the harpy nest.

What I do notice, is that they're
usually in the very top branches.

Exposed above the forest like this,
the eagle must struggle
to surprise them.

Look at them stay
in this tight group.

Without surprise, I guess the eagle
may not risk an attack, either.

I bet those howlers could fight back
if they weren't dispatched quickly
with a surprise dagger in the back.

It's an ugly scene in my head
but it reminds me again
of her strike on James.

She knew what she was doing.

She waited
until he couldn't see her.

And thinking about it,
we rarely see the howlers

out of this strange formation,
like a protective square, even
when they're just lounging around.

It's September now,
five months since he hatched.

His flight feathers have grown down
and by his excited look I think he
can feel them in his wing beats.

There are times when
he looks up to the sky,

to other birds of prey.

I sense he wants to join them

and it won't be that
long now before he will.

He'll be out of this tree, the only
world he's known since he hatched.

I'm attached to him now,

in a strange way.

I've grown fond of him.

I think he's keener to leave
the nest than I am to see him go.

Just having a big wing stretch.
Beautiful.

The harpy chick has now reached
an age when it's clearly beginning
to move around the branches,

and I'm sorting of
expecting it to fly quite soon.

It's not, probably, going to fly
in the next week, but sooner
or later it'll be airborne.

And that's quite a concern to me,
because there's a point at which

the whole focus of the film has
been possible because of the nest.

The moment of fledging
is hard to predict

and we've learnt as much as we're
going to until he's a bit older.

We're planning to come again
in four months' time.

What we weren't to know was
that it would actually be
the most exciting phase of all.

Four months later,
we're back in the forest.

I'm staggered to find my bird
still in the ceiba tree.

This time, as well,
he's barely recognisable,
he's a young adult now.

He's distinctly pale compared to the
adults. He's in very good condition.

He can fly well,
but why's he in the ceiba tree
and not out in the forest?

He seems hungry.

The female flies in with prey.

He's probably struggling to kill
regularly enough to survive,
but he's nearly a year old.

To still be dependent
on the adults at this age
is very unusual for an eagle.

But then, I guess not all eagles
survive on catching monkeys.

He's surrounded by beautiful birds
called red-rumped caciques

that have taken up residence in the
ceiba tree whilst we've been away.

He's watching and listening.

BIRDS CALL

They'd be too fast for him to catch.

He's just curious.

The forest is full
of strange sights and sounds.

The next morning,
the ceiba tree is empty.

He's gone, where?

He's way off...

..and in a different place each day.

Nothing misses his keen eye.

He's strong on the wing.

I suddenly think this could
be the last time I'd see him,

maybe for weeks.

And then, there is
the most extraordinary surprise.

Look! Look! Look!
She's just come into land!

The chick, the male,
can you see him?

Just come in on that branch,
come to look at her,
that is absolutely amazing.

I wonder if she'll stay there while
we climb. The male has taken off.

Just on the right branch.
It's the weirdest thing, Graham's
about to go up and do some filming

and to our amazement the male chick
has just come in and landed about
two, three metres from his hide.

Even as we're looking at him, he's
bobbing his head and looking at us.

He's just not bothered.
I think he might even stay there
when you go up the ropes.

I think he will, yeah. His mum,
of course, we know very well.

She's got very bad manners.

I don't think he's got any
real reason to attack us,
that's what I hope.

When I look at him through the
binoculars, his sight is so good
he's picking something up,

a reflection in the lens
and he's looking right down
the barrels at me.

It's quite alarming.
I'm glad I'm not a capuchin.

But he is the most beautiful bird,
absolutely beautiful.

He's so curious.

What does he want?

It's compelling.

Each morning, as I look for him,
I suspect he's looking for me.

He appears from nowhere.

He's taking everything in,
every sight and sound,
the capuchins as well,

their movements and timings.

I'm guessing he'll need
to gather this intelligence
quickly to outwit the monkeys.

These eagles are so calculating,
more than any other bird of prey
I've ever worked with.

It's probably why bird books mention
that young harpy eagles

can still be found in the nest area
for up to a year after they fledge.

They need every bit
of that time to master the art

of catching clever monkeys, while
their parents still support them.

And something else crosses my mind,

difficult to prove
but I think highly likely,
and that is that his parents

have quite deliberately
left the monkeys around
the ceiba tree alone, untouched.

They've been left for the chick!

This will be his training ground.

These eagles are exceeding
all my expectations,

yet our filming
has to draw to a close.

We can't stay in the forest
with this bird forever.

On our last day we start to
get our gear out of the tree

and he's drawn in to watch us -
this time closer than ever before.

It's an extraordinary moment for me,
as both a film maker and someone
who loves birds of prey.

Here we are just staring each other
out in a way that I've never
connected with a wild eagle before.

Graham, he is getting
ridiculously close to you. Over.

You could probably put your hand
out and touch those talons. Over.

I won't do that, don't want
to touch his talons again.

It's extraordinary. A huge wild
eagle just five metres away
from the cameraman...

..eyeballing us both, curious
to know what we're doing,

studying us.

In fact, he's bobbing at me
right now.

I would never have dreamt
that I'd connect in this way
with a wild forest eagle.

From the day we first saw him...

..our close encounters with
his fiercely protective
and loyal mother...

..to this young adult,
now free in the forest.

When we film birds of prey,
we tend to get close-ups
of the young when they're tiny

and when they fly,
we see them less and less.

Now, with this young eagle,
well, it's been the other way round.

Over the year that we've
been here, I've just got
closer and closer to him.

I've got so much respect
for these extraordinary eagles.

Realising now, as I do,
what they must endure
to survive and raise young.

On my last day, I was so sorry to
know that I wouldn't see him again.

My last sight of him was as he flew
away, very majestically,

into the great wild forest
of the Orinoco.