All language subtitles for The.UnBelievable.with.Dan.Aykroyd.S03E18.Most.Astonishing.Creatures.1080p.HULU.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-RAWR_track3_[eng]

We've uncovered the
strange, the mysterious,

and the flat-out impossible,

but some creatures
stand above the rest,

like a chicken that
spent almost two years

walking around without a head.

Turns out that you
don't need a whole brain

to run a chicken.

He starts to show it
around the neighbors like,

"Look, I've got a
headless chicken."

It's featured
in Life Magazine,

and he's going in
carnivals and circuses.

Or a world-class team
of unlikely athletes.

These monkeys are
taking it seriously,

riding the greyhounds like
they're thoroughbreds.

It's insane.

How about a marsupial
with a mean right hook?

Greig sees this
enormous kangaroo.

No, no!

Holding his dog hostage.

He has to do something
quick to save his dog.

These are the creatures
so astonishing,

they're truly unbelievable.

In 1945, a farmer in Fruita,
Colorado named Lloyd Olsen

is ready for dinner.

The main course: a
chicken named Mike.

But what happens next will
defy science and belief.

So Olsen walks out,
hatchet in hand.

He performs the act that he
has performed countless times

with many other chickens.

Something's different.

The chicken is still alive,

and still walking and
acting like a chicken,

but Lloyd is holding
his head in his hand.

How is this possible?

The answer has a lot to do
with the unique attributes

of the gallus gallus domesticus,

also known as the
common chicken.

Chickens are descended
from the dinosaurs

from a group called
the Theropods,

which include all of
those famous meat-eaters,

like Velociraptor and
Tyrannosaurus rex.

Chickens have over 30
different kinds of vocalizations

that they use to communicate
with other chickens.

They can remember up
to 100 different faces,

human, or chicken, or otherwise.

They actually
experience REM sleep

because we can measure
their eye movements.

These are pretty smart birds.

Unfortunately,
Mike loses

every one of these attributes

once Lloyd Olsen brings the
ax down on his feathery neck.

When Farmer Olsen heads out

for the traditional
ax and stump routine

with Mike the chicken,

he ends up conducting what
amounts to a complicated form

of brain surgery.

His ax cleaves the skull

in such a way that it leaves
the stem of the brain.

If you have that brain stem,
the circulatory functions,

the respiratory functions, the
motor skills are left intact,

and he is left with this living,

essentially, headless chicken.

Turns out that you
don't need a whole brain

to run a chicken.

No head, no problem.

But feeding Mike?

That took a little creativity.

So Mike, being
headless, has no mouth,

and so can't eat in
the traditional way,

but after the beheading,

there's a little
opening to the esophagus

exposed right there.

Lloyd is able to keep Mike
the Headless Chicken alive

by feeding food with an eye
dropper through that opening.

Pretty soon,

Farmer Olsen's chicken
becomes the talk of the town.

He starts to show it
around the neighbors,

like, "Look, I've got
a headless chicken."

I would show it off.

Lloyd Olsen realizes
pretty quickly

that a headless chicken
which is still alive,

is an amazing attraction,

and he takes that
animal on the road.

So, Lloyd's doing
everything he can with Mike.

It's featured in Life Magazine,

and he plays at World's Fair,

and he's going in
carnivals and circuses,

they're staying in hotels,

and Lloyd and Mike
are living large.

And he's making the equivalent

of like 60,000 bucks a month
off this bird that's headless,

but still alive.

At long last, though,
things do come to an end.

After 18 months of
touring on the road,

Mike unfortunately chokes to
death on a kernel of corn.

Decades after Mike's
miraculous survival,

another creature
makes headlines,

not for escaping disaster,
but for unleashing it.

There is a domestic
flight that is happening

in the Democratic
Republic of Congo.

The flight is starting
off in Kinshasa,

then heading to Kiri, Bokoro,

Semendua, and Bandundu.

It's not one of these
commercial jet liners.

The Let 410,

i's a twin-engine,
passenger-carrying aircraft.

