All language subtitles for The.Blue.Planet.S01E03.Open.Ocean.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

These seas,

thousands of miles
from nearest land,

are the most sterile
on our planet.

These are marine deserts.

But here live the swiftest
and the most powerful

of all ocean hunters.

Simply finding them
is an immense challenge,

but we are about to follow them
as they search for their food

in this little-known
part of the seas--

the open ocean.

Striped marlin.

Voracious predators that can
grow to three meters long.

They hunt mainly in daylight,

searching the tropical oceans

from close to the surface
down to depths of

a hundred meters or so.

Normally the fish they feed on
are widely dispersed,

but sometimes their prey gathers
in dense shoals,

like these sardines.

This feast may last
for over an hour.

Time enough for other hunters

to reach the scene.

Juvenile tuna join in
the feeding frenzy.

The noise attracts a giant--
a sei whale.

It's 14 meters long

and 20 tons in weight,
and has an appetite to match.

Soon the only sign
that the sardines

ever existed are scales
sinking down into the abyss.

Such feasts don't last long.

Within a few short days,
waters that once

swarmed with food will have
been cleaned out.

The hunters must
move elsewhere

and once again
start their search of

the seemingly featureless
open ocean.

A manta ray, immense.

Five meters across from the tip
of one wing-like fin

to the tip of the other.

It's traveling economy,

wasting as little
energy as possible

as it glides through
the waters of the tropics.

The remora fish
that accompany it

travel more economically still,
by hitching a lift.

Their host is
searching for food--

plankton, the minute fish
and invertebrates

that float near the surface.

It needs lots of them
and may cruise for days

before it finds
a good feeding ground.

Dusk at the edge of
a Pacific island

3,000 miles from
the nearest continent.

Here surgeonfish have
assembled to spawn.

As they perform
their nuptial dances,

they discharge clouds of eggs
and sperm into the water.

The manta must have known
this was about to happen,

for it arrived at exactly
this critical moment.

And it is not
the only one to do so.

Others are here, too.

Now all they need to do
is to sweep the water

into their mouths
and sieve out the eggs.

Within an hour,
the whole event will be over.

Any surviving eggs
will be so dispersed

that they are not
worth collecting.

But other perils await them

as they join
the clouds of eggs and larvae

and tiny fish
that drift through

the surface waters of
the open ocean.

These are the eggs
of yellowfin tuna.

If the hatchlings survive,
it will take them two years

to become adults.

In three years,
they could be nearly

two meters long and weigh
200 kilograms.

Perhaps only one in a million
will live as long as that.

They and the other animals
and microscopic plants

of the plankton constitute
the basis of all life

out on the open ocean.

Success is related
to standing out, not fitting in.

The day you saw
something in me...

my whole life changed.

Cheyenne is a dangerous place.

I got nothing left to lose.

You know, you really
don't have to be so dramatic.

Whoo!

I'm moving up in the world.

So,
when's the show start?

A storm petrel dancing
on the water.

But this is no amiable waltz.

It's a hunt.

As they hover
facing into the wind,

they pick out morsels
from near the surface,

including eggs.

Only a tiny percentage of
the developing eggs

will survive
long enough to hatch.

These newly emerged tuna
are only three millimeters long,

and although they can swim,
they're still very vulnerable.

It will be many weeks before
they can swim strongly enough

to make any
real headway in the ocean.

After the sun goes down,

other predators
rise from the depths

to attack
the floating multitude.

Darkness shrouds
the arrival of

battalions of dangerous
drifting predators.

These shimmering comb jellies--
sea gooseberries--

trap their prey with sticky,
net-like webs.

One ill-timed fin-stroke
could bring certain death

to a hatchling fish.

There are many kinds of

these comb jellies,
all of them very

effective hunters.

By dawn, most of
the nocturnal feeders

will have returned
to the depths.

The surviving hatchlings,
however,

have already started
on their travels.

Vast current systems,
like immense rivers,

carry them around
the ocean basins.

The boundaries between
these masses of moving water

form invisible barriers
that can trap

both plankton and nutrients
carried up from the depths.

So parts of the ocean
become rich with food

for days or even weeks
at a time.

This attracts vast schools of
plankton-feeding fish,

like these sardine.

They take in water
through their mouths

and expel it
through their gills,

sieving out the plankton,
which is then

funneled down
their throats.

