All language subtitles for 9E1D9310E28467949E5A63FEB8AF6411_eng

The end of the Arctic summer
and the sun hasn't set for

three months. It's hard to
imagine the bitter cold will soon

return.

Some will welcome the chills
of autumn, but for most, time

is running out before they
will have to retreat to the

south.

Early autumn in the Canadian
Arctic, and polar bears are

gathering on the coastal
strip, waiting for the sea to

freeze.

But a life spent alone on the
sea ice is no preparation for

a crowded beach. Such close
contact with other bears must be

stressful. Surely tempers will flare.

Over half a ton of bear
slams into the other.

Polar bears will fight to the
death over mates, but not in

autumn. Now, these fearsome
predators display a surprisingly

tolerant side to their natures.
Being marooned on land means

the bears no longer have
access to the seals they usually

hunt, and they have to scrape
by on whatever they can find.

But the bears are still
looking for food. Like bears the

world over, they're not
choosy feeders. They even turn

vegetarian, delicately picking
out berries from between the

thorns.

There are plenty to go around, so
there's no need to squabble over them.

Any fighting is just for fun.

The bears select spawning
partners who are well-matched, and

they always pull their punches.
No-one wants to get hurt in

a play fight. No-one

wants to get hurt in a play
fight. Perhaps these bouts are

a way of testing rivals in case
they ever meet again out on

the sea ice.

One thing's for sure,
the famous loners are

revealing a social,
playful side we rarely see.

It's all just boisterous fun,
but with so many big males

around, the females keep
their cubs at a safe distance.

The wary mother will lead
her young to a quieter beach

along the coast while she
waits for the ocean to freeze.

The sea ice is now at its
minimum extent. In the Canadian

Arctic, vast stretches of
coastline are now unlocked and

ready to receive visitors.

Belugas, the white
whales of the north. They're

relying on open water to
reach an ancient rendezvous.

It's a journey they make every
year along traditional routes.

It's a journey they make
every year along traditional

routes. It's a journey they
make every year along

traditional routes. Baby
belugas ride piggyback, pulled

along by their mother's
slipstream. This one is only a month

old and won't turn white
for another five years.

Thousands of belugas are being drawn to
one special estuary in the Canadian Arctic.

It isn't food that brings them here.

Curiously, it's personal hygiene.

When the tide is
low, they swim into the

shallows and flail around
with great enthusiasm.

They're after a body scrub.

The gravel acts as a
loofah, and thrashing their

bodies across it helps
to get rid of their old skin.

Presumably, the treatment
keeps them clean and

streamlined, but it also
appears to feel good.

This is the skin of a beluga.
The water in the estuary is

warmer and less salty, and
that seems to soften the skin,

making the scrub more effective.

This secluded estuary is only
a temporary whale spa. The

ocean will soon freeze again,
forcing the whales to travel

south.

Vast seabird colonies
are the jewels of the Arctic.

Brunell guillemots have spent
the summer months packed

together on vertical cliffs
beyond the reach of predators.

They are among the most
numerous seabirds in the Northern

Hemisphere, the most common
species of bird species in the

Arctic. This colony alone
contains 100,000 birds, and

there are many more like it
all along the Arctic coastline.

In just a few weeks, these
cliffs will empty, but before

the guillemots can leave,
their chicks must fledge. Their

feathers are now fully formed,
but their stubby wings are

still too short for them to
fly properly. This will be a

challenge.

It's a 150-metre drop, and they need to
make it all the way to the sea. Here goes.

He falls short and
survives the crash landing.

The chicks are manna
from heaven for an arctic fox.

The next chick is accompanied by a parent.

Veiled by the gullet, they land again.

This looks better.

Success.

Aquatic landings are certainly gentler,
and foxes can't reach you out here.

The chicks will stay in their
parents' care for another month.

The guillemots are not the
only ones preparing to leave. All

across the Arctic, millions of
summer visitors are beginning

to return south.

The guillemot chicks can't
fly yet, so they and their

families must swim to their
winter feeding grounds. It's a

journey that will take
them 1,000 miles south to

the open ocean and away
from the approaching ice.

The breeding season is over,
and silence returns to the Arctic.

But as the first storms of autumn
sweep through the deserted

nesting grounds, they bring
an unexpected bonanza for the

few that remain.

The discovery doesn't
remain secret for long.

The gullet is a bit too
small for them to reach.

It's a huge fin-whale carcass.
The polar bears have been

drawn from several miles away,
guided by their extraordinary

sense of smell.

Bears are arriving all the
time, but there's plenty of room

at this 18-meter-long dining
table. The gullet is a bit too

small for them to reach,

but they're surprisingly
relaxed. But with

enough for everyone,
there's no need to argue.

The tastiest morsels are often underwater.

Others prefer some
greens with their dinner.

