All language subtitles for National Geographic The Living Edens 02of24 Namib Africa (eng)

Searing heat and burning sand.

Only specialists call this desert home.

Its unexpected neighbour is an ice-cold ocean.

And the narrow strip where
they interact offers a chance

to those that are tough enough to take it.

This borderland is Namib

Africa's burning shore.

Stretching 1900km along the west coast of Africa,

the Namib desert is the oldest in the world.

It has been dry for at least 55 million years

and year after year can pass
without any rain at all.

This is one of the driest places on earth

But there is life here...

unique creatures adapted to cope
in conditions that few could survive

The wind that shapes and drives the dunes

blows in from the south across the Atlantic

and the icy waters that chill its shores.

The seas off the Namib coast are very rich

and teem with tiny plants and animals...

food for fish,

and the fish are food for others too.

But why is the water so rich in life

when the desert is so poor?

The answer is the wind.

As the wind blows surface waters northward

cold water from the deep
surges up to take its place.

With it come nutrients from the seabed

the fuel for ocean life.

The streaming sea along the shore

forms the Benguela current.

Because it's so cold,

it tempers the climate of Namib.

And because its sea life is so prolific,

it attracts birds.

They flock here by the million.

Three quarters of southern Africa's
flamingos feed along these shores.

Flamingos filter their food
from the salty water,

sifting tiny plants and crustaceans
from the incoming tide.

The pelicans, cormorants and
other seabirds live on fish.

Cape cormorants are the most
numerous birds on the coast.

At the start of the breeding season,

they gather up any scraps they can find

to cobble together simple nests.

One hundred thousand nest here.

Each pair will lay three to five eggs.

They may rear only a single young,

but that's still an incredible number

in such a desolate place...

and cormorants are only one
of the species that breed here.

Early in the southern summer,

the winds blow their strongest,

and the upwelling of the Benguela current

is at its most vigorous.

All the seabirds time their breeding

to take advantage of the seasonal
boom in the fish population.

Cormorants and gannets nest
on offshore islands.

They're safer from ground predators

than they would be on the mainland.

They might have some protection from predators

but escaping the heat is impossible.

The seas around may be close to freezing,

but on land the African sun can be burning hot.

Seabirds aren't designed to live in a desert.

The Cape gannets are lucky

that their white feathers reflect heat,

so they turn their backs to the sun to keep cool.

Unfortunately the cormorants'
black plumage absorbs sunlight,

so they cool down by panting to release heat.

They also release something else

that surprisingly protects
other birds from the sun.

It's not a coating of guano

that keeps the sun's rays off the jackass penguins

but the years of accumulation on the rocks

that lets them excavate shady nest sites

and shelter from the sun.

Penguins at the edge of a desert

seem a strange sight

but the Jackass is found only in Africa

and its here because of the fish
in the Benguela current.

Even so, the heat can still get unbearable

and a parent will briefly abandon
its young to cool down.

Swimming does more than
keep the penguins cool.

It washes the guano off their feathers.

Keeping their plumage clean
and groomed is vital.

Their feathers insulate them
from the heat of the sun

as well as the cold of the sea.

Many other fish hunters thrive
on the edge of the desert

and once a year instinct drives some of
the larger ones onto the hot shore

to start the business of reproduction.

South African Fur seals.

More than half a million breed
along the edge of the Namib...

and this is never a quiet affair.

The large bulls are the first to come ashore.

If they are to attract females

they must successfully establish
territories along the edge of the surf.

The best territories lie close to the water,

where it's easier to keep cool.

This is prime real estate,

aggressively protected from other
males hunting for a better location.

Young males are no match
for the heavier mature bulls.

They're forced to the edge of the colony.

It will be a tough time until mating is over.

Even for older males,

hanging on to territory is a constant struggle.

It's zero tolerance for all
male intruders and newcomers.

If a bull can't command
a prime patch of beach

then he won't be fathering the next generation.

When female fur seals eventually come ashore

they don't pick a mate;

they select the coolest places.

Within hours of arriving they give birth...

to pups that were conceived here last year.

The bulls won't rear the young

and there is no evolutionary
advantage in doing so;

they will almost certainly be
the offspring of another male.