You've got 18 passengers,

and you've got
three crew members

that consist of two pilots
and a flight attendant.

Unbeknownst to the
crew or other passengers,

someone carries a duffel
bag onto the flight,

a bag that will soon upend

what should be a
perfectly normal trip.

A flight attendant
notices something a bit odd.

The duffel bag, that's been
under the seat the whole time,

starts to move.

She goes to investigate.

She opens it a little
bit, and lo and behold,

there's a three-foot-long
crocodile inside.

This crocodile locks eyes
on this flight attendant,

who naturally freaks out

and runs to the
front of the plane.

All the other passengers now
are trying to figure out,

"Why is this person screaming?"

And they now see this crocodile,

just sauntering
through the aisle,

so they all run to the
front of the plane.

As that happens,

it forces all the weight
and the center of gravity

to the front of the aircraft.

So now, the aircraft begins
to start tipping over

straight nose down
towards the ground,

and they are unable to
recover from that situation.

The airplane tragically
crashes into a house

about a mile short
of the runway.

21 souls perished
in this accident,

22 if you count the crocodile,

and one person survives
to tell the tale.

In all of my time looking
at aircraft accidents,

I have never seen anything
remotely close to this.

That crocodile never
meant to hurt anyone,

but the same can't be
said for our next beast

with a score to settle.

Vladimir Markov
is a hunter-poacher

in Far East Russia,

kind of on the border between
China and North Korea,

and it's an extremely
hand-to-mouth existence.

This is an area
which was heavily reliant

on the timber industry.

But by the late
'80s, early '90s,

when the Soviet Union starts
to crumble and collapse,

it takes this local
industry with it.

And so because of that,

Markov literally has to
do whatever is necessary

to be able to survive.

Faced with bankruptcy,

Markov is prepared
to support himself

by any means necessary.

Now, poachers normally
go after boars or badgers,

but those who are really
looking for a big payday

recognize that the real
money is in the big game.

And the
mother of all trophies

is the Siberian Amur tiger.

If you're able to bag one,

the carcass would fetch
you about 30 grand.

The biggest market
for this is China,

where various body parts can
be used for healing properties.

The whiskers are said
to make you bulletproof,

and a tiger's penis
is used in soup,

which is said to
be an aphrodisiac.

Vladimir Markov has
this potential payday in mind

when he stumbles on a
set of large tiger tracks

one cold December night.

Now, if
you're a poacher,

remember that Siberian
tigers are badass.

They weigh around 500 pounds,

they're incredibly stealthy,
they're incredibly fast.

If they were to jump vertically,

they could clear a basketball
hoop with no problem.

So, who is hunting whom?

As Markov
comes upon a tiger,

he's lucky because he
sees that it's distracted,

as it's feeding on a
boar it's just killed.

Recognizing that he has one
shot to take this tiger down,

he shores himself up, takes aim,

and fires.

He hits the tiger,
but doesn't kill it.

Tiger runs off.

So, Markov has a very, very
upset apex predator in the wild.

Markov is pretty
desperate, so he decides,

"You know, let me make the
best of the situation,"

and he drags the boar
back to his cabin.

What Markov never imagined

is that the tiger is actually
now following his scent trail.

When Markov
returns to his cabin,

the wounded tiger is
already there waiting.

Not only does he attack,

he destroys everything
with Markov's scent on it.

It is clear;

this is very personal.

By the time people
actually find Markov,

there's very little left of him.

We're talking
about stumps of bone

sticking out of his boots

and the remnants of an arm
stuck inside his shirt,

and most shockingly,
his head with no face.

What's so remarkable about
this attack for authorities

is that if we're
talking about humans,

this would be a case
of premeditated murder.

Clearly, the tiger had
plotted its revenge.

As Markov sadly discovered,

it seems that
tigers, like humans,

don't always forgive and forget.

For centuries,
military commanders

have outmaneuvered enemies
with strategy and firepower,

but one campaign in Australia

would pit them against a threat

no war manual could
prepare them for.