After a well-balanced meal, there's
nothing better than some good company.

Despite their
reputation as loners, it's

surprising just how
sociable polar bears can be.

The gullet is a bit too
small for them to reach,

but there's plenty of room
at this 18-meter-long dining

table. All across the Arctic,
the temperature is now

dropping, and the sea is
beginning to freeze. Every day,

over 20,000 square miles of
ocean turn to ice as the cold

spreads south.

At first, a thin, greasy film
appears on the surface.

Next, pancakes of ice start to appear.

The pancakes lock together
and form a continuous sheet.

The Arctic Ocean is freezing again.

At last, the bear family can return
to the sea ice where they belong.

It's been six months since
the cubs first emerged from the

den. They've survived the
hazards of melting sea ice in

spring and lack of food in
summer, and now, at last, they

are in their element again.
The cubs are now back in the

den.

As the north of our planet turns away
from the sun, the big chill travels south.

Temperatures on the tundra start to fall.

The shorter days and colder
nights trigger a dramatic change

in the willows and blueberry
bushes. They stop producing the

green pigment that
harnesses the sun's energy and

red and yellow pigments
build up in their leaves.

The tundra blazes with colour and
the whole landscape is transformed.

A bull muskox marks his
territory with scent from the glands

on his face. He's preparing
for the breeding season. He

shadows his harem of
females as they graze the last

of the summer grasses. The
harem of the female harem,

he must be on his guard.

An outsider is arriving, a large male
whose intentions soon become clear.

The newcomer circles
the resident bull warily. The

resident must take up
the intruder's challenge.

The harem of females
This clash of polar titans

could easily become
a fight to the death.

The impact is like a car
crash at 30 miles an hour.

A heavy skull and a helmet
of horn four inches thick

provides some protection
for the muskox's brain.

Over the next half hour, the
advantage ebbs and flows as

each tries to finish the duel.
If one can turn the other and

gore its flank, the fight will be over.

The stakes rise as the risk of
injury or even death increases.

The rival is outmaneuvered. And
the champion returns to his females.

By now, most animals have
migrated south, but the harem of

the female harem is still on
the run. The muskoxen, with

their thick coats, will stay and
face the approaching winter.

As autumn progresses,
the moisture in the air

freezes and hoarfrost
decorates the leaves.

Ice crystals grow like
diamonds on every twig.

The harem of the female
harem is still on the run.

All across the tundra, both the
rivers and the ground freeze solid.

The harem of the female
harem is still on the run. Glassy

cathedrals form as the remaining
water becomes locked up as

ice.

Soon, even the largest
waterfalls will be motionless.

The tundra has been transformed
once again. It appears deserted.

Caribou on their migration.
Unlike the muskox, caribou do

head south for the winter,
but it's a long and difficult

journey. They use the frozen
lakes as ice roads. These are

flat and firm, but it seems
hooves and ice were never really

meant to go together.

The frisky males would
be well advised to keep at

least one eye on the road
as the mating season begins.

A cow is being closely guarded. By a
mature bull with his much larger antlers.

The females are busy feeding
up for the winter, but the bull

has other things on his mind.
The cow is playing hard to

get. She heads off with
her admirer in pursuit.

Several other bulls join in the chase.

She's out in front, but the
amorous males are gaining on her.

The big bull breaks off his
chase to deal with a rival.

But now he's fallen behind
the other challengers.

The younger bulls with their
lighter antlers keep up with

the cow more easily, but as
the pace slows, the younger

bulls are getting
closer. The older bull

catches up. Again, he
has to stop and fight.

A decisive victory for the big
male. He's earned the respect

of the vanquished bulls and
they now trail in his wake. It's

now become a game of
grandma's footsteps. One look from

the boss... and the young
bloods freeze in their tracks.

The exhausted bull guards
his prize, but he'll need to

recover before he's able to
make the most of his victory.

And the herd continues its journey south
to avoid the worst of the advancing cold.

From the ocean to the tundra, the north
of our planet is now completely frozen.

The Antarctic. In the far
south, autumn can be a

particularly savage season.
It's a strange and unpredictable

time.

South Georgia is a splinter
of rock in the middle of

the vast southern ocean.
It's only 100 miles long and is

battered by the elements.

This ocean generates some
of the largest waves on the

planet. They gain size and
power as they travel around the

globe, uninterrupted
by land, for 12,000 miles.

As they buffet south
Georgia, they also bring food.

A seal carcass.

A prize worth braving the
surf for. Giant petrels are the

vultures of Antarctica and
are always the first to the

spoils.

The word is out and the hordes move in.

Like feathered dinosaurs,
they lock beaks in battle.

Aargh! Arrgh!

Arrgh!

These butchers provide a service
for some unlikely meat eaters.

With the carcasses now opened,
pint-tailed ducks arrive for a meal.