The births are synchronized,

hundreds of thousands in just a few weeks.

As soon as it's born,

pup and mother exchange calls.

The mother will soon leave the pup to fish

and if they are to find each other again

they must recognize each other's call.

Smell is vital, too

and reinforces their picture of each other.

On such a crowded, noisy beach

the first few days of life are critical.

Losing touch with their mother

would be fatal.

Dark pups absorb the sun's rays

and are prone to overheating.

The only shade on the beach

is cast by their mothers.

About six days after giving birth,

the females are ready to mate

and so are the males.

This is what the bulls
have been waiting for...

the payoff for their struggle to
control a good stretch of beach.

The breeding season lasts
less than six weeks...

but in that time a male can mate
with as many as 70 females.

By the end of the season,

their fighting and mating

will leave the bulls exhausted.

Bull fur seals can weigh 8 times
as much as their partners...

and females have sometimes been smothered

when bulls fall asleep "in the act."

The drive to reproduce must be very strong.

Wind is responsible for so much

that is unique about Namib.

It triggers the cold current

that makes the shore so rich in life.

And year by year

it builds the majestic sand dunes.

Wind constantly shapes and drives
the dunes up the coast to the north.

The sands are always on the move,

leaving no foothold for animal or plant

no shelter from the midday sun,

or the night-time chill.

Temperature control is an essential
for survival in the desert

- there are no constants here.

Desert dawns are cold,

so the lizard presses its body
against the sand

to absorb whatever heat is left.

But all too soon

the sand heats up to as much
as 65 degrees Celsius.

How does it stop its feet getting fried?

Standing up lifts its body off the sand...

then it raises each foot in turn

to save it from being burned.

Long legs help the desert cricket

less than 2 centimetres up

can be 17 degrees cooler.

The long-legged beetle keeps
even cooler by running...

creating its own wind.

Dune grasses are rare oases

their footholds are landmarks and focal points

for any wildlife that can make use of them.

Landmarks are a problem for long-legged dune ants

there are just too few of them,

so navigation is difficult.

Most ants lay scent trails,

but trails would be blown away out here.

Dune ants navigate by the angle of the sun.

The ants build their nests under the grass.

It gives shade from the sun

and shelter from the wind...

and food.

The grass is infested with scale insects;

the ants milk them for their
sweet secretions of honeydew.

As the sun climbs higher,

the sand grows unbearably hot.

Cricket and beetle must seek out shelter.

Not surprisingly vegetation
is rare in the desert,

so the ants defend their grass against intruders.

The cricket clambers upwards,

away from the hot sand.

It's cooler up in the breeze.

And it's cooler just a few
centimetres under the sand

- it's also out of the way of the ants.

It's only with adaptations like these

that life can survive in the
extremes of the Namib desert.

It is unforgiving

and its name in the local language means

"a place where there is nothing".

But where did this vast desert come from?

How did so much sand arrive in one place

to be blown into dunes 300 metres high?

The sand wasn't created here;

it is an immigrant from the east.

In the green center of southern Africa,

the Drakensberg mountains rise
to more than 3,400 metres.

They stand as a barrier to moisture-bearing
winds from the Indian Ocean,

forcing them upwards to condense
as cloud and rain.

Surprisingly, it's these lush,
well-watered highlands

that are the birthplace
of the Namib's dry dunes.

From a swamp high in the mountains,

the Orange River carves a turbulent passage

2000km west to the Atlantic.

When the river rises in flood,

it strips the land bare,

as millions of litres of water
deluge the granite mountains.

The relentless power
of the water is awesome.

Over countless years the Orange River has
carved deep fissures into the landscape,

pounding tonne upon tonne of granite,

breaking it down into tiny grains

and carrying it away.

When the river reaches the Atlantic

it releases its cargo

as it has done for millennia.

From here,

the sand is swept north
on the Benguela current

then blown inland to build
the shifting dunes of Namib.

Between wind and water,

these grains can travel over 2000km.

Like water eroding the granite mountains

the winds sculpt and shape the dunes

slowly pushing them northward,

metre by metre,

grain by grain.