It's just after World War I,

and the Australian government

decides to do something
really special

for Australian fighters
that come home from the war.

They give the soldiers a plot
of land to become farmers,

and the 1920s are a
great decade for that.

Soon, these
veterans-turned-farmers

are thriving,

until an unexpected
rival swoops in.

The emu is a flightless bird.

They're six feet tall,
about 120 pounds.

They're really fast.

They're also really hungry.

What starts as
a seasonal migration

quickly turns into
a full-blown crisis,

as 20,000 emus wipe out crops
and millions in revenue.

If you're a farmer,
what you might do

is you might take your claim
to the Agriculture Department.

But these aren't only
farmers, they're veterans,

so they decide to go to
the Ministry of Defense.

The farmers meet
with George Pearce,

and their plan is to create
an army of well-armed men

to go out and significantly
deplete the emu population.

This doesn't exactly
sit well with the government,

who reminds them that the emu
is Australia's national bird.

But Pearce is
adamant, and he says,

"No, no, no, no. I have a plan.

We're gonna use machine guns

because that'll make the
death quick and painless.

And on top of that, this
will be seen as a good act

to aid the veterans that
fought in World War I."

Apparently, Pearce
makes a strong case,

because Parliament gets on board

and officially declares
war on emus in 1932.

The program gets
off to a roaring start

when an Australian
artillery officer

by the name of G.P.W. Meredith

goes out into an
area called Campion

for the purposes
of exterminating

the emu population there.

With a herd of about
100 emus in their sights,

they begin firing.

Then, the emu do something
they're very good at.

The emu is not a dumb bird.

They're smart,
and they split up,

and they start running
in multiple directions

in smaller groups
at 40 miles an hour.

These emu are pretty
freaking hard to hit.

They blast into a pack
of 100, they hit five.

A handful of emus
sadly do get shot,

but some of them take
fire and keep going.

It's just so mind-boggling

that Major Meredith compares
these emus to tanks.

After the emus
outsmart them at Campion,

the army works on a
different approach.

They're going to mount
the Lewis machine gun

on the back of a jeep,

so they can travel at
the same speed as the emu

and fire from the back.

Problem with this:

It is rough terrain,

so the jeep is just bouncing
up and down the whole way,

bullets fly everywhere, emus
are just like, "That's stupid,"

then they scatter once again.

And again, the
outcome is the same:

mission failure.

It's now emus,
two; Aussies, nil.

But the soldiers aren't
ready to give up.

Now, Major
Meredith and his men

think they've got
these emus figured out.

They know the guerrilla
tactics of these emus.

They know how they run,
they know where they rest,

they know what directions
they spread in.

And with this information,

they start carrying
out these new missions

and they start to
show more success.

Pearce goes back to
Parliament three weeks later,

proudly touting
that he and his men

have killed almost 1,000 emus.

Parliament just kind
of looks at him and goes,

"Didn't you say there
were 20,000 emus?

And you've only managed
to kill 1,000 of them?"

They lambast him with insults,

going so far as to even suggest

that, "Maybe medal should
be given to the emu?"

With an unbelievable
amount of ammunition

and manpower wasted,

Parliament ultimately decides

to give the victory to the emus,

and the mission is declared
an unmitigated failure.

The military has tried
some unusual things,

but perhaps none stranger
or more successful

than recruiting a
dog off the street.

It's World War I.

In the muddy trenches
on the Western front,

a German spy sneaks his way
towards the Allied Command.

He's careful to stay
low and keep silent.

Suddenly,

he hears the unmistakable
growl of an attack dog.

Pretty quickly, he realizes,

"I have to get away
from this animal,"

but the dog is
having none of that.

And the next thing
the German spy feels

is the teeth sinking
into the back of his leg,

and pretty soon, the dog is
chewing anything it can reach

and barking hysterically.

For him,
the war is over.

For his canine captor,

it's just another in a long
series of battlefield triumphs.

His name is Sergeant Stubby.

