All language subtitles for Great.Migrations.S01E04.Feast.or.Famine.720p.BluRay.x264-Pahe.in

They are born to move.

To pursue the feast.

Defying the desert
with ancient wisdom.

Gracefully chasing
the nurturing sun.

Pursuing titanic prey
in turquoise seas.

Marvels of motion...

in search of a meal.

Right now our planet
is on the march...

on the wing...

on the run.

And these are the tales
of its relentless hungers...

in the most moving stories on Earth.

The stories of the great migrations.

On the scorched edge
of the Sahara Desert,

mammoth silhouettes shimmer
like mirages in the heat.

Rare desert elephants—
the last of their kind...

cling to life in a world
that can barely sustain them—

dedicated to sustaining each other.

This is Africa's infamous Sahel—

arid scrublands marking
the southern fringe of the Sahara.

The only way to survive here
is to move—

in an endless quest
for water and food—

both in desperately short supply.

So these great creatures

take on the longest
elephant migration on Earth—

in a vast, 300-mile circle

around the heart of landlocked Mali
in West Africa.

To lead them
in their desert wanderings,

each family looks
to the matriarch—

the oldest female.

She has spent decades
memorizing the migration route,

knowing where and when water and food
is most likely to be found.

They can smell it now—

water, just over the horizon—

a desperately needed way station
in their migration.

[cattle lowing]

But they are not the only nomads
making their way here.

The local Tuareg and Fulani herders
know the oasis lies just ahead.

lt is Lake Banzena—

a glittering blessing
in a world of thirst.

Of the many birds drawn here,

red-billed quelea come
by the hundreds of thousands—

perhaps the most numerous
bird species on Earth.

ln a haze of quelea,
the elephants arrive—

and finally slake their thirsts.

The cattle drink contentedly.

But the elephants take their enjoyment
to a higher level.

[elephants trumpeting and rumbling]

Now family after family emerges
from the Sahel into the oasis,

matriarchs at the helm.

A new arrival has made
her appearance,

just a couple of weeks old,

delighted to gambol in the mud

under the watchful eye
of her mother and aunts.

She is so precious to them.

After nearly two years
in the womb,

the biological investment
she represents is enormous.

Patient mothers and aunts
crowd gently around her.

She will need their tender wisdom
during the long trek ahead...

because Lake Banzena will not
last long in this year's drought.

And the elephants
desperately await a signal

to resume their scorching migration
towards their next sanctuary:

A rare uninhabited opening
through a sheer wall

separating them from where
the rains should soon fall.

lt's called la porte des elephants—
the elephant's door.

The intelligent elephants
have passed down the knowledge

of how to get here and when
for countless generations.

Other creatures reflexively
follow the seasons—

compelled to keep moving
despite terrifying risks—

simply to keep themselves fed.

Some follow their senses—
to brief explosions of food.

And some seem to be all hunger,
all instinct, all the time—

somehow knowing where
their prey are gathering—

oceans away.

ln the cobalt gloom
of the Pacific,

a solitary wanderer
makes its way east:

the great white shark.

She is one of the world's
greatest migrants,

covering thousands of miles
of open ocean a year.

Hunger is driving her—
and dozens of other sharks—

toward a stupendous feast
150 miles off the coast of Mexico.

The shark's enormous appetite

propels her through
3,000 miles of ocean:

an annual migration
that stretches from Hawaii

to the island of Guadalupe.

This volcanic thrust of rock
is unwelcoming and unforgiving.

But its waters are
another story altogether—

abundant with marine life.

The strange mola mola...

dolphins...

rare beaked whales...

and countless Guadalupe fur seals.

Nature's perfect huntress arrives:

the giant female great white—

more than 15 feet long
and weighing nearly a ton.

The shark seems
uninterested in the seals.

And the agile seals
seem to know it.

Apparently she has something
much bigger and slower on her menu...

the northern elephant seal.

After many months at sea,

and a migratory wandering
of up to 13,000 miles,

scores of these giants
have hauled out here

to pup and mate...

some already bearing the scars
of the great white's hunger.

[snoring and rumbling]

But not all of the elephant seals
have arrived yet.

Young females, making their first
homecoming to Guadalupe to breed,

are hauling out late.

[bellowing]

They are innocent
of the ways of the sharks...

and the sharks are wise
in the ways of the seals.

lt is a gruesome collision
of nomadic giants...

a feast for one,
death for another.

Once sated, the great whites
will move on—

heading for distant Hawaii—

and their next moveable feast.

While the sharks follow
their long migrations in the Pacific,

another highway of hunger

conducts the winged masses
of the Americas

from feast to feast.

lt is the Great Mississippi Flyway.

Spring comes slowly
in the Upper Mississippi River Valley—

but this great artery
is always pumping

with the lifeblood
of avian migrations.

The white pelican,
like tens of millions

of North America's migrating
waterbirds and shorebirds,

follows this ancient route.

[ducks quacking]

Some will stay here
to greet the summer,

to mate and breed,

and feed on the Mississippi's
abundant offerings.

