All language subtitles for Brazil.Untamed.Series.1.2of5.Bird.Paradise.1080p.HDTV.x264.AAC.MVGroup.org.eng

- In one of the world's largest
tropical wetlands,

life is driven
by seasonal extremes.

At the peak of the dry season...
(birds calls)

...romance is in the air.

Here, even humans are forced
to follow the rhythms

of the Pantanal's seasons.

The Pantanal is home
to over 650 species of birds.

(bird calls)

A brilliant kaleidoscope
that comes in every

color, shape, and size.

They thrive in this
immense wetland.

More than ten times larger
than the Everglades,

the Pantanal lies
in the heart of South America.

80% is covered in water
in the rainy season.

Now at the peak
of the dry season,

when fish and other
aquatic animals are trapped

in the shallow pools
and shrinking marshes,

thousands of birds congregate
in this natural paradise...

...to breed and raise
their young.

The royalty of the Pantanal
are the jabiru.

The glorious wings
of these magnificent storks

span up to ten feet.

This female jabiru is expecting
her mate to return to the nest.

She's watching
over three chicks

who are impatiently
waiting to be fed.

The adults look alike,
but the male is usually about

25% larger
than the female.

The chicks are
about a month old,

so now they are
often left alone.

So day after day they sit
exposed to the unrelenting sun,

and in the middle
of the dry season,

they're always
begging for water.

It'll be another two months
before the chicks learn to fly.

About six more months before
they're completely independent.

And they're keeping
their parents busy.

(baby birds calls)

It's time for
the main course.

Father jabiru regurgitates
the dinner.

Eels.

(baby birds calls)

One of the jabiru's
favorite foods.

Enough for
the whole family.

The jabirus are raising their
young on a tight schedule.

The rains will start
in less than two months.

Flying and fishing skills
take time to learn.

The adults hold their beaks
at forty-five degrees,

just the right angle to skim
the water's surface.

When they sense their prey,
they quickly close their bill.

When they're three
and a half months old,

the chicks will leave
the safety of the nest

and have to hunt
for themselves.

With their parents help,
the chicks will master both

fishing and flying before
the heavy rains

of the monsoon season
turn this savannah

back into a vast wetland.

But for now, these lowlands are
a hotbed of activity

for the diverse bird population
of the Pantanal.

Even at its driest, this area
still has ponds and marshes,

and a river
flowing through it.

And that's why the very rare
hyacinth macaws have picked

this spot to breed.

Over three feet long from the
top of its head to the tip of

its tail, the hyacinth macaw is
the largest of all the parrots.

But it's not too large
to squeeze through a narrow

opening into a safe
and cozy home.

(bird calls)

Over 90% of
hyacinth macaw nests

are found inside the hollows
of manduvi trees.

The soft wood of the tree's
trunk allows the macaws

to dig out
a roomy shelter.

Macaws lay a clutch of two
or three eggs once a year.

When the eggs hatch,
the competition for food will be

so fierce only one hatchling
is likely to survive.

(macaws calls)

While the female
incubates the eggs,

the male is in charge of
bringing her food and water.

(macaw calls)

A small pond is just
a few steps away.

Although they do drink water,
they get most of the moisture

they need from
the food they eat.

One of the hyacinth macaw's
favorite foods

is the acuri
palm fruit.

Inside is a tasty nut,

but it's got a hard shell
that's tough to crack.

Macaws have an easier way
to get at it.

Cattle are also fond
of the acuri fruits.

Once they swallow the fruits,
their multi-chambered stomach

does the rest, breaking down
the hard inner shell

that contains the nut.

Finding the nuts is a simple
scavenger hunt for the macaws.

The best breeding spot for
the birds of the Pantanal

happens to be on a
25,000 acre cattle ranch.

The Nelore is a hardy,
heat tolerant breed

similar to the Brahman
and the Zebu,

and was imported from India
about two hundred years ago.

They've been grazing on the
native grasses of the Pantanal

ever since.

While the dry season is a time
for the birds to stay put

and focus on breeding, it's
a time for the cattle to move.

(screaming)

Just like the birds
and other local wildlife,

the cattle and the ranchers
have learned to adapt

to the drastic seasonal
changes of the region.

The cattle have eaten most of
the grass in their pasture

and they need to move before the
rainy season brings the floods.

