All language subtitles for The.Blue.Planet.S01E01.The.Blue.Planet.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

David Attenborough:
Dwarfed by the vast expanse

of the open ocean,

the biggest animal that has ever
lived on our planet.

A blue whale, 30 meters long
and weighing over 200 tons.

It's far bigger
than even the biggest dinosaur.

Its tongue weighs
as much as an elephant.

Its heart is the size of a car,

and some of its blood vessels
are so wide

that you could swim down them.

Its tail alone is the width
of a small aircraft's wings.

Its streamlining,
close to perfection,

enables it to cruise
at 20 knots.

It's one of the fastest animals
in the sea.

The ocean's largest inhabitant

feeds almost exclusively
on one of the smallest--

krill, a crustacean
just a few centimeters long.

Gathered in a shoal,

krill stain the sea red,

and a single blue whale in a day
can consume 40 million of them.

Despite the enormous size
of blue whales,

we know very little about them.

Their migration routes
are still a mystery,

and we have absolutely no idea
where they go to breed.

They are a dramatic reminder

of how much we still have
to learn about the ocean

and the creatures
that live there.

Our planet is a blue planet.

Over 70% of it
is covered by the sea.

The Pacific Ocean alone
covers half the globe.

You can fly across it nonstop
for 12 hours

and still see nothing more
than a speck of land.

This series will reveal

the complete natural history
of our ocean planet

from its familiar shores

to the mysteries
of its deepest seas.

By volume,

the ocean makes up 97%

of the Earth's
inhabitable space,

and the sheer quantity
of marine life it contains

far exceeds that
which inhabits the land.

But life in the ocean is not
evenly spread.

It's regulated

by the path of currents
carrying nutrients,

and the varying power
of the sun.

In this first program,
we will see

how these two forces interact

to control the distribution
of life

from the coral seas
to the polar wastes.

The sheer physical power
of the ocean

dominates our planet.

It profoundly influences
the weather of all the world.

Water vapor rising from it
forms the clouds

and generates the storms

that ultimately
will drench the land.

Can you feel it?

You're exactly where
you're meant to be right now.

You and me,
we could do anything.

Us against the world.

Welcome to the Theatre
des Vampires.

You have no idea
what I'm capable of.

My word means something.

We need you...

...to lead
the revival of humanity.

You deserve
a happy ending.

Well, guess this is it, then.

The great waves that roar in
towards the shores

are dramatic demonstrations
of its power.

Waves originate far out at sea.

There, even gentle breezes
can cause ripples,

and ripples grow into swells.

Out in the open ocean,
unimpeded by land,

such swells can become gigantic.

It's only when an ocean swell
eventually reaches shallow water

that it starts to break.

As it approaches the coast,

the water at the bottom
of the swell

is slowed by contact
with the seabed.

The top of the swell,
still traveling fast,

starts to roll over,

and so the wave breaks.

The ocean never rests.

Huge currents,
such as the Gulf Stream,

keep its waters constantly on
the move all 'round the globe.

It's these currents,
more than any other factor,

that control the distribution
of nutrients

and life in the seas.

A tiny island lost
in the midst of the Pacific.

It's the tip of a huge mountain

that rises precipitously
from the sea floor

thousands of meters below.

The nearest land
is 300 miles away.

Isolated seamounts
like this one

create oases
where life can flourish

in the comparatively empty
expanses of the open ocean.

But all the creatures that swim
beside it would not be here

were it not
for one key factor--

the deep ocean currents.

Far below the surface, they
collide with the island's flanks

and are deflected upwards,

bringing with them
from the depths

a rich soup of nutrients.

Such upwellings attract
great concentrations of life.

Most of the fish here
are permanent residents

feeding on the plankton--

the tiny floating
plants and animals

that are nourished
by the richness

brought up from the depths--

and they in turn attract
visitors from the open ocean.

Tuna.

The plankton feeders
are easy targets.

All this action attracts
even larger predators.

Sharks.

Hundreds of sharks.