There's plenty of good
food here, and none of south

Georgia's inhabitants can
afford to be fussy with winter

looming.

After the feast, it's time for
a rinse and spin. Rinse and

spin. The breeding season
is finally over, and the petrels

will soon be heading out to
sea to avoid the worst of the

winter.

The snowstorm is an omen of things to come.

There is now little left to eat,
and south Georgia's beaches

will soon be abandoned to the
cold and ice. The snowstorm is

coming to an end.

It's time to go home.
Further south still, and the

first storms are striking
the continent of Antarctica.

The daily penguins must
rear their half-grown chicks to

adulthood before winter
hits in just a few weeks' time.

The chicks are only three
weeks old. Their downy coats

aren't fully waterproof yet,
and they cluster together for

warmth.

These creches are essential
during bad weather, as most of

the adults are away at sea,
fishing for their fast-growing

families.

When the parents return, their offspring
quickly leave the comfort of their peers.

Both chicks are ravenously hungry.

But there may be only
enough food for one. This race

could determine which
chick has the better prospects.

Most of the daily pairs will only manage
to raise a single chick each season.

And this may not be it.

At least number one is
getting stronger by the day.

With one meal delivered, the
parents must quickly find another.

To rear their chicks
before the onset of

winter, the penguins
must work round the clock.

The parents can travel over
100 miles to reach the best

fishing grounds and may be
gone for several days at a time.

They return with a kilogram
of fish and squid in their

bellies, feed their chicks,
and then go off again to repeat

the process.

The job must be finished
before the sea freezes over.

At seven weeks old, the
chicks are losing the last of their

baby down and are now fully
equipped to take the plunge.

Confidence is all that's lacking. Perhaps
it'll help if the parents lead by example.

There. Effortless and
as graceful as any fish.

It seems penguins are not
born with a love of water.

Staying submerged is the next problem.

Buoyancy control is clearly
a skill that needs practice.

Well, it's a start.

And at least they can
now reach the ice floes.

Swimming is the first of
many lessons. They must

next learn to recognise
danger in all its forms.

A leopard seal.

Even high up on an ice
floe, the penguins aren't safe.

They're not afraid of danger.
Each year, leopard seals will

take 5,000 of them from this colony alone.

The Odalis that survive drift
out into the Southern Ocean.

They will spend the next
five months feeding at sea,

avoiding the great freeze
that is about to envelop

Antarctica.

The edge of the sea ice
advances by up to 2.5 miles a day.

Eventually, over 5 million
square miles of ice will surround

the continent of Antarctica,
effectively doubling its size.

The great white wilderness
is empty. But not for long.

Bizarrely, it's now that
the emperor penguins

arrive, just as all the
other penguins have left.

They are now at their
heaviest. They've been

feeding at sea all summer
and can weigh 40 kilos.

They are now at their heaviest.

They are now at their heaviest.
From the edge of the sea

ice, they head towards their
colony. But an obstacle course

of jumbled ice blocks stands in their way.

This will be crucial for
their survival in the months

ahead, but it doesn't make
squeezing through narrow gaps any

easier.

With the worst behind them,
they start a 20-mile march into

the freezer to breed. The
only animals to do so. They are

now at their heaviest.

By tobogganing, they
can travel at twice their

walking speed and it takes
the weight off tired feet.

Their destination is the
thicker ice closer to shore, which

will stay solid long enough
for them to safely rear their

chicks throughout the months to come.

Their colony is in the lee
of icebergs, trapped in the

frozen ocean, which will
shelter them from the cold. They

will shelter them from
the bitter Antarctic winds.

Newly formed pairs promenade together.

Quatship demands that
both partners strike and hold a

variety of poses. It's an
important process, as the bond

between the couple will have to
be an exceptionally strong one.

The final act lacks the elegance
of the prelude, but at least it's quick.

The egg is laid a few days
later. It contains the females'

last reserves. The egg is laid
a few days later. She now has

nothing more to give and must
pass the egg to the male to incubate.

The couple must be quick. If the egg rests
on the ice for too long, it'll freeze.

With their eggs safe in
the care of the males, the

females start the long
journey back to the sea.

The sun is also leaving and
will be gone for many months.

The precious eggs,
balanced on the males' feet,

will make the terrible
ordeal ahead worthwhile.

The eggs are laid a few days
later. With no food and only

each other for warmth, they
will attempt to keep the next

generation alive while surviving in
the most brutal conditions on Earth.

Not all of them will succeed.

At both ends of our planet,
the sun sets for the last time

in autumn. A season of change
comes to an end and one of

endless darkness and bitter cold begins.

THE EMPEROR PENGUINS The
spectacular return of the Emperor

Penguins was a key event
for the frozen planet team.