The cowboys drive the herd to a
fresh pasture on higher ground.

It'll take ten cowboys
three days to move

the one thousand head
of cattle across

twenty-five miles
of wetland and savannah.

(screaming)

In just a few weeks,
with the return of the rains,

much of this land
will be underwater.

Then fish rather than cattle
will travel over the grasslands.

Most of the birds will leave
as the fish disperse

over a wide area
and become hard to find.

Here, in bird paradise, there
are no deep and dark forests.

Only small clusters of tropical
trees growing out of the water.

This is a tree island.

It began its life
as a small watery patch

of dense vegetation, and over
time grew bigger and bigger,

until a few trees took root and
eventually formed an island.

Now it is a lush sanctuary
for several species of birds.

(forest sounds)

This island is home
to the noisiest birds

in the Pantanal...

(bird calls)

...the chaco chachalaca.

Some call them the samba birds,
after their sing-song calls.

The cattle ranchers call them

the "alarm clocks
of the Pantanal!"

(bird calls)

They start at dawn and don't
stop screeching until sundown.

(squawking)

The squawking stops just long
enough for the chaco chachalaca

to take a bite
of a juicy fig.

Their bad reputation isn't
just for making a racket,

it also includes a more
serious crime.

They're guilty
of killing palm trees.

After the chaco chachalaca
has digested the figs,

some of the seeds carried
in its feces fall

onto the upper branches
of a palm tree,

where there's
a lot more sunlight

than in the dark forest below.

When the seeds germinate,
they don't only grow up,

they also grow down.

The vines that sprout from
the fig seeds wrap around

the trunk of the palm,

spiral down to
the forest floor,

and take root in the moist,
fertile soil.

Over the years, the vines
thicken and strengthen,

wrapping the palm in
a parasitic strangle hold,

and never let go.

It can take decades,
even a century,

for a strangler fig to kill
a mature palm tree.

This acuri palm fell victim to a
strangler vine many years ago.

Its days are numbered, but it's
still producing acuri fruits,

the much-loved food
of the hyacinth macaw.

While some macaws
scavenge cattle dung

for partially digested
acuri fruits,

others collect them directly
from the bunches hanging
on the trees.

But it's a lot more work.

Their sharp beaks and powerful
jaw muscles open

the tough fruits and crack
the inner shells.

Their unusual tongue, reinforced
with a hook shaped bone,

scoops out the nut.

If a tough or slippery fruit
won't open,

the clever macaw has
a tool for that.

Sometimes they'll use a
green leaf to act as a wedge

to keep the fruit from moving.

And if that doesn't work,

it's back to the toolbox
for another tool.

This time it's a sliver of wood
that stops it from slipping.

Success!

This pair of macaws
is also responding

to the call of
the breeding season.

They have a nest nearby, but
have yet to produce any eggs.

They're in no rush, courtship
seems just as much fun.

Hyacinth macaws mate
for life.

Their courtship rituals,
preening and feeding each other,

help these birds
reinforce their bond.

Back at the marsh, another
loyal couple is hard at work.

Alone in the nest, the jabiru
chicks are thirsty and hungry.

But when the father jabiru comes
home with a beak full of sticks

and twigs, the chicks
are disappointed.

There's no water or tasty eels
in his pouch on this trip.

All the coming and going
takes its toll on the nest

so repairs are necessary.

The nest is critical
to the chicks' survival.

The mother jabiru takes care
of the construction

using materials provided
by the father.

Because of their size,
adult jabirus can defend

themselves, but their chicks
are vulnerable.

The nest protects them from the
most dangerous predators below,

but they're still exposed
to predators coming

from above

like this crested caracara, the
key scavenger of the Pantanal.

Caracara won't tangle
with an adult jabiru.

It prefers easier targets

like the chicks.

The cautious mother
takes no chances

and shelters her young
under her wings.

This jabiru family
have built their nest

on some prime
real estate...

...at the top
of a tall tree.

The few bare branches
are strong enough

to support the family
and their home,

and there's plenty
of room for their big wings.

In other regions
of the Pantanal,

perches like this are
few and far between,

but here there's enough

to accommodate
many jabiru families.

In a nest nearby, four juveniles
about twelve weeks old

look like they're ready
to begin flying lessons.