These silky sharks are normally
ocean-going species,

but the seamounts
in the Eastern Pacific,

like Cocos, Malpelo,
and the Galapagos,

attract silkies in huge groups

up to 500 strong.

Silkies seem to specialize
in taking injured fish

and constantly circle seamounts

on the lookout for the chance
to do so.

But silkies are not
the only visitors.

Hammerheads gather in some of
the largest shark shoals

to be found
anywhere in the ocean.

Sometimes, thousands will circle
over a single seamount.

But these sharks are not here
for food.

They have come
for another reason.

Some of the locals
provide a cleaning service.

Following the last El Niño year,

when a rise
in water temperatures

caused many sharks to suffer
from fungal infections,

the number of hammerheads
visiting the seamounts

reached record levels.

Nutrients also
well up to the surface

along the coasts
of the continents.

This is Natal on South Africa's
Eastern seaboard.

It's June, and just offshore,

strange black patches
have appeared.

They look like immense
oil slicks up to a mile long.

But this is a living slick--

millions and millions

of sardines
on a marine migration

that, in terms of sheer biomass,

rivals that of the wildebeest
on the grasslands of Africa.

These fish live
for most of the time

in the cold waters
south of the cape,

but each year,
the coastal currents reverse.

The warm Agulhas current

that usually flows down
from the north

has been displaced by cold water
coming up from the south,

and that has brought up
rich nutrients.

They in turn have created
a bloom of plankton,

and the sardines
are now feasting on it.

As the sardines travel north,

a whole caravan of predators
follow them.

Thousands of Cape gannets
track the sardines.

They nested off the Cape
and timed their breeding

so that their newly fledged
chicks can join them

in pursuing the shoals.

Below water, hundreds of sharks
have also joined the caravan.

These are bronze whaler sharks,

a cold-water species
that normally lives

much further south.

These three-meter sharks

cut such great swathes
through the sardine shoals

that their tracks are clearly
visible from the air.

Harried by packs of predators

and swept in
by the action of the waves,

the sardine shoals are penned
close to the shore.

Common dolphin are coming in
from the open ocean

to join the feast.

There are over a thousand
of them

in this one school.

When they catch up
with the sardines,

the action really begins.

Working together, they drive
the shoal towards the surface.

It's easier for the dolphins
to snatch fish up here.

Now the sardines have no escape.

Thanks to the dolphins,

the sardines have come within
the diving range of the gannets.

Hundreds of white arrows
shoot into the sea,

leaving long trails of bubbles
behind each dive.

Next to join the frenzy
are the sharks.

Sharks get very excited
when dolphins are around.

That may be because they
can feed particularly well

once the dolphins
have driven the sardines

into more compact groups
near the surface.

As the frenzy continues,

walls of bubbles drift upwards.

They are being released
by the dolphins,

working together in teams.

They use the bubbles

to corral the sardines
into ever tighter groups.

The sardines seldom cross
the wall of bubbles

and crowd closer together.

Bubble netting in this way

enables the dolphins to grab
every last trapped sardine.

Just when the feasting
seems to be almost over,

a Bryde's whale.

The survivors head on
northwards,

and the caravan of predators
follows them.

Nutrients can
also be brought up,

though less predictably,
by rough weather.

Particularly near the Poles,

huge storms stir the depths

and enrich the surface waters.

And here in the South Atlantic,

the seas are the roughest
on the planet.

And very rich seas
they are, too,

for here, the cold
Falklands Current from the south

meets the warm Brazil Current
from the north,

and at their junction,
there is food in abundance.

These black-browed albatross
are duck diving for krill

that has been driven up
to the surface.

Like all albatross,
black-brows are wanderers

across the face
of the open ocean.

A feeding assembly on this scale
is a rare sight.

Most of the time,
the birds of the open sea

are widely dispersed.

But these feeding grounds
are close to

an albatross breeding colony,
and a very special one.

This is Steeple Jason,

a remote island in the far west
of the Falklands.

It has the largest
albatross colony in the world.