The wind will die only at sunset,

when the desert starts to cool.

The night is a different world

and brings new challenges for survival.

Animals that would shrivel
in the heat of the day

emerge to hunt...

or be hunted.

Creatures like the scorpion,

sun spider,

and gecko

who have spent the day hidden in
cool burrows beneath the sand,

now begin their nightly business
of scraping a living in Namib.

Again, adaptation is the key to success.

For its size, the gruesome sun spider

boasts some of the largest jaws
in the animal kingdom.

Adaptation may result in the loss of
one sense for excellence in another

a specialized predator is
on patrol under the sand.

Grant's golden mole.

A tiny, blind hunter with hidden ears

sensitized to vibrations
from prey like termites.

By plunging its head in the sand,

the mole can detect termite
colonies many metres away,

which is quite a distance for a
mammal the size of a man's thumb.

A golden mole can cover 5km
a night in search of food.

Termites are a favoured prey...

but the golden mole also hunts beetles

and even small lizards.

Hunting in the night

is at the opposite extreme
of hunting in the day.

After dark, temperatures
can drop almost to zero

so the mole must keep eating to stay warm.

Its sense of smell is good,

but even at close range detecting movement

is its main way of finding prey.

Fossils of golden moles
date back 40 million years,

so its adaptation to desert life

seems to be a success.

Before dawn,

the mole will bury itself
deep underground

and as the cold sand drains
the heat from its body,

it will enter a state similar to hibernation

until the next night.

In the chill light of dawn,

a thick fog drifts in from the sea.

These coastal fogs form when warm,
moist air from the Atlantic

blows across the cold Benguela current.

The fogs regularly travel up
to 50 kilometers inland

bringing a precious commodity to the desert.

Moisture from the fog condenses
on the desert grass...

even on the bodies of the animals.

For many this is the only
chance of a regular drink.

Some beetles have adapted their behavior

in an astonishing way to capture moisture.

On cold misty mornings

it climbs right to the very crest of the dune.

There it turns to face the wind,

and raises its body to meet the incoming fog.

Moisture condenses on its back,

and trickles down to its mouth.

The miracle of water in the desert

is short-lived.

As the rising sun warms the desert,

the fog evaporates...

burning back to the coast.

Cold blooded creatures need to raise
their body heat in the morning sun

before they can function fully.

A chameleon basks broadside to the sunrise

It darkens its body to absorb more heat.

When one side is done,

it turns to heat the other.

Cold-blooded animals rely on the sun's heat

to raise their body temperature,

but they don't want to raise it too far.

For the sidewinder,

the desert heat is a mixed blessing.

Dunes of hot desert sand are loose

and hard to travel across.

The sidewinder copes with the problem

by adopting this unique style of movement

where only two short sections
of its body are in contact

with the sand at any one time,

using its muscles to lever itself across.

By raising its body off the surface,

it also reduces contact with the hot sand.

As snakes go,

sidewinders are small...

less than a 30cm long.

They hunt by ambushing their prey.

Sooner or later,

something edible will visit this tiny oasis...

Sidewinders don't need to feed every day,

which is just as well as food and water

are always scarce in the Namib desert.

Before long the sun and wind

have evaporated any remnants
of the morning fog;

the desert is a shimmering cauldron of heat.

For larger creatures,

like ostrich and gemsbok,

the fogs can never bring enough moisture.

If they are to survive,

they must find surface water.

The few seasonal rivers
that attempt to flow west

from the interior are lost in the sand

long before reaching the ocean.

But surprisingly there is water is here,

if you know where to look.

Even though Sandgrouse
are adapted to desert life

and can live on dry seeds

they still have to drink every day.

Morning and evening,

they fly as much as 60km in search of water

The Namib isn't all sand

there are gravel plains and dry riverbeds

Beneath these beds lie underground
reserves of water..

and in a few places,

it reaches the surface.

These occasional oases

give some plants and animals
a chance at survival

in an arid wilderness.

Sooner or later

anything that can fly or walk

comes to drink.

The sandgrouse are here to do more

than quench their own thirst.

They will quickly give way
to larger creatures,

but before they leave,

the males do something peculiar.