Your typical
military working dogs

would be a German
Shepherd or a Rottweiler,

but this is not your typical
military working dog.

This is a 25-pound
stray American lap dog.

He's a sort of mixed breed
of more likely Boston Terrier.

They're basically meant
to pal around with you

and be friendly.

Stubby's
unbelievable journey

from stray to terror of the
trenches begins a year earlier

in 1917.

You have a
young army private

by the name of
John Robert Conroy

who's training at
Yale University.

This small stray
dog comes up to him

with a thumb-like tail.

And it's wagging as
it comes up to him,

and for Conroy, it's
love at first sight.

And he's like, "I'm
gonna call you Stubby."

Even though the
camp has a no-dog policy,

the 102nd Infantry
26th, Yankee Division,

decides to bring Stubby on
is their official mascot.

He starts picking up tricks.

He even learns how to
salute a superior officer.

When his unit
is sent into combat

in February of 1918,

Sergeant Stubby goes from
mascot to active duty.

Disaster strikes Stubby early,

and he's injured by
a mustard gas attack

that he's not
supposed to survive.

Lo and behold, not only
does this not kill Stubby,

but he recovers with
this new superpower.

He's able to sense mustard
gas from miles away

where nobody else would
even know it's coming.

Stubby's newfound
skills are put to the test

during an early morning attack.

While the men of
the unit are asleep,

there's a mustard gas attack,

and Stubby is the
first one to smell it.

Thanks to Stubby,

all 200 men of the company
survive the attack.

Whatever the task, Stubby
somehow always delivers,

eventually becoming the
first dog in US Army history

to reach the rank of Sergeant.

By the end of the war,

Stubby has fought in
17 different battles.

He's earned the Purple Heart

and he's earned multiple
medals with valor.

He's a part
of post-war parades.

Of course, he's
the crowd favorite.

And then in 1926,

Stubby passes away in
the arms of John Conroy,

and his obituary is printed
in both The Washington Post

and The New York Times.

You could still see
Sergeant Stubby today.

He is stuffed and mounted
in the Smithsonian Museum.

Go see him sometime
and give him a salute.

Since Sergeant
Stubby's time,

the US military has
upheld a unique tradition.

The animal always
outranks the handler,

just to keep egos in check.

GOAT usually means
greatest of all time,

but in this story,

the goat isn't a champion
in the ring or on the ice.

It's a four-legged
military legend.

It's the beginning of
the American Revolution.

The British are attempting to

assert control of
Greater Boston Harbor.

The colonial militia aren't
really trained soldiers.

They need all the
advantages they can get,

so they're gonna take
position on the high ground,

in this case, on Breed's
Hill next to Bunker Hill

and try to repel the
coming British assault.

Being uphill, the
Americans have the advantage.

The first wave of Brits sent
up the hill are mowed down.

Their superiors send
up a second wave.

They're stepping over
their dead comrades.

Again, just carnage,
a British bloodbath.

As legend has it,
just as all hope seems lost,

something rushes
onto the battlefield.

It flashes past the troops,

taking the lead up the
hill right into enemy fire.

Who is this brave hero?

A billy goat.

Behind the British line
is the 23rd Regiment

Welch soldiers, and
they are so inspired

when they see this billy
goat charging the hill.

They get themselves inspired.

They leave their positions,
they charge into battle,

they charge up the hill.

Supposedly, the Americans
are so taken off guard

by this sudden charge
that they are overcome.

The British sees the
summit of Breed's Hill

and they drive the Americans
out of their fighting positions.

Although the
Americans will go on

to gain their independence,

their goat actually achieves

a certain amount of immortality.

It becomes the official mascot
for the Welch Fusiliers.

A goat has served

with the Welch
Regiment ever since,

but it's not the last time their
hooved hero saves the day.

During the Crimean War,

the 41st Welch Infantry

is suffering in the
extreme cold of winter.

A soldier on
watch gets resourceful

and decides to wrap
the regimental goat

inside his coat for warmth.