There are almost half a million
albatross here,

an astonishing demonstration
of how fertile the ocean can be

and how much food it can give

even to creatures
that do not actually live in it.

Nutrients by themselves
are not enough

to generate these
vast assemblies.

The heat and light
that the sun brings every day

is also essential for the growth

of the microscopic floating
plants, the phytoplankton.

And it's the phytoplankton

that is the basis
of all life in the ocean.

Every evening,

the disappearance
of the sun below the horizon

triggers the largest
migration of life

that takes place on our planet.

One thousand million tons
of sea creatures

ascend from the deep ocean

to search for food
near the surface.

They graze on the phytoplankton
under cover of darkness.

Even so, they are far from safe.

Other marine hunters
follow them,

some traveling up
from hundreds of meters below.

At dawn,
the whole procession returns

to the safety
of the dark depths.

The moon, too, has a great
influence on life in the oceans.

Its gravitational pull creates

the daily advances and retreats
of the tide.

But the moon has more
than a daily cycle.

Each month, it waxes and wanes
as it travels round the Earth.

And this monthly cycle also
triggers events in the ocean.

The Pacific coast of Costa Rica

on a very special night.

It's just after midnight,
and the tide is coming in.

The moon is in its last quarter,

exactly halfway
between full and new.

For weeks,
the beach has been empty,

but that is about to change.

At high tide, turtles
start to emerge from the surf.

At first, they come
in ones and twos,

but within an hour,

they are appearing
all along the beach.

They are all female
ridley's turtles,

and over the next
six days or so,

400,000 will visit
this one beach

to lay their eggs in the sand.

At the peak time, 5,000
are coming and going every hour.

The top of the beach
gets so crowded

that they have to clamber
over one another

to find a bare patch

where they can dig a nest hole.

A quarter of the world's
population of ridley's turtles

come to this one beach
on a few key nights each year.

The rest of the time,

they are widely distributed
through the ocean,

searching for food,

most, hundreds of miles away
from here.

This mass nesting is called
an arribada.

How it's coordinated
is a mystery,

but we do know
that arribadas start

when the moon is either in
its first or its last quarter.

Forty million eggs are laid
in just a few days.

By synchronizing their nesting
in this way, the females ensure

that six weeks later,
their hatchlings will emerge

in such enormous numbers
that predators on the beach

are overwhelmed,

and a significant proportion
of the baby turtles

will get past them
and make it to the water.

But why do the females
use a cue from the moon

to help in synchronize
their nesting?

Part of the answer to that

becomes clear at dawn
on the following morning.

The day shift of predators

are arriving
for their first meals.

Vultures have learnt
that the returning tide

can wash freshly laid eggs
out of the sand.

The risk of eggs' being exposed
by the surf

may be part of the reason why
turtle arribadas tend to occur

around the last or first quarter
of the moon.

It's on such days as this,

when the moon is neither full
nor new,

that the tides are weakest

and the sea is likely
to be calmer.

So at these times it's easier
for the female turtles

to make their way
through the surf,

and there's less chance of their
eggs' being washed

out of the sand
and being taken by the vultures.

The moon's monthly cycle

and its influence on the tides

triggers many events
in the ocean,

from the spawning of the corals
on the Great Barrier Reef

to the breeding cycles of fish.

But there's an even
longer rhythm

that has the most profound
effect of all--

the annual cycle of the sun.

The sun's position
relative to the Earth

changes through the year,

and it's this
that produces the seasons.

In the North, spring comes

as the sun begins to rise
higher in the sky.

Off the coast
of Northwest America,

the seas are transformed

by the increasing strength
of the sunshine.

Here in Alaska,
the coastal waters turn green

with a sudden bloom
of phytoplankton.

Herring that have spent
the winter far out to sea

time their return
to the shallow waters

to coincide with this bloom.

They come in vast numbers
and initiate

one of the most productive
food chains in all the oceans.

Humpback whales are at the top
of that food chain.