The immense schools travel along
the boundaries of the currents,

seeking the spots where
the plankton is thickest.

As the position of
the current boundaries

changes constantly,
so does both the supply

of plankton
and the numbers of fish.

A small pod of
Pacific spotted dolphin

20 miles from
the coast of Panama.

Like all predators,
they seek parts of the ocean

where their food is thickest.

They cover as much as
a hundred miles in a day.

And while they travel,
they play.

They have detected
the sound of schooling fish

from hundreds of meters away
and start to

track down the shoals
using sonar,

leaving their toys
behind them.

For the hunted,
there are few places to hide.

Schooling mackerel.

They have already
sensed the sonar beams

of approaching dolphin.

Their only defense
is to gather into a ball.

Any individual that stayed

out of the shoal
would be quickly picked off.

Within it,
there is at least

some chance of survival.

The noise of the attack
alerts another predator,

a sailfish, one of the fastest
fish in the ocean.

It has detected rapid
vibrations in the water

and is searching
for the cause.

Sailfish rely on eyesight
for their final approach,

so they hunt mainly
in daylight.

When sailfish become excited,
they change color,

lighting up with
bright blue stripes.

Since mackerel eyes
are especially sensitive

to blue and ultraviolet,
these colors confuse them,

making them easier to catch.

Far below, a blue
shark returns from

a squid-hunting trip
in the cold darkness

300 meters down.

It's heading for the surface to
reheat in the warmer water.

As it ascends,
it detects the smell of

oils and proteins
shed into the water

by the panicked mackerel.

The trail leads both the shark
and its attendant pilot fish

towards an easy meal.

Scraps and casualties

float in the wake of
the passing mackerel school.

Throughout the ocean,
predators and prey

are locked in a deadly
three-dimensional contest

of hide and seek played out
over immense distances.

To survive,
they must travel.

The huge, four-meter long
bluefin tuna

has special blood vessels

that enable it to keep
its body temperature

significantly warmer than
the surrounding water.

As a result, they can survive
in much colder conditions

than any other tuna,
and they travel

thousands of miles away from
their spawning grounds

in the tropics
to hunt in cold seas,

where the food supply
is richest.

Ocean travelers
come in many guises,

and few are stranger
than this.

A crab that spends
much of its life afloat.

It's a worrying passer-by for
booby birds with delicate toes.

Many floaters are
little more than jelly

enclosed in membranes,

but they may drift
for vast distances.

And turtles,
like these olive ridleys,

migrate thousands
of miles every year.

The ocean is full of
such wanderers

riding the currents
and doing their best

to avoid enemies while
they search for food

and a safe place to breed.

Which is exactly what
these rays are doing--

forming the two-mile-high-club,
gathering together

for courtship on the wing

far above the ocean floor.

More nomads--
flying fish.

They seem to be

on every
large predator's menu,

so their whole life is spent
on the run

in the open ocean.

They don't
scatter their eggs,

but lay them on
pieces of flotsam,

like this palm frond.

If the quality
of water is right,

they will attach their eggs
to the frond,

which will then serve as
a kind of life raft

for their offspring.

But it's not only flying fish

that seek nurseries.

Any piece of floating debris
can serve as a shelter

under which baby fish
can hide.

The only drawback is that

predators like this wahoo

always check up on
who's hanging about

in the shadows.

The wahoo may trail
the flotsam for weeks.

Few bits of flotsam
are without

their quota of lodgers.

Even man-made junk
attracts them, and some,

like this oceanic
triggerfish,

defend their squatters' rights

with vigor.

The triggers, in fact,

tend to claim all
the prime residences.

Out here, even
discarded netting

can provide valuable
shelter, so,

in a bizarre twist,
a wrecked trawl net like this

can end up as
a sanctuary for fish

until such time
as it finally sinks.

Indeed, a single

large piece of flotsam
can be the reason why

several square miles
of open ocean,

instead of being empty,

will support a fish population
of hundreds of tons.

This huge clump of seaweed
is doing exactly that.

It is a giant kelp plant
ripped from the rocks

off the coast of California.

Now it's floating above
thousands of meters of water,

held up by its

gas-filled floats.

Clouds of young rockfish
are growing up

in the safety of its shadow.

Giants also seek out
this algal flotsam.

This is a sunfish.