Struck by a
case of hypothermia,

the man dozes while
he's on watch,

but the goat remains alert
and begins bleating.

That alerts him
to the Russian soldiers

who are actually
sneaking up on them.

At that point, he's able
to rouse his comrades

and repel the Russian force.

A goat comes to
the rescue again.

The goat is hailed as a hero.

They call him Hebe.

After the war,
Hebe meets Queen Victoria

and apparently makes
quite an impression.

She is smitten,

and when Queen Victoria learns
of Hebe's death years later,

she decrees that all
of his successors

will come from the royal
herd of Kashmiri goats.

These goats
aren't just mascots

with an honorary title.

They're actual members
of the battalion.

They get
an officer's rank,

they get a regimental number,

and they're treated
like comrades in arms.

The mascot actually
gets officer's pay,

and that pay goes
toward his upkeep.

That upkeep is done
by the goat major,

an actual member of
the battalion as well.

They get two cigarettes
a day to eat,

plus a pint of Guinness
to wash it down.

These days, the
goat's main duty

is to march at the
head of the regiment

at ceremonial parades,

meeting the royals in
his finest regalia.

But goats will still
be goats, and in 2006,

Lance Corporal Billy Windsor

actually headbutts one of
the drummers in a parade.

He's charged with conduct
unbecoming of an officer

and demoted in rank.

The most recent recruit is
Lance Corporal Shenkin IV,

who was chosen from the royal
herd of Kashmiri goats in 2018

and trained at the
barracks in Cardiff.

He's already met
King Charles III,

and so far at least, no
headbutting, no shenanigans.

Our next creature wasn't
charming dignitaries.

It was too busy terrorizing
the jungles of Vietnam.

It's early
1966, and the captain

of a company of
Marines receives intel

of some strange movements
happening in the jungle.

He radios his troops to
observe but not fire.

He doesn't want to give
away his troops' position.

He thinks it could
potentially be the Viet Cong

gearing up for a
surprise attack.

The captain then
receives this puzzling report,

where the men say, "Nevermind.

We've got a number of apes

that are in front
of our position."

This strikes him as
an unusual development

because there are no
large apes in Vietnam.

They're not native there.

And for there to then
be a group of them

directly in front of
this Marine position,

is especially curious.

So the Marines
inform their captain

that these apes are
getting quite close.

Being a good officer,

the captain comes up with
a sort of obvious solution.

Just throw some rocks at
the apes, scare them off,

and they'll go away.

Very clearly stating,
though, "Don't open fire."

These Marines follow orders.

They throw rocks,

and the next noises that
come out over the radio

are all sorts of
chaos and commotion.

There is gunfire, there is
screaming, there is yelling,

there's all of this ruckus,

and then the radio
just goes silent.

Frantic, the captain
sends out a recon squad of

marines to find out what
the hell happened,

and what they find
is pure carnage.

You've got marines on
the ground that are banged up.

Some of them have
cracked skulls,

some of them are unconscious.

And they ask them,
"What happened?"

Everyone reports
basically the same thing.

That is, they were attacked
by a group of six-foot-tall,

orange-haired apes that had
really good throwing arms,

and some of the men

had to engage them in
hand-to-hand combat.

After the skirmish,

no bodies of Vietnamese
jungle apes are recovered,

but this won't be
the only faceoff.

In 1968, there's an
incident also near Da Nang

where Marines from my company

of the 3rd Battalion,
5th Marines

encounter a group of
stone-throwing apes

occupying high ground
above their positions.

They open fire.

But the bodies of none of these
apes can be found afterward.

There's just the personal
accounts of the Marines

who eyewitnessed the incident.

The reports
become common enough

that the stone hurling primates
earn themselves a nickname,

rock apes.

It's not
just the Americans

that are having
these experiences.

We have reports

that the Vietnamese also were
having similar encounters

with these massive apes.

They referred to them as
Batutut, or jungle people,

but the description is the same.

Very tall, reddish-brownish
fur, aggressive,

and there's some speculation

that these were
maybe orangutans,

but the problem is
that orangutans haven't

lived in Vietnam
for 1,000 years.