They have spent the winter

breeding in the warmer
tropical waters off Hawaii,

but there was little food
for them there.

This herring bonanza
provides the vast majority

of their food for the year.

Stellar and Californian
sea lions

also return from the open ocean

each year
to feast off the herring.

The herring themselves, however,
have not come here for food.

They are about to breed.

Nothing deters them

as they head
for even shallower waters.

Now the waters are so shallow

that glaucous-winged gulls

are able to snatch live fish
from just below the surface.

In spite of these attacks
and losses,

the herring swim on
until they reach the vegetation

that the females need
if they are to lay.

Each female produces
around 20,000 eggs,

and they're very sticky.

The males arrive soon after
the females have spawned

and release their sperm
in vast, milky clouds.

Soon, the excesses
of the herrings' sexual spree

creates a thick white scum
on the surface.

Through the season,
curds of sperm clog the shores

for hundreds of miles

from British Columbia
in the south

all the way
to Alaska in the north.

After a few days, this gigantic
spawning comes to an end,

and the herring
head back out to deeper waters,

leaving behind them
fertilized eggs

plastered on every rock
and strand of vegetation.

They time their spawning

so that two weeks later,
when these eggs start to hatch,

the annual plankton bloom

will have reached its height,

and the newborn fish fry
will have plenty to eat.

But in the meantime,
all these eggs provide food

for armies of different animals

both below and above
the surface.

Millions of birds arrive

to collect a share
of the herrings' bounty.

Some of it is easily gathered,

for millions of eggs have been
washed up onto the shore.

This encapsulated energy

is particularly valuable
to migrating birds.

These surfbirds are on their way

to their breeding grounds
in the Arctic,

and they had to come down
to refuel.

Stranded herring eggs
are just what they need.

Bonaparte gulls collect the eggs

just below the surface
of the water.

Farther out in the bay,

huge flocks of ducks
have gathered.

They're mostly surf scoters--

diving ducks that can feed
off the bottom

several meters down.

There are such huge quantities
of eggs

that even such a big animal
as a bear

finds it worthwhile
to collect them.

The spawning of the herring
is a crucial event

in the lives of many animals
all along the coast.

The whole event coincides
with the plankton bloom,

and within just three short
weeks, it's all over.

The migratory birds leave
to continue their journey north.

They will not come back

until the herring also return
next year.

As the herring
spawning finishes,

other migrants are starting
to arrive just offshore.

Gray whales.

They have followed
the sun north,

and they too are seeking
the food

that is generated by the bloom
of the phytoplankton.

Krill are feeding off it,

and these whales are feeding
on the krill,

skimming it from the surface
with the filter plates of baleen

that hang from their upper jaws.

Gray whales make
one of the longest migrations

undertaken by any
marine mammal--

a round trip
of 12,000 miles or so

from their breeding grounds
off Mexico

along the entire coast
of North America

right up to the Arctic Ocean.

They travel close to the coast,

with the males and non-breeding
females leading the way.

The last to start are the cows
that have just given birth.

They have to wait
until their newborn calves

are sufficiently big and strong

to tackle
such an immense journey.

Their progress
is necessarily slow.

The mothers must stay
alongside their young,

and even a strong calf can only
travel at a couple of knots.

They stick even closer
to the shore,

often within just 200 meters.

Killer whales.

They have learnt
that gray whales

follow traditional routes.

The killers have no trouble

in overtaking a calf
and its devoted mother.

Normally, they continually call
to one another,

but now they have fallen silent.

The mother gray whale
and her calf

have no idea
that they've been targeted.

Catching up with the gray whales

is the easy part
for the killers.

They have to be cautious,

for they're only
about half the size

of the gray whale mother.

She can inflict real damage
with her tail.

But the killers
are not after her.

They're after her calf.

As long as the mother can keep
it on the move, it will be safe,

and she does her best
to hurry it along.

At first, the killers avoid
getting too close to the mother

but just keep pace alongside.

They know that the calf,
going at this speed,

will eventually tire.