The crew will have to operate
in the most dangerous of all

polar environments, the edge
of the sea ice. They have to

fly in everything they'll need for a
month of living on the frozen ocean.

On board are slow-motion
cameraman John Acheson, underwater

cameraman Didier Noirot
and director Chaddon Hunter.

With the plane gone, the team
are on their own. This is home

for the next month, but it
doesn't look like much right now.

Their tents should be secure
on the permanent sea ice, but

they're still miles from the
ocean where they hope to film.

The locals are keen to get
acquainted with anything of a

familiar shape and size. The
emperors are welcome neighbours

around the camp. But the
team need to film them returning

from the water, and to do
that, they face a daunting task.

They must find a path to the
open sea through a shifting

landscape of jagged sea
ice. Their first scouting trip

doesn't look promising. Neither
MAPS nor SATNAV are any help

in this ever-changing
environment. The only clue that the

ocean lies somewhere to the
east is a steady procession of

penguins. Any suggestions,
Didier? We must find our way.

Yes. And we will find our
way. I like the attitude. Penguins

have found a way. It seems
the emperors will be the key to

reaching the ice edge. OK,
let's go. With their penguin

guides leading the way,
snowmobiles are brought in to haul

500 kilograms of equipment
through the icy maze. It's tough

going for film crew and
penguins. When the ice ridges halt

progress, it's time for
some backbreaking work.

The next three days are spent chiselling
through mile after mile of broken sea ice.

Once finally clear of the
ice boulders, they spot

their goal, a patch of
open ocean with penguins.

John is first in position. He
hopes to capture the most

striking images by using a
computerised slow motion camera

but attempts to film the
penguins underwater are halted

by an unwelcome visitor. We
just saw the head of a massive

leopard seal. So we'll get
closer to see what's going on. We

must be careful because those
guys can come out very quickly

out of the hole and give a
bite. But being red like that, we

should be quite protected,
you know. Being dressed in red,

maybe Didier is not. It's
not this idea of safety, but the

rest of the crew have a
healthy respect for leopard seals.

They can be fiercely territorial
and are not afraid to attack humans.

That's very exciting. That's
the first time I've ever seen

a leopard seal in my life. And
he's come straight out of the

hole and starts kind of
walloping towards us. So a lot of

adrenaline. With the seal
frightening the penguins away and

hassling the crew, it's
time to try a new hole.

Oh, hello. Can you see him?

While the seal is around,
there's little hope of filming

the penguins, but now a far
greater threat is posed by the

changing weather. That dark
headland in the distance is Cape

Washington. That's our last
sign of mainland. We can't see

anything else. And once we
lose sight of that mainland, that

means we're out here on our
own on the sea ice. And this

visibility is getting lower
and lower. It's started snowing

and this wind is just blowing
offshore. So if all this ice

heads out, we don't
want to be on it. So I

think we're going to
can filming for the day.

All signs suggest that a big
Antarctic storm is on its way.

Winds pick up to 70 miles an hour
and everyone retreats to their tents.

High winds then turn to heavy
snow. On the driest continent

on Earth, a big snowfall is
rare. Whiteout conditions take

the penguins and the film crew by surprise.

Each day they must dig out their buried
equipment. Filming has ground to a halt.

One week and a metre of
snow later, the headland is visible

again and the team are raring
to get back to the ice edge.

They follow their old route
back through the frozen maze and

with no leopard seal in sight,
it's time for another attempt

with the pole cam. It's
cumbersome, but it allows the team

to capture underwater images
without having to risk the icy

water themselves.

That is okay? That's perfect.
They are coming, I can see

some. Oh, wow! Penguins
coming in the hole, this is awesome,

this is great. The aim
now is to film the penguins'

dramatic exit from the hole.
The only problem, which hole?

These penguins keep
outsmarting us. We tried to switch

holes to film them coming
up and of course they all just

completely came up behind
us. Whatever the crew try,

there's always someone
who hasn't read the script.

John has been filming, but
he can't view his slow-motion

shots until they're downloaded
to a computer. While he

waits, Didier seizes his chance.
Come, my friend, come. If

you can't beat them, join
them. It's time to go scuba diving

in the coldest waters on the planet.
I will see you on the other side.

The team are 300 miles
from help and have only

a small hole as their
lifeline to the surface.

A magical world opens up.
For the first time, Didier now

shares the penguins'
perspective from beneath the ice.

This is Antarctica at its most
enchanting. For Chaddon,

after weeks of struggle,
the sequence, quite literally,

falls into his lap.

Sorry. I think I'm in the way.

Oh, there's the blue coming from.

I think it was run over by
a penguin. I think it worked.

It's very difficult to tell.
John's camera is finally

capturing these super slow-motion
images of the emperor's dramatic return.

With the penguins
performing perfectly, it was all

falling into place. The team
were finally able to capture

Antarctica's most spectacular belly flop.