For some, it is a refueling depot
on the way further north.

But for the predators
riding their tailwinds...

the migrants themselves
are the feast.

The swooping silhouette
of a bald eagle

sends ripples of terror
along the waterways.

[ducks quacking]

But he is here
for easier pickings.

The melt thrusts countless fish
out of their graves.

lt's a bizarre seasonal exhumation,

and raptors keenly follow
its northward progress.

White pelicans,
on their way further north,

await better flying conditions.

The unmistakable mallard duck

conducts his gentle courtship
in a driving rain—

and defends his patch of river
with comic ferocity.

Many, like the mallards,
may stay here to raise their young.

But for others...spring
whispers urgently to head north.

Raptors like this adolescent bald eagle
work their way along the river bluffs,

riding the thermals and updrafts.

Sometimes they blunder
into someone else's airspace.

These peregrine nestlings
would seem exposed and vulnerable.

But their mother is a fearless
defender of her nest site...

which the bald eagle
is about to learn.

The peregrine falcon,
whose name translates to "wanderer,"

has one of the longest migrations
of any bird in North America.

Some come from
as far south as Peru;

others may reach the Arctic.

From this perfect vantage
on the flyway,

falcon parents raise their brood
on the many smaller migrants,

like songbirds,
now passing through.

Gaping beaks demand
up to a dozen corpses a day

from their harried parents.

[squawking]

The constant comings and goings
on the river mean one thing—

the menu for the great raptors
is about to change again.

Half a world away,

far from the hustle and bustle
of the mighty Mississippi,

lie the islands of Palau,

which plays host
to a remarkable migratory feast

made possible by an even more
remarkable partnership.

12,000 years ago,
melting glaciers fed rising seas...

and the ocean began to seep
into a speck of an island in the Pacific,

creating a lake like no other.

The few creatures
that trickled in here with the sea

evolved in quiet isolation.

And the most triumphant survivor
gave the lake its name...

Jellyfish Lake.

Golden jellyfish by the millions
thrive here,

but have a bargain to keep.

A bargain that drives two
remarkable daily migrations

of mutual hunger.

The jellyfish survive,

thanks to millions of generous guests
that actually live inside their bodies—

tiny, dynamic algae
that turn sunlight into sugar.

The sugar feeds the jellies,

and the jellies dedicate their lives
to tending the algae.

And so they follow the sun.

At dawn, it begins.

The sun's flare beckons,
and the jellyfish stream eastward.

Flapping bells propel them towards
the light that will feed this symbiosis.

Five million golden creatures,
colored by the algae they harbor,

glide across the lake's surface.

On the far edge of theirjourney
lies darkness...

the shadows.

Blind but acutely sensitive to light,

they sense the lake's edge

and the mangroves
that harbor predators.

Shifting tides bring some
into the dark underworld.

Cardinal fish await the strays—

alongside the innocuous looking anemone,
waving deadly tentacles.

Little blennies nip at the jellies' arms,
rendering them rudderless...

to drift into the voracious grasp
of the anemones.

Once trapped, the jelly
is attacked from all sides.

lt is a lucky jellyfish
that escapes

from the merciless
mangrove shallows alive.

And those that do
beat a hasty retreat...

back to light and life...

in pursuit of the now
westward-leaning sun,

to feed its internal fellow travelers,
its algae.

But as the sun falls,

their Faustian bargain
will call upon the jellyfish

to make a more dangerous
migration...

into a terrible and toxic abyss.

All migrating animals
make dangerous bargains

in their search for food.

They risk becoming
food themselves.

They surmount
formidable barriers...

chasing rains that may never fall,

blossoms that may not bloom,

grasses that may not grow.

When nature doesn't hold up
her end of the bargain...

they are stalked by starvation.

And on the cracking oasis
of Lake Banzena in Mali,

the nurturing sun
is turning deadly.

[elephant rumbling]

ln just a few weeks,

the elephants have watched the lake
disappear before their eyes.

The water, churned and polluted
by elephants and livestock,

turns to muck.

But they can't leave here until
the rains begin to fall to the south,

allowing them to take up
the next leg of theirjourney.

They're stripping the vegetation
at the lake's edge at an alarming rate.

The elephants hurry back
to the waterhole,

their month-old baby in tow.

Today, there is yet another
addition to the herd—

a calf, just hours old,
unsteady and painfully thin.

All of the youngsters will struggle
on the forced march to come...

but the newborn is in real trouble.

And this is a place without pity.

Noon finds the baby lying
in the savage equatorial sun...

his mother trying
to urge him to his feet

while his worried grandmother
looks on.

No amount of encouragement
can rouse the stricken baby.

His mother is just a teenager—

in elephant terms,
very young to have a baby—

perhaps too young.

She will not willingly leave him.

But now an interloper
appears on the scene.

A young bull, apparently mistaking
the smells of her recent birth for estrus,

drives her into the bush.

Grandmother lingers for a while,
keeping a hopeless vigil.

But soon she, too, will be forced
to return to the business of eating

in preparation
for the journey ahead.