It can measure
as much as four meters

from fin tip to fin tip.

Rather surprisingly,
it has the record as

the heaviest bony fish
in the sea.

Sunfish spend much of
their time at depth

where they feed
on jellyfish,

but it's cold
and dark down there,

so from time to time,

they seek a little
rest and recuperation

and warm up near the surface.

They too are looking
for floating kelp plants.

Not for shelter,
but because here

they can find a particular

kind of fish that
only lives in such places--

halfmoon fish.

The sunfish

form up in an orderly queue.

They have a problem.

Their skin is
covered in parasites.

The hungry halfmoons
will help.

The sunfish turn their heads
towards the surface

as a clear invitation to
their personal hygienists.

The halfmoons nip off and eat
every parasite they can find.

If the halfmoons
don't do the job,

there is another rather drastic
treatment available here.

Gulls rest on
the floating kelp.

And if the sunfish
send the right signals,

the gulls will investigate.

Their beaks can dig out
the most stubborn parasites.

But even the very best
of health clinics

can only trade on
a temporary basis.

The seaweed rafts
are rotting and will

eventually lose
their buoyancy.

Then their lodgers

will have to find
a new home.

If they can't,
they will be eaten

or die and sink
down into the abyss.

But the open ocean is not

entirely devoid
of permanent shelter.

A volcano is erupting
from the sea floor,

and it's still growing.

It has formed an island
some 70 miles

from the coast
of New Zealand.

Some juvenile reef fish
have already arrived,

carried here by
a lucky current.

Now they are growing up
in the shelter

of the weeds growing around
the island's fringes.

More plankton and juvenile fish
are being

swept by currents
straight towards the island.

But now,
there's a welcoming committee.

Schools of trevally
and blue maomao

are patrolling
the surface water.

All are in search of a meal.

These one-kilo fish

snap up every morsel
of plankton they find.

At times, the currents
sweeping in from the open ocean

bring with them all kinds of

small creatures
in dense concentrations.

These are mysid shrimps.

Very little that is edible
is left after such feasts.

Islands are far from being
safe havens for plankton.

The Pacific Ocean, however,

is peppered with over
23,000 islands,

as well as countless other
submerged mountains--

seamounts whose summits do not
break the surface.

Juvenile fish,
for their first few months,

would do well to avoid
such places.

These yellowfin tuna, however,
are now more than

six months old
and 40 centimeters long,

big enough to be able
to eat fry.

So seamounts, for them,
are promising feeding grounds

where they may hunt for
several months.

The base of a seamount.

As currents sweep towards it,

they are deflected up
its towering walls.

The water coming from the depths

carries both nutrients
and plankton to the surface.

Numerous reef fish take up
permanent residence here,

feeding where the currents
are strongest

and the plankton most dense.

Where the cold water mixes with
warmer water at the surface,

there is a strange
shimmering effect,

a clear sign that the currents
are running strongly.

But these currents attract more
than just coastal fish.

Giants come here
from the open ocean.

Hammerhead sharks,
and in great numbers.

During the day,
they circle the seamount,

looking for small fish
at the reef edges,

but not in order to eat them.

They, like the sunfish,
are looking for cleaners

to rid them of their parasites.

Whitetip reef sharks gather
here, too.

They do eat reef fish.

But they prefer hunt at night,

when the reef fish are sleepy
and easier to catch.

Far better to rest by day

and allow the cleaners
to do their work.

Even swarms of breeding trigger
aren't a serious temptation.

These triggers spend

much of their time
in open water,

but they have come to
the seamount to spawn.

Trigger eggs are good food,

and the plankton-feeders
gather what they can

before the current
sweeps them away.

This whole community
is only here

because of the nutrients
and plankton that

the seamount deflected
into the surface waters.

But ocean-going hunters

are never far away.

Silky shark specialize
in picking off injured fish,

and constantly check over

the residents
around the seamount.

At some times of the year,
seasonal changes

make the currents
especially rich in nutrients,

and then the ocean
around the seamount

becomes a virtual soup
of plankton.

At such times,

hunters gather
in astonishing numbers.

Bonito, smaller relatives
of the tuna.

They are searching for
still-smaller plankton feeders

that have been attracted
by the bloom.

So are these Jacks,
and their prey is nearby.

A school of anchoveta
has strayed up

near the surface,
even though it's

broad daylight
and hunters are on the prowl.