So you've got all
of these soldiers

talking about these
mysterious sightings

of these rock-throwing apes,

and yet none of them are able
to kill any of these apes.

No body is ever recovered.

So, what is left in
terms of an explanation?

What we end up with

is sort of the Vietnam
version of the Yeti.

What makes it all the
more puzzling is the fact

that there are so many people
that have similar encounters

during a compressed
period of time.

So, it's definitely a part
of at least the folklore

of the Vietnam experience.

Who knows? It
might even be real.

Whether they're
a hallucination

or an undiscovered
new breed of primate,

rock apes remain one of the
war's strangest mysteries.

In a war defined by
spies and satellites,

one of the most unexpected

secret weapons
came from the sea.

Dolphins are kind of
the hippies of the sea.

They're very loving,
they're very friendly.

We don't think of them
as helping a war effort.

Yet, starting with
the Cuban Missile Crisis,

trained dolphins were
deployed in Vietnam and Iraq,

taking on missions too
dangerous for humans.

Dolphins show an
incredible acuity

in terms of spotting mines
below the surface of the water.

Essentially, they use
their echolocation

to determine where the mine is.

If the dolphin finds a mine,

the dolphin will ascend to
the surface and tap a buoy,

at which point the animal
will be given a reward.

Detecting underwater
mines is just the beginning.

Next, the Navy tries using
dolphins as assassins.

So in Vietnam, these dolphins
have a hypodermic needle

attached to their snout.

Gas is inside of it.

The diver who gets
poked by the gas,

they don't die, they just
float to the surface.

It might seem like the
dolphin is being friendly,

but then pop, you get stabbed

with this hypodermic needle,

and you're rocketing
to the surface

where they can be apprehended.

Incredibly, dolphins
are still being used today,

and the US isn't the only
superpower relying on them.

The Russian Navy
has two dolphin pens

near the Sevastopol Harbor in
the entrance to the Black Sea.

Famously, the Russians
move these dolphins

to patrol this key tactical
harbor in Sevastopol

to protect the ships that
are incredibly high value

to the Russian war effort.

The Ukrainians
are using divers

that can conduct attacks
against Russian naval bases.

And in response to that,

the Russians have introduced
weaponized dolphins.

They are tasked with
anti-diver operations

to stop any potential sabotage.

The belief is that the
dolphins would ram

any potential human
being below the water,

thinking they were
a suspected enemy.

And it's
not just dolphins

serving their countries.

Can you imagine a whale
in the role of 007?

The Russian Navy
has spy whales patrolling

the Arctic, running
surveillance,

protecting its ports,
protecting its ships,

and letting it know
where the enemy is.

But this
Russian secret weapon

is about to become
not-so-secret,

and you won't believe how.

A bunch of
Norwegian fishermen are out,

and a friendly beluga whale

just kind of swims
up to their boat,

and they realize it's wearing

some kind of a
strappy harness thing,

sort of like a GoPro rig.

And when they
look closer at it,

they find that in
Cyrillic characters,

it says, "Property
of St. Petersburg."

It provides evidence
that the animal

has been equipped with
this package of equipment

that was made by the
Russian Federation.

As for the fate
of the beluga whale spy

that the Norwegian
fishermen found...

The funny thing is that
whale essentially defects

and goes to Norway,

where it is renamed Hvaldimir,

as an homage and maybe
poking fun at Vladimir Putin.

While some animals
serve in national defense,

others take their
talents somewhere

a little more entertaining.

Greyhound racing has
been a popular sport

in the United States dating
all the way back to 1919.

By 1930, 67 dog tracks have
opened across the United States,

most of them in Florida.

It's a huge spectator
sport, not just to watch,

but to bet on as well.

A couple from Miami named
Loretta and Charles David

ask the question,
how can we make this

already popular spectacle
even more spectacular?

Their plan? Simple.

Just add monkeys.

The idea is take a monkey,
put on the back of a greyhound,

and essentially make
a monkey jockey.

