All language subtitles for Wild.Birds.of.Australia.Series.1.4of4.Feathering.the.Nest.1080p.HDTV.x264.AAC.MVGroup.org.eng

Australia - a land of diverse
and often extreme habitats,

with vast expanses of
wetlands,

dense forests

and arid plains.

(Shrieking)

It's populated by an immense
array of bird life...

..and many species found
nowhere else in the world.

Among them, some of
the most flamboyant...

- ..ear-splitting...
- (Shrieks)

..and bizarre birds
imaginable.

Successful breeding
is critical

to the survival
of their species.

They need to go to
exceptional lengths

to find mates...

..and raise their young...

..giving the next generation
the best chance of life.

This is the story of
breeding season.

For avian life,
Australia is a paradise.

There are more than 800
species of birds here.

(Squawking)

And over 370 of these are
only found in Australia.

But birds of a different
feather

don't always flock together.

Some prefer to live in
the rainforest,

like the golden bowerbird,
who builds

his U-shaped nest from twigs,

in the hope of
attracting a female.

The galah is part of
the cockatoo family

and can be found
in open country

across mainland Australia.

Some, like the Cape Barren
goose, thrive by the seaside

and can drink saltwater.

And many share their
environment with humans.

But, wherever they live,

these birds have got
their work cut out,

holding their territory
against invaders...

..attracting and winning
partners...

(Mating call)

..and safeguarding
their chicks.

Far North Queensland is famed
for its beautiful beaches.

And one stretch is named
the Cassowary Coast...

..because it's home
to one of the planet's

most extraordinary-looking
birds, the cassowary.

This is a mature female.

Queensland becomes steamier
and more tropical

as you head further north
towards the equator.

And its lush rainforests
are ideal habitat

for the cassowary which
thrives on forest fruits.

Like the Australian emu
and African ostrich,

she's a ratite,
or flightless bird.

Her flat breastbone has
no keel attachment

for wing muscles.

It's thought that ratites
evolved

around 60 million years ago,
in the Cretaceous period.

And she certainly looks
prehistoric.

She's solitary and usually
wary of humans

and can be hard to find
in the forest.

And she's huge.

Over six feet tall and
weighing more than 100 pounds,

like all female cassowaries,

she's bigger and heavier
than a male,

as well as more brightly
colored.

In the dark, dense foliage
of the jungle,

the shock of electric blue
on her throat,

the vivid turquoise around
her head and eyes

and dramatic red wattle,

all clearly identify her
as a mature breeding female.

Comparatively little is
known about this species.

There are several theories
about the purpose

of the curious crest on her
head, called a casque.

Although it looks hard
and horn-like,

it's actually leathery
and pliable,

formed by a keratin shell

growing over spongy
cranial bones

and enclosing a mysterious
empty chamber.

Cassowaries are omnivores
and feed on fruit, beetles,

insects, snails
and even carrion.

One theory is that the casque
helps them forage,

and serves as a helmet
as they dig through

dense undergrowth.

It may also protect the head
from falling fruit,

be used as a sound amplifier
or even a weapon in disputes.

The casque continues to grow
for life and could also

advertise a bird's status
and age.

Like the cassowary herself,

the casque remains steeped
in mystery.

This female has a home range
that overlaps

and passes through
that of several males,

who will each have
their own territory

of almost
three square miles.

It's August, breeding season
for this big bird,

but she's already parted
from her mate.

She recently paired up with
this male and laid his eggs,

but that's the end of
their time together.

Female cassowaries don't
raise their young.

Instead, they leave it up to
the male to incubate the eggs

and later on,
care for the chicks.

She can have several partners

over a four-month
breeding season

and she's already on the
lookout for another mate.

The cassowary isn't the only
Australian bird to have

parenting arrangements
like this.

This is a male brush-turkey.

He's part of the megapode
family,

literally meaning
"large foot".

He also lives
in the rainforest,

in Cairns,
far north Queensland.

Brush-turkeys are very
adaptable and can be found

all along the eastern coast
of Australia.

By September,
springtime in Australia,

the brush-turkey is hard
at work preparing a nest.

He'll spend all day,
every day,

scratching around in one spot
on the forest floor.

He may stop for a quick feed
on insects...

..but then it's back to work.

He piles up leaf litter,
twigs and earth into a mound.

This will play a vital part
in his breeding strategy.

He rakes up the layer of
debris on the forest floor

with his strong legs
and large feet

and adds it to his
little hillock.

Then he turns over
the existing pile

again and again, breaking it
down into a fine compost.

If all goes to plan,
this will become a warm nest.

He's an average size
for a brush-turkey,

around 26 inches long,

but the mound
he's obsessively working on

will end up being
a whopping 13 feet wide

and between
three and six feet high.

And it's got to be good.