After three hours
of being harried in this way,

the calf becomes too exhausted
to swim any further.

The mother has to stop.

This is the moment the killers
have been waiting for.

They start to try and force
themselves

between mother and calf.

A calf separated from its mother

will not be able
to defend itself.

Time and again,
the black fins of the killers

appear between the mottled backs
of the gray whales.

At last, the killers succeed,

and now that they've got
the calf on its own,

they change their tactics.

They leap right onto the calf

and try to push it under.

They are trying to drown it.

The calf snatches
a desperate breath.

The mother becomes
increasingly agitated.

Frantically, she tries to push
her calf back to the surface

so that it can breathe.

But now it's so exhausted

that it has to be supported
by its mother's body.

The killers won't give up.

Like a pack of wolves, they take
turns in harassing the whales.

Now the whole pod is involved.

One of them takes a bite.

Soon, the sea is reddened
with the calf's blood,

and the killers close in
for the final act.

The calf is dead.

After a six-hour hunt,

the killer whales
have finally won their prize.

The mother, bereft,

has to continue her migration
north on her own.

She leaves behind
the carcass of a calf

that she cherished for 13 months
in her womb,

for which she delayed
her own journey to find food.

The pod of 15 killer whales

spent over six hours trying
to kill this calf,

but now, having succeeded,

they've eaten nothing more than
its lower jaw and its tongue.

Valuable food like this

will not go to waste
in the ocean.

Before long,
the carcass will sink

to the very bottom
of this deep sea.

But even there, its flesh
will not be wasted.

Over a mile down,

in the total
darkness of the deep ocean,

the body of another gray whale,
a 30-ton adult.

It settled here
only a few weeks ago.

Already, it has attracted
hundreds of hagfish.

These scavengers,
over half a meter long

and as thick as your arm,
are only found in the deep sea.

They have been attracted
by the faint whiff of decay

suffusing through the water
for miles around.

With their heads buried
in the whale's flesh,

they breathe through
gill openings

along the sides of their bodies.

They're very
primitive creatures--

not even true fish,
for they lack jaws.

They feed, not by biting,

but by rasping off flesh
with two rows of horny teeth.

In just a few hours,
a hagfish can eat

several times its own weight

of rotting flesh.

Next to arrive,
a sleeper shark.

It moves so slowly
to conserve energy--

an important strategy
for so large an animal

surviving in such
a poor habitat.

Sleeper sharks live
over a mile down

and grow
to over seven meters long.

They can go for months
without food,

slowly cruising
along the bottom,

waiting for rare bonanzas
such as this one

to arrive from above.

A whole range of different
deep-sea scavengers

will feast on this carcass
for a long time

before all its nutriment
has been consumed.

18 months later,

all that is left is a perfect
skeleton stripped bare.

The sun's energy,
that was captured

and turned into living tissue
by the floating phytoplankton,

has been transferred
from one link to another

in the food chain
and has ended up

as far away from the sun

as it's possible to be
on this planet--

at the bottom of the deep sea.

But some energy
also returns from the deep.

Millions of opalescent squid

are on their way
to the shallows.

They've come up here to mate.

As the males grab the females,
their tentacles flush red.

For most of the year,

these squid live
at a depth of around 500 meters.

They only come together

in these great breeding schools
for a few weeks.

Just one school was estimated
to contain animals

that weigh around 4,000 tons.

Wave after wave
rise from the depths,

and soon the seabed
in the shallows

is strewn with dense patches
of egg capsules

several meters across.

As each female adds another
capsule to the pile,

the males fight
to fertilize its contents.

The squid make their huge
journey into the shallows

because their eggs will develop
faster in the warmer water here,

and when the young emerge,

they will find more food
more easily

than they would
in the ocean depths.

Dawn the next morning,

and the seabed for miles around
is covered in egg capsules.

The squid themselves
have all gone.

Many will have died,

but some will have returned
to their home in the deep.

They will not return
to the light of the sun

until the next time they are
driven up by the urge to spawn.