For now, though, they are
virtually trapped here.

Only one thing will make
their break for freedom,

something other than
a suicide run.

[thunder]

And finally it comes:

the distant promise of rain
over the horizon.

[rumbling]

But there is one sad ritual
to attend to before they leave—

the mysterious and moving
elephants' funeral.

They return to the dead newborn,

its sad remains mummified
in little more than a week

in the intense dry heat.

With infinite tenderness,
they smell, touch and hold the bones.

lt is said that only human hearts
can be broken.

But the elephants' final goodbyes
seem to speak volumes of hurt.

The little girl, though,
seems healthy and strong.

She'll need to be, because the race
of her young life is about to begin.

An apocalyptic sight
unfurls on the horizon:

and day is about to become
suffocating night.

[birds calling]

Summer sets in
along the upper Mississippi.

Hot humid days lie heavily
over new swamps,

where the river
has slopped over its banks.

But these waterways
provide cover

for three exuberant
Canadian goslings.

These precocious babies are born
knowing how to swim

and to feed on the river's rich supply
of plants and insects.

And July is about to touch off
a fantastic blizzard of food.

ln the muck at the bottom of the river,
something is stirring.

These are mayfly larvae,
and they're about to erupt, all at once...

by the millions.

Clutching at low-hanging vegetation,

they burst as adult flies
from their larval shells...

and they're on a mission.

They have just 24 hours
in which to fly, mate, give birth...

and die.

This dense whirling dervish
of sex and death

is so thick it shows up
on weather radar.

Now the feasting begins.

Songbirds have come
by the millions for the banquet...

some having bitten off
more than they can chew.

Birds are not the only beneficiaries.

Leaping, flying leopard frogs
hurl themselves at the yearly feast—

leading with their tongues.

But the vast majority
of these bugs survive,

to shed their spawn
back into the Mississippi...

then die, bringing the feast
back to the water.

Now, changing colors
announce the arrival of fall—

reversing the flow on the winged highway
from northbound to south.

The season brings the bald eagle
a mighty and macabre feast.

The American coot,
many coming back from Canada,

headed as far south
as Central America.

They huddle together in tight "rafts"
for safety in numbers.

But safety for the flock
and safety for the individual

are not the same thing.

When a coot is snatched
by fierce talons,

its ordeal has only begun.

A single coot
might be caught, stolen

and dropped into the water
six or seven times

before it is consumed.

For the eagles, this seems like
some sort of ghastly game.

[eagle cries]

The gray days of fall

urge the summer residents
and those passing through

to move on.

The little geese are now
completely transformed,

and utterly dedicated to the proposition
that they should be airborne.

So bonded are they
to one another

that they don't yet
understand the need

for a wing's breadth
of elbow room.

Soon enough, they will break free
of their Mississippi nursery

and join the honking wedges
headed south...

criers of the winter to come.

lt's time for final farewells
to this part of the river—

and the skies
of the Mississippi Flyway

fill again with the enthralling sight
of feathered migrants on the wing.

Day is turning to night
in the South Pacific,

and it's time for the jellyfish

to carry out the more dangerous part
of their mortal bargain.

The algae that live inside them,
that feed them,

now need to be fed a toxic brew.

One that lies 45 feet down.

And so they sink, through the layers
of the lake's waters.

They descend in search
of the bacterial layer,

which decomposes
the lake's dead organisms,

full of nutrients the algae
desperately need.

But for the jellies,
it's a wasteland:

poisonous pink
hydrogen sulfide swirls...

there is no oxygen here.

Those who remain down here
too long will suffocate...

victims of their life-or-death bargain.

But those who remain
just long enough

to soak their algae
in rich nutrients

return to the surface...

and wait...

ready to rush towards the dawn,

to begin their sun-worshipping
migrations once again...

feeding and fed
in perfect synchronicity.

ln central Mali, it's as if
the world were ending.

A 60-mile-an-hour tsunami
of sand and dust

engulfs the elephant family.

The storm galvanizes the matriarch
and the herd.

They will make a break south,
towards the elusive smell of rain.

The human nomads
follow in their footsteps,

knowing the elephants can read
the weather far better than they.

[elephant rumbling]

As the dust settles,
and the days drag on,

matriarchs join forces,

families merging
into a huge elephant army.

There are expanding human settlements
along the route,

and the wary elephants find their passage
being narrowed year by year.

Youngsters struggle to keep up.

But adults, too, are felled
by the killing heat.

At the head of the march,

the matriarch of matriarchs senses
that they are nearing their goal:

that rare human-free passage
through the sheer cliffs

that stand between them
and their next oasis.

At dawn, as the sun kisses
the edge of the elephant's door,

they finally arrive, energized
by the seductive smells beyond.

[thunder]

Now nothing stands between them
and the rains falling a day's march ahead—

no more cliffs or humans.

There, they will be able
to rest and eat—

before they resume
their ancient journey.

Testament to the wisdom
of their mothers,

the last of the great
desert elephants survive...

to soldier on against the odds...

moving together...

surviving as one.