Females roam around
selecting multiple partners

and won't mate with him

if his mound isn't up
to their standards.

So a lot's riding on its
meticulous construction.

The brush-turkey is
a relatively common bird

and there are already several
females in the vicinity,

who have smaller,
paler wattles.

They're regularly checking
out his progress

and will wait
until the mound is complete

before deciding
whether to mate with him.

But, right now,
this brush-turkey

is only interested
in one thing...

..his mound.

While he's still working on
his masterpiece,

he doesn't want anyone near
it, male or female,

and sends out a warning

to any other brush-turkeys
in the vicinity.

(Warning call)

Stay away!

In the elevated Atherton
tablelands

of Northern Queensland,
higher and cooler

than their often
sweltering surroundings,

it's October and breeding
time for a very exotic bird.

This is the Victoria's
riflebird,

named after
the British Queen,

but is known as the duwuduwu

to the Aboriginal
tribespeople.

He's a bird-of-paradise.

A fairly small bird,
at around ten inches long,

he has an iridescent sheen
to his feathers.

His breeding season can last
up to six months,

so he's got to keep
his strength up

by eating fruits and insects

he digs out of
the bark of trees.

Snack over, it's time to get
back to business,

attracting a mate.

He's got a core area of
between two to seven acres

where he spends
most of his time.

Within that space, he selects
a conspicuous vantage point,

like a tree stump,
as his display area.

Having a good location
to display in is all part of

his strategy to get
the females interested.

So he's territorial
over his posing post.

Usually, his stage will be
under a gap

in the canopy cover, so that
the sunlight can stream

a spotlight to reveal
his glowing feathers

to their best advantage
and then...

(Mating call)

..he blasts out
his mating call.

It's loud and unmistakable.

This raspy cry is just
to make sure

he gets the attention of any
female that might be nearby,

before launching into
his piece de resistance.

It's a dramatic,
full wingspread display,

that shows as much of
his plumage as possible.

Erecting his feathers

before throwing out his wings
is part of the act.

And so is opening
his beak wide

to show the bright yellow
interior.

He keeps going,

hoping to pique the interest
of a female.

And, finally, he's graced
with an audience.

Unlike the male
with his glorious plumage,

female riflebirds
are a dull brown.

But after just a few seconds,

she loses interest
and flies off.

It's thought the females may
base their mating choices

on quality of display,

so perhaps this male needs
to brush up his skills.

(Mating call)

While his display is
impressive,

this is Australia,
home of the fantastic,

so there's another bird that
can win a showing-off contest

with the riflebird
hands down.

The lyrebird.

Lyrebirds live in temperate,
often wet woodland

in the coastal southeast of
Australia.

This one has made his home
in a forest outside Melbourne

in the southern state of
Victoria.

They're clumsy fliers

and spend most of their time
on the ground.

Both the males and the
females are a reddish brown

and have powerful legs
with long toes,

ideal for raking over
the leaf litter and soil,

looking for food,
such as cockroaches,

spiders and worms.

A male lyrebird will also use
leaf litter and earth

to build a display mound
to dance on.

He may have over a dozen of
these in his territory.

At first glance,
he may seem unremarkable.

But as mating season
approaches

during the winter months,

the male reveals
his amazing talents.

(Whistles and warbles)

28-inch-long feathers

fan out from his tail,
which he drapes over his head

in a waterfall formation.

(Squawks and whistles)

A male will start getting
his display feathers

when he's around
three years old

and these get gradually
longer every year

until he hits sexual maturity
at around seven.

The more mature the male,
the longer his tail feathers.

12 silvery fluffy feathers,
bookended by two thick,

banded feathers
called lyrates

and two long, slender
median feathers

make for a show-stopping
performance.

And if that isn't enough
to thrill the ladies,

his song is one of the most
extraordinary

of any creature
on the planet.

(Warbles)

(Squawks)

(Whistles)

(Warbles)

The lyrebird can imitate
almost any sound it hears,

including other birds
and animals.

Captive birds have even
copied man-made sounds,

like trains, camera shutters
and car alarms.

(Squeaks)

As this male lives
deep in the forest,

he rarely hears
artificial noises

and instead he's woven
the calls

of the other birds that
he hears into his own song.

In all, he's included the
calls of 12 other species.

The purpose of having
such an amazing talent

for impersonation is unknown,
but it's thought

that the more complex a song
the male can produce,

the more attractive
he is to females.

His phenomenal ability comes
from a special voice box.

A bird's vocal organ is
called a syrinx.

The lyrebird's is more
complex than that of other

songbirds, which gives him
extraordinary flexibility.

He sings for 20 minutes
at a time,

for several hours a day,

until a female
is attracted to him

and allows him to mate.

After copulation,
he'll return to displaying,

to attract the next one.