The males, and only the males,

bob up and down in the water

but they are not having a bath.

Then the sandgrouse fly off
deeper into the desert -

but where are they going

and what where the males doing?

Warthogs must drink every day,

so they cannot travel far from the
dry riverbeds and their waterholes.

But gemsbok are better suited
to life in the desert.

They can go without water for days,

gleaning enough moisture from their diet

and they have a remarkable adaptation

that keeps them from overheating.

Gemsbok can tolerate temperatures
that would kill other animals.

Their blood can rise to 45 degrees in the sun

but a network of vessels in their nose

cools it before it reaches the brain.

The sandgrouse are near
the end of their journey

but what was that mysterious
bobbing in the water for?

Like their parents,

sandgrouse chicks must drink every day.

But they can't fly to the waterhole,

and it's too far to walk.

So their father brings water to them.

No other bird can carry water like this.

The absorbent breast feathers are unique.

Vultures are the last to arrive
at the waterhole in the morning.

They depend on thermals to soar,

and must wait until the desert warms

before flying any distance.

But once the temperature is up
they gather from kilometres around

There is an existence to be had here

if the harsh environment can be endured.

Those animals that can adapt claim a niche

that few others can compete for.

True desert animals are well-equipped

to deal with the heat of the day.

But what about the fur seals
of the burning shore?

Fur and blubber may be perfect insulation

for the freezing waters of the Benguela,

but they're a problem

when it comes to the heat of the African sun.

The seals hold their flippers
up in the breeze

to maximize loss of heat.

And they lie as close as
they can to the surf...

within reach of the cooling spray.

For those that can't win a place
in the splash zone,

the alternative is to
rest high up on the beach...

as high as possible,

for the benefit of any
cold wind from the sea.

But this is very much second best.

Sooner or later the searing
heat becomes intolerable,

and they must return to the water.

Small pups are more likely to overheat.

Their mothers must nurse
them for the first week,

so when they go for a swim

they take their pups with them

and park them in the cooling spray.

The journey may look
like one hell of a ride,

but it's better than being
left to bake in the sun.

Pups don't start swimming

until they're two months old,

so their mothers must leave them

when they go to feed in the sea.

They're left to sweat it out on the beach.

Finally an escape from the desert
heat for the mother seals.

In the water, seals are in their element.

On land, they're awkward and ungainly.

And wherever there are young,
vulnerable offspring,

there are predators.

The desert that backs the shore
gives some protection,

but the coast has its hunters...

on the lookout for the weak and defenseless

A jackal.

The mothers won't come back
until they have fed.

The youngsters must fend for themselves.

Seals have been breeding here
for thousands of years.

In the distant past, this was an island.

But over the centuries,

sand swept north by the Benguela current

joined it to the mainland.

So now the jackals have
the run of the colony.

The jackal gives a pup an exploratory nip

to see how strong it is.

A solitary jackal prefers the weak or sick.

A more serious threat arrives;

a brown hyena.

The hyena is much larger than the jackal

and will take healthy pups.

Seals can see well underwater,

but on land they're very short-sighted

If something keeps still,

they will approach it.

Perhaps there's safety in numbers...

and jackals are more scavengers than killers

A jackal's best chance
for a taste of seal meat

is to shadow a prowling hyena.

For most of the year,

hyenas scavenge a meager living in the desert.

But for just a few weeks,
when the seals are breeding,

the supply of food seems almost unlimited

The hyena's scouts for the best opportunity

It's looking for a sleeping
or unattended pup.

A mother seal could drive the hyena off;

a pup on its own stands no chance.

For the colony, death is a fact of life

a fifth of pups won't survive
their first month,

many dying from heat stress.

With so many pups around

the hyena will eat only
the best parts of each kill,

leaving the jackals
to squabble over what's left.

Though hyenas kill hundreds
of pups each year,

hundreds of thousands survive.

For the fur seals,
like many other animals here

the balance between life and death

is tilted in the right direction.

Namib is a harsh land

and survival here is all about balance;

living on a knife edge between
the opposites and extremes

of heat and cold,

wind and water,

see and desert shore

For those who can adapt and find a niche

it's a balance worth striving for.

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