Making jockeys
out of monkeys

isn't as easy as it sounds.

Actually, doesn't
sound easy at all.

Greyhounds are
naturally predatory.

Remember, when they're
running around the track,

they're actually chasing a
rabbit to eat it and kill it.

The challenge is taking a
small mammal like a monkey

and getting them
not just to coexist,

but to work together.

The Davids
are up for the task

and move forward to bring this
spectacle to the racetrack.

Loretta and Charles import
12 baby Capuchin monkeys

from Panama.

Each of these baby monkeys
cost about $35,000 today,

so this is a huge investment.

The genius part of this

is that the Davids also
get 12 greyhound puppies,

and they raise the monkeys
and the puppies together,

basically as siblings.

After two years of bonding,

becoming buddies, working
together every day, training,

it's time for them
to hit the track.

The first race in Florida

is held in January
of 1933 in Miami.

The bell goes off and they
spring out of the gates.

These monkeys are
taking it seriously.

Riding the greyhounds like
they're thoroughbreds.

It's insane.

The monkey
jockeys become so popular

that the Davids take them on
tour all over the country.

Gamblers and track owners are
making money hand over fist.

The monkeys, however, quite
literally work for peanuts.

Despite the
popularity of these races,

the Humane Society does step in

and deems the sport
cruel to animals.

Because of this,
Charles and Loretta

retire their monkeys at
the end of the 1930s.

A strange chapter in
entertainment history,

equal parts skill,
spectacle, and chaos,

and yet somehow,

not the wildest animal
story of the 20th century.

What begins as an
ordinary day for one man

quickly turns into a
bizarre test of courage

against a challenger with some
serious upper body strength.

In 2016 in the
Australian outback,

Greig Tonkins is out with his
friends hunting wild boar.

There's one
there, just here.

When one of Greig's
dogs, Max, gets a scent

and runs off ahead and
disappears into the brush.

Greig sees something he
really wasn't expecting,

which is this
enormous kangaroo.

No, no!

Holding his dog
hostage in a headlock.

And Greig realizes he has
to do something pretty quick

to save his dog.

Big, male kangaroos are
actually quite terrifying.

They've got these just huge
biceps, big, broad chest,

and a kangaroo can punch eight
times harder than a human

and they can bite as
hard as a grizzly.

But, the biggest threat is
actually the kangaroo's kick.

A kangaroo's middle toes

fuse into a single sharp talon,

a feature called syndactyly,

not unlike the kill claw
found on a Velociraptor.

He can kick
his hard as a horse,

and with that sharp nail
on the end of his toe,

can pretty much open
Greig completely up

and eviscerate him.

As it happens, Greig
is a zookeeper by profession,

so he moves in close enough
to distract the kangaroo,

and it releases the dog.

You might think that the
story would end there,

but no, the kangaroo turns
its attention to Greig.

Now, this is in
full-blown territory mode

and puts up his dukes.

Greig, to not show any weakness,

leans back and he socks the
kangaroo straight in the jaw.

Surprisingly,
the roo backs off,

and actually that probably
saves Greig's life.

Come on!

Come on.

After going a few
rounds with a kangaroo,

a drink might sound like
the perfect way to recover.

Just be careful where
you set it down,

especially if there
are monkeys around.

So you're
vacationing on the lovely island

of St. Kitts, you're lounging
poolside with a tropical

cocktail, and you
drift off to sleep.

You may not realize, though,

that someone is watching
you, poised to strike.

It's a vervet monkey,

and he's not interested in
ejecting you from his territory

or begging for a bit of food.

He wants your booze.

For years, this island
paradise has been plagued

by a small army of sneaky,
thieving, drunken monkeys.

The vervet
monkeys of St. Kitts

have a long history
of excessive drinking,

going back to the 1600s when
they were brought to the island

by the British as pets.

The monkeys start
raiding sugar cane plantations,

and sometimes the sugar
cane can start to ferment,

then the sugar eventually
turns into alcohol.