These small fish can already
feel the vibrations

of the approaching predators.

Swimming at speed,
they have formed into a ball,

and now they must wait
for whatever comes.

They're been detected.

At first, the sheer scale
of the bait ball

seems to daunt the predators.

But now

the bonito arrive
and launch the first attack.

Still the bait ball
holds together.

The young yellowfin tuna
move in.

The speed of this attack
is so great

that gradually,
groups of anchoveta

are splintered from
the main fish ball.

Before long, the currents will
shift,

and the ocean will become once
more a blue tropical desert,

plankton-free,

and the hunters will
have to move on.

Spinner dolphins,
still searching

for food.

Their twisting leaps
are apparently purely

social displays.

Since the hunting
has been good,

many hundred
have gathered together

in this exuberant
super-pod.

But now the spinners are
starting to hunt once more.

Their skill in tracking food
is not a secret.

Yellowfin tuna
must be aware of it,

for they regularly
follow them.

But only adult tuna

in their second or third
year of life

have sufficient stamina
to keep up with

the fast-moving spinners.

These are another kind--
common dolphin.

They too are on the move.

As they travel,
ever inquisitive,

they pay a call on

one of their larger relations,
a pilot whale.

The whale is not hunting.

It's on its way

to its breeding grounds
in the Mediterranean.

Pilot whales normally hunt in
small family groups,

but in mid-summer,
they head for traditional

socializing grounds,
where they will assemble

in super herds
several hundred strong.

Already, two families
have joined together.

The males are
starting to compete

for the favors
of the females.

As the weeks pass by,
these group rubbing sessions

will become more
overtly sexual.

But now, it's just
flirting in the sun.

Timing in the ocean
can be crucial.

In summer,
the northern Atlantic waters

are beginning to warm.

The hunting is good here
and by June,

predators from southern waters
are heading towards the Azores.

These are more
common dolphin.

Like most oceanic dolphins,

they too often travel
in huge herds

containing many
different families.

There is seldom enough prey

in any one place
to feed such numbers.

So small groups
leave the super pod

and set off on
hunting expeditions.

This group will be away from
the main herd for several hours.

By mid-day, they're nearing
the islands of the Azores,

900 miles west of
the Portuguese coast.

Other hunters
are already here--
Cory's shearwaters.

Half a million of these birds
breed on the Azores every year

and scour the nearby ocean
for food.

Right now there's
insufficient wind

to support gliding flight,
and since flapping

is a waste of energy,
they sit out the calm

clustered in rafts
and riding the gentle swells.

By mid-afternoon,

the dolphin are starting
to hunt in earnest.

As the sea breeze picks up,

the shearwaters take to
the air once more.

Out to sea,

the dolphin have
found prey.

They are driving a shoal of
small mackerel

up towards the surface.

The shearwaters
crowd the skies above,

following the dolphins'
every turn.

The mackerel are still
some meters down.

But when the bait fish
come sufficiently close,

the airborne division
makes its move.

Far from being

mere bystanders,
the shearwaters can

now become underwater
predators themselves.

Incredibly,
they can dive down to

depths of several meters.

The hunting dolphin
prevent the mackerel

from escaping downwards,
and both predators

gorge themselves.

Soon the diving birds

outnumber the dolphin,
and even drive them away

from their meal.

But another squadron
of predators

arrives to replace
the dolphin--

adult yellowfin tuna.

These are giants
two meters long.

They're heading directly
for the bait ball.

Despite the arrival
of the giant fish,

the shearwater continue to
press home their attack unfazed.

Eventually the tuna move on,

leaving the shearwaters
to battle among themselves.

As long as a predatory fish

or a dolphin
remains at the scene,

the mackerel can't
escape to safety.

But when the little
skipjack tuna

start to move away,
gradually the bait ball

begins to sink into
the depths towards safety.

The shearwaters
follow it down to

the very limit of their
breath-holding ability,

perhaps as deep
as 15 meters.

At last, even they are forced
to leave their quarry.

However good or bad
this summer's feeding may be,

within three months,
winter will be on its way

and the temperature
of these waters

will drop by
a few degrees.

Then the ocean hunters will
abandon the Azores once more.

As ever, they will move on,

searching for another
feeding opportunity,

the next pulse of life

in the distant reaches
of the open ocean.