The parents leave them alone
for longer and longer periods.

With their large, sharp beaks,

they're old enough
to defend themselves,

or at least signal danger by
clacking their beaks loudly

in alarm.

Their parents have worked
on their nest for quite a while.

It's become so big, several
families of monk parakeets

have moved into
the basement apartment.

They are year-round tenants.

When the rainy season comes,
the monk parakeets stay put,

while the jabiru adults and
their young rejoin their flocks

and spread out across
the lowlands of the Pantanal.

The cattle also need to move...

...to greener pastures above
the reach of the floods

when the monsoon rains come.

The cowboys move along
at the herd's natural pace.

They don't want the beef cattle
to burn too many calories

and lose weight.

Cattle have panoramic vision,

which means they can see
everything around them except

what's directly
behind them.

So the cowboys and their dogs
drive them from the rear...

...and nudge the strays
back into the herd.

The pastures they've left
behind are depleted.

The ranchers set fire
to the dry fields

to prepare for the fast
approaching rainy season

and stimulate new growth

for the next season.

Burning the pastures is
a two centuries old tradition.

And for the predators
and scavengers,

the flames bring
new opportunity.

A savannah hawk scans
the smoky landscape for prey.

Small animals trying
to escape the heat and flames

risk running straight
into an ambush.

If the hawk doesn't strike
from the air,

its cousin, the caracara,
will intercept on the ground.

The caracara is a falcon.

Unlike most falcons, however,
the caracara is not a
fast-flying predator.

It's an opportunist, hunting and
scavenging in a variety of ways.

Because it's small and light,
it patrols the grasslands

by flying much lower
than other scavengers.

On the ground it searches
for small prey and carrion.

This caracara is lucky.

It found this carcass
before the vultures.

Once they land, they're quick
to take over.

Back at the nesting site,
another jabiru family

is raising its young.

Jabirus don't build their nests
in large colonies,

but you'll often find a
few nests in close proximity

because of the trees
they choose.

This female still keeps a close
eye on her two chicks,

although they're almost ready
to fledge.

Even once they can fly,
it'll be many more weeks

before these teenagers
are truly independent.

The parents are busy
working overtime

making more and more trips
to the ponds and marshes

to keep them supplied with food.

The shallow water in this pond
makes it a popular spot to fish.

The jabiru stork has an
advantage over the other birds

that gather here.

A giant inflatable pouch
for carrying food and water.

The water is shallow
but it's murky.

Catching a fish you can't see
takes a lot of patience
and skill.

The jabiru have
plenty of both.

With their long legs,
they wade along the edges.

The tip of their beak
is sensitive

and they find their prey
by feel.

They know there's plenty
of tasty little fish

and other animals
hiding in the mud.

With water levels so low
at this time of year,

the fish have to come
to the surface for oxygen.

Some prey, like this giant
snail, are too much work.

Others take a little more work,
but are worth the effort.

It takes a little while, but
the adults eventually manage

to fill up their pouches.

They scoop up water
and food in one gulp.

And carry the whole load
back to their nests.

At the nest, the fledglings
patiently wait

for the male to return
with the goods

while the female
stands guard.

And when a caracara
flies too close...

...the mother acts as a decoy

and tries to lure it away
from her chicks.

Scavengers rarely prey on
large birds like the storks,

especially not the jabiru,

but this mother
is taking no chances.

(bird calls)

The black collared hawk
is another bird of prey

that calls
the Pantanal home.

From his perch, he scans
the river for any signs of fish.

His sharp talons
are perfect for grabbing

and holding onto his prey.

But fishing takes
a lot of skill...

...or a little luck.

If at first you don't succeed,
try again.

His perseverance is rewarded
with some easy pickings:

fish that probably died
from a lack of oxygen.

During hard times, the black
collared hawk might feed

on water bugs or rodents,

but there's
no need today.

Although the abundance of fish
in this area makes it

a perfect breeding place
for birds,

not all birds
come here to fish

and not all birds will leave at
the end of the breeding season.

The red ovenbird is a year round
resident that eats insects.

He's also an expert architect.

He collects mud and straw
to build his nest.

This nest is now home
to three chicks.

It's oven-like shape
keeps the heat in.

It acts like an incubator
and allows the parent

to have more time to forage.

Lunch is whatever
insect comes by.