There's a female nearby,
but she isn't showing signs

of being impressed
by his performance.

And now a rival male has
barged into his territory

and is displaying
to the same female.

Both female
and male lyrebirds

are fiercely territorial,

with an average territory of

three to six acres.

The competition is on.

The resident male tries
to chase the interloper out.

But he doesn't succeed in
pushing him far away.

And they end up displaying
within feet of each other.

It turns into
a real talent show.

Finally, the resident bird
manages to chase the invader

out of his territory.

But the female has seen
and heard enough.

Today, she's not interested
in either of them.

She puts on a show
of her own,

with no mimicry,
just her own beautiful song.

Meanwhile, in the forest
near Cairns,

the brush-turkey has managed
to breed

and now has a clutch
of up to 24 eggs

buried in the depths
of his mound.

His little hillock is now
almost three feet high,

but he's still hard at work.

He's the sole custodian
of these eggs.

Because the females
move around

from partner to partner,
it's impossible

for him to know whether
the eggs in his mound

were actually fertilized
by him or another turkey.

Regardless of their
paternity,

he'll tend the mound
for the seven weeks it takes

to incubate the eggs.

The heat caused by
the composting action

of the plant material will
keep the eggs warm.

Heat sensors in his beak
enable him to determine

the temperature of the mound
and he'll regulate it,

by adding or removing
material.

He's aiming for a temperature

of between 91 and 95
degrees Fahrenheit.

At 93 degrees, there will
be an equal division

between male and female
chicks.

If cooler, there will be
more male chicks,

if warmer,
more female chicks.

He guards the eggs until it's
almost time for them to hatch

and then it's all up to
the chicks.

They must dig their way out
of the mound

and fend for themselves
immediately.

Brush-turkey eggs and chicks
are a favorite food

for carnivorous lizards,
snakes and wild dogs.

And it's not just animal
predators who pose a threat

to the brush-turkey's
successful breeding.

Rural gardens frequently back
onto brush-turkey habitat

and the turkey's practice

of making enormous breeding
mounds in people's backyards

can lead to these precious
piles of compost

being destroyed.

A single egg only has
a one-in-200 chance

of making it to adulthood,
so the brush-turkey's eggs

have still got
a long way to go.

Just as the female
brush-turkeys don't have

any involvement in incubating
or rearing their young,

neither do the much larger
cassowaries.

And, back on
the Cassowary Coast,

the female is far away from
the eggs she laid this year.

With parenting being the
responsibility of the male,

she's free to spend her time
foraging.

These giant birds are
generally very shy,

but this female lives close
to a beach

frequented by humans,
which is far from ideal.

But there are some good
feeding opportunities here.

These beach almonds provide
a useful source of protein,

along with the insects
she eats in the jungle.

Next to the beach is a
campsite and she's not afraid

to make use
of the amenities here.

Cassowaries need to drink
frequently.

Her legs have
their ankle joint

equivalent to where humans
have their knees,

so she can bend easily
to reach the water.

She has clearly become used
to the humans here,

but this isn't a good thing.

Beachgoers are warned
not to feed the cassowaries.

It can be dangerous
for such a large animal

to associate people
with food.

Becoming accustomed to humans

can make the massive birds
more aggressive.

Not only is she one of

the heaviest birds
in the world...

..she's equipped with a
razor-sharp, five-inch dagger

on her dinosaur-like
inner toe,

which she can use
to vicious effect.

A high proportion of
documented attacks have been

perpetrated by birds who have
been fed by people.

Which may be what's worrying
these picnickers.

Whenever cassowaries
come out of the jungle

in search of human food,

the greater the risk
to their survival.

They're more likely to cross
roads and be hit by cars.

The rate at which they're
the victims of road accidents

is of grave concern to
conservationists.

Cassowaries are classified as
an endangered species.

Luckily, she gets back
to the jungle safely

to look for the more typical
items in her diet,

insects and,
crucially, fruit.

Cassowaries are a called
"a keystone species",

because of their ecological
importance.

They're able to swallow
fruits almost whole

and have what is known as
a "gentle" digestive system,

meaning that the fruits are
excreted

with the seeds still intact
and flesh still on them.

Fruits stay in the gut
for less than four hours,

but in that time the
cassowary could move

to a completely
different area,

distributing the fruit
species more widely.

So the survival
of the cassowary is vital

to the continuation
of many other species.

In the mild climate of
the woods around Melbourne,

the male lyrebird is still
going strong

with his spectacular display.

(Whistles)

(Squawks)

(Warbles)

He'll spend four hours a day
singing for another six weeks

until the end of
the breeding season,

mating with as many females
as he can.

These birds have a division
of labor

that's found more frequently
in the animal kingdom.