And the monkeys start
chewing on the sugar cane,

ultimately becoming
addicted to alcohol.

Centuries later,

sugar fields are replaced
by bars and hotels,

but the monkey's tradition of
boozing is still going strong.

For scientists, the
situation on St. Kitts

actually creates a
rare opportunity.

Where else can you study
alcohol consumption

in a group of highly-social,

non-human primates?

And the results of that research

are like looking in a mirror.

So some are more social
drinkers who do it in moderation

and only when they're
with other monkeys.

And then there's a
small group, about 5%,

who are described by researchers

as seriously abusive
binge-drinkers.

They get wasted,
they get into brawls,

they basically raid
outdoor cocktail tables

and just about anywhere they
can find alcoholic beverages.

Research also reveals
something else surprising.

Well, it turns out
that the most effective

and powerful leaders
among these primates

are the drunkest monkeys of all.

If you thought those
monkeys were wild,

wait 'til you meet a
real swingin' '70s cat

who put Casanova to shame.

When you think of
being put out to pasture,

you probably assume your
best days are behind you.

But for one retired
lion in California,

it means he's about to
seriously get his groove back.

In the early 1970s,

a revolutionary idea
takes hold in zoos.

Rather than cages,

why not a place where the
animals can roam free?

Thus, in California, we
have Lion Country Safari.

The general public
is invited to drive past

big predators, like
lions and tigers,

within the supposed
safety of the family car.

If you tip the
attendants well enough,

they will throw meat
onto the car itself

so that the lions
climb up for a meal.

In addition to
being an attraction,

these wildlife parks also
have another mission,

which is to breed captive lions

for selling to other
parks and zoos.

The problem is, in
this California park,

the lions aren't breeding.

What they
fail to realize is that

these lions and lionesses,
they grew up together.

They were in the same
packs and groups,

so they behave as if
they were siblings.

There's almost a genetic
taboo from them mating.

In essence, the lionesses
friendzone the male lions.

Around the same time,

there's a circus in Tijuana
that's going bankrupt,

and they have this very
old lion named Frasier.

Lion Country Safari
agrees to take him in

so he can retire there.

This lion is 19, and that's
like 80 in human years.

He's arthritic, he's so
toothless that his tongue

just hangs out of his mouth,

and he's got this patchy mane

that looks like some kind
of sad lion comb over.

He may not
have the looks,

but what this lion does
have is plenty of mojo.

When Frasier
limps his way over

to where the pride is
sunning themselves,

suddenly the
lionesses all perk up,

like he is the lion that
they've been dreaming of.

Soon, Frasier has a whole
harem of lionesses.

They go with him everywhere.

They bring him food, they pillow
his head when he lies down.

They walk beside him,

holding him up because
he's so unsteady.

They also breed with him.

a lot.

Before you know it,
there's lion cubs everywhere,

and not like four or five.

Frasier fathers 35 lion cubs.

This is with 11 lionesses
in just 18 months.

No zookeeper has ever
seen anything like this.

And of course, this isn't
happening behind closed doors,

this is all on display
for the public.

And in the freewheeling '70s,
Frasier becomes a sensation.

The zookeepers know that
they've struck gold,

and so they make
him their mascot,

naming him Frasier
the Sensuous Lion.

He becomes
mainstream famous.

A low-budget movie
is made about him.

Sarah Vaughan records
a song about him.

People start producing

Frasier for President
bumper stickers.

According to some accounts,

Frasier receives upwards of
1,500 fan letters a month,

many of which are from
fellow older men asking,

"What exactly is the
zoo feeding him?"

Sadly, in July of 1972,

Frasier the Sensuous Lion,

who brought unrelenting
joy to countless fans,

and at least 11 female
lions, passes away.

Basically, he died of old age.

He was, after all,

near the human equivalent
of 100 years old.

From defiant birds to
death-defying chickens

and monkeys who
mastered the racetrack,

these creatures didn't
just surprise us.

They redefined what's possible,

making them the very
best of the unbelievable.