This one goes down
the hatch.

This one she brings home.

(squealing)

She quarrels with
unwelcome visitors.

This is private property and
the red ovenbird is particular

about territory.

Now it's back to hunting.

(baby birds calls)

This non-stop pick-up and
delivery service will go on

for about three weeks.

After that, the fledglings
will be expected to do
their own shopping.

For now, they're at the mercy of
their hard working parents.

This yellow-headed caracara,

a cousin of the
southern crested caracara,

can't believe
its good fortune:

three small hatchlings with
no parental supervision.

They would make an easy meal
compared to the ticks

that are usually
on its menu!

(squealing)

The mother spots the intruder
from afar and screeches.

(squealing)

It was a close call,

and there'll probably be
many more this season.

Even in the dry season,
there are still a few places

where trees are in bloom and
fruits are ripe for the picking.

The streams and rivers team
with fish

and the banks are flush
with aquatic plants and insects.

And hundreds of thousands
of birds.

It's a glorious banquet table
set for one of the world's
most ancient predators:

the caiman.

The smaller cousin of the
alligator and the crocodile.

By some estimates,
over ten million caimans live

and hunt in the wetlands
of the Pantanal.

The largest caiman population
on the planet.

Birds and crocodiles
are distant cousins.

Caimans evolved from
the same group that gave rise

to dinosaurs and birds.

Caimans are nocturnal,
and during the day

these reptiles mostly
just bask in the sun.

Those are impressive
looking teeth,

but caimans hunt in water
not on land.

Their open mouths help them
regulate their body temperature.

The caiman has spotted
a white egret hunting for fish.

The egret scans the water.

It's so focused on catching
its own lunch

it hasn't noticed
the stealthy caiman.

A splash spooks
the egret just in time.

Back on land, the cowboys and
their cattle are approaching

the end of
their long journey.

The grass is getting better
with every step

towards the higher pasture.

But the good food
comes too late for some.

One animal fell sick and died,
and was left behind...

...to the delight of
this flock of vultures.

Unlike most vultures,
black vultures don't have

a great sense of smell

so one of them must have
spotted it from the air.

The good news is they've got it
all to themselves.

The bad news is, there are
no caracara here

to slice open
the cow's thick hide.

Vultures depend on the smaller
caracaras' formidable talons

and beaks to do
the carving for them.

Although the vultures
look tough,

their feet are weaker
than other raptors

and their beaks are
not as curved,

so they start with
the soft parts.

Vultures rely on one another
to find dead animals,

and wherever
there is one,

there are soon many squabbling
over the banquet.

There is a hierarchy
at dinnertime.

The younger ones are always
the last to dine,

although a dominant bird
sometimes has to re-assert

its position.

Back at the jabiru's nest

there's trouble
in bird paradise.

The steely-eyed caracara looks
like it's just taking a stroll,

but it's hard at work, foraging.

High above, there are only
two chicks in the jabiru nest,

but there should be three.

This jabiru chick probably
fell out of the nest.

(squealing)

This is the harsh reality
all jabiru parents live

with every breeding season.

They lay between
three and five eggs,

but even the hardest working,
most protective

and diligent parents often
lose one or two chicks.

Twenty-eight miles away,
the herd, with one less cow,

finally reaches
the new pasture.

There's enough fresh grass
to feed the entire herd

until the end
of the wet season .

It's getting late.
The sun's low on the horizon

and it's time for the cook
to earn his pay.

While the herd settles down
for the night,

the cowboys gather around
the fire for dinner.

At home or in the field,
the cowboys follow the rhythms

of the Pantanal:
up at dawn and to bed at sunset.

It's a traditional way of life,

like this dinner
of "arroz carreteiro",

or "wagon rider's rice"...

a mixture of rice, beef,
peppers and onions,

shared with a visitor.

When night begins to fall,
they sling their hammocks,

rig the mosquito nets,

and wash the pots and pans,
ready for the next day.

Down in the lowlands,
a large flock of black ibis

returns to its dormitory
and settles in for the night.

In a few more weeks, the winds
will bring dark clouds,

heavy with rain, to empty their
load over the southwestern tip

of the Pantanal.

The breeding season will be
over until next year,

when the water recedes and
nature signals that it is time

to start again in bird paradise.

♪♪

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