Unlike the cassowary, it's
the female of this species

that will tend the egg
and rear just one chick.

Although he's busy trying
to attract more partners,

he's already had
some success.

He's mated with this female,

who now has a very big job
to do.

She's in charge of
building the nest.

First on the list:
Gather some nesting material.

She collects some moss,
leaf litter, pieces of fern

and twigs until she's got
enough to create a cozy nest.

She even uses the male's
feathers to line it.

It's a matter of personal
preference

as to where she sites
her nest.

Some females make their
nests close to the ground.

Whilst others choose sites
high up in the trees.

Ten to 14 days after mating,
the female lays her egg.

She just lays one a year,
unless the egg or chick dies.

If this happens and it's
early enough in the season,

the female can mate again
and lay another egg.

Six weeks later, up in
the cozy but dark little nest

in the tree,
her chick hatches.

Now it's Mum's job to keep
her hungry hatchling

supplied with food
until it can leave the nest.

She must feed her chick
every 20 minutes.

She spends large parts
of the day gathering up grubs

and small insects, which
she carries in her throat,

ready to feed to her young
when she returns to the nest.

Because of the rigorous
feeding schedule,

she will even venture out
at night looking for food,

a time when she's most
at risk from predators

like foxes and cats.

Four weeks later,
the lyrebird chick is fat,

fluffy and healthy.

With his nest being
so high up in a tree,

his wings need time
to develop,

so he can fly safely out
when he fledges.

He'll spend ten weeks
in the nest before leaving.

Chicks in nests closer to
the ground don't need to wait

for their wings to develop
as much and will leave

at around six weeks
to go and live independently.

While the female is tending
to her hatchling's every need

the male is still putting on
a performance,

but with a different purpose.

The males molt
their tail feathers

at the end of every
breeding season,

so he won't have his prize
plumage for very much longer.

(Whistles)

(Warbles)

At this time of year,
these displays are all about

defending his territory,

rather than
attracting a mate.

Even when his tail feathers
are gone,

he'll still live
in the same territory.

He wants to keep exclusive
rights to this area

for the next breeding season.

He'll attack anyone who dares
to transgress his borders.

The other male in the tree
has come uncomfortably close

to his patch, he may be
challenging the resident male

to see if he can take over
his territory.

The resident male responds

by making his display
even more robust.

But it doesn't put off
the intruder,

who gets even closer.

As things get more heated,

they move further and end up
down by the nearby creek.

The resident male asserts
his dominance by crowding

and charging the trespasser,

pushing him towards the edge
of his territory.

Finally, he gets the rival
on the run.

For now, his territory
remains intact.

While the lyrebird
is singing and dancing,

the male cassowary

has childcare duties
to attend to.

Because, in stark contrast to
the lyrebirds' arrangements,

it's the male cassowaries
who make the nest,

incubate the eggs
and look after the chicks.

His four chicks are already
around 11 weeks old.

He'll stay with them
for another six months,

teaching them to look for
food and water.

They're striped for
camouflage,

but, by six months,
they'll lose their stripes

and become a uniform
mousey brown.

They won't begin to get their
distinctive vivid coloring

until they're around a year
to 18 months old.

Then the chicks will leave
their dad's territory

to establish their own.

The male lives in a forest
that adjoins a house

and sometimes crosses
the garden here,

bringing his chicks with him.

While three of them
are robust,

one of them seems to be
weaker than the others.

This little chick struggles
to keep up.

She may be sick.

Infant mortality in
cassowaries is very high.

Predation, diseases,
habitat destruction

and road accidents all claim
young cassowary lives.

Out of these four chicks,

it's likely that only one
will survive to adulthood.

For now, their dad takes
care of their every need.

It can be rainy and humid

in this tropical part of
the country,

but, today, it's extremely
hot - 86 degrees Fahrenheit.

Dad's brought his brood out
here for the good foraging,

but now he needs to get them
out of the sun.

When he decides to move on,

the sickly little chick
falls behind again.

She may not make it to
adulthood, but her father's

attentive care will
at least ensure

she has the best chance
of survival.

The family crosses the road
back into the forest.

As they depart,

the female cassowary appears
from the forest.

She may be the chicks'
mother,

but she's free of
parental obligation.

She helps herself to a drink.

Even though there's a chance

she may run into her
ex-partner and chicks,

she won't take any interest
in their welfare.

From the tropical north...

..to the temperate south,

Australia's birds
are some of the world's

most singular and exotic.

At every stage
of the breeding season,

they're hard at work.

The strenuous job of
attracting a mate...

..defending a territory...

..building a nest...

..and tending to vulnerable
chicks...

..are all fraught
with danger and difficulty.

These vibrant, talented

and eccentric birds...

..all adopt their own
breeding tactics

to get the next generation
safely on its way.