All language subtitles for 43991B58285226BA6D0D9655F9508151_eng

The Sun is absent for up
to half the year in the Polar

Regions. When it returns
at the beginning of spring, its

warmth will transform
this magical ice world.

The greatest seasonal change
on our planet is now underway.

Antarctica is still locked
in ice and surrounded by a

frozen ocean. Nonetheless,
there are signs of spring.

The daily penguins are
arriving, just the males. They've

spent five months at sea
where it's warmer than it is on

land, and now they're in a
hurry, for spring will be short.

They have travelled 6,000
miles across the ocean since

leaving their colony last year,
and now they're returning to

breed. They cannot lay their
eggs on ice, for they would

freeze, so they have to come
here, where there is bare rock.

Over the coming months,
the few parts of Antarctica that

are ice-free will be the stage
on which five million Adelies

will build their nests.

To construct one, they need
pebbles, and without a good

-looking nest, a male will
be unable to attract a female

when they, at last, arrive. An impressive
property demonstrates your worth as a mate.

It takes stones of all shapes
and sizes to build a decent

nest, and finding ones
that are just right is not easy.

So some penguins turn to a life of crime.

The one who has been
robbed seems unaware that the

thief is just over his
shoulder, and looking for more.

The thief's nest is coming
along nicely, probably because he

keeps a particularly sharp
lookout for robbers. After all,

he takes one to know one.

It's still cold, but the
early-season sun does lift the

temperature by a few degrees.
That, however, can have

unexpected, even dangerous, consequences.

The sea is heating faster
than the land, pulling cold

air from the middle of the
continent towards the coast.

These catabatic winds are
stronger than any hurricane.

They are the coldest and the
most ferocious on the planet.

The storms catch many new
arrivals by surprise, and are the

reason that spring here is,
in fact, the deadliest season.

Here, early birds take a great risk.

Some years, entire colonies
are lost, buried beneath the

snow. The survivors of this
storm must hope that the females

prove to be worth the wait
when they finally decide to turn up.

Spring in the north of our
planet. The sun, after an absence

of six months, breaks the
horizon for the first time.

A female polar bear emerges
from her den beneath the snow.

The sun must be a welcome
relief after so long in the

darkness.

Her den is on a high slope,
well away from hungry male bears

who would kill her cubs, but
close enough to the sea ice

where she can find food for
her extraordinary new family.

Three young cubs.

If you can raise them all to
independence, it'll be a rare achievement.

One of the cubs is underweight and will
be fortunate to survive these early weeks.

If the family reaches the sea
ice where the female can catch

seals, her milk will be
enriched and the smaller cub will

quickly gain size and strength. The
sea ice, though, is a dangerous place.

The male polar bear has
been out on the frozen ocean all

winter. Times have been lean
and a bear cub would certainly

make a welcome snack.
However, the mainstay of his diet

is seals and now is the time
when they have their pups.

The surface of the frozen sea
is marked with pressure ridges

and cracks created by the
fluctuating tides. Both are good

places to look for seals.

He has detected a seal den
beneath the ice. Now he must

pinpoint it using only his
extraordinary sense of smell.

By treading lightly, he
can avoid scaring his prey.

He will need to punch through
a meter of snow to reach the

den. And if his aim is not
exactly on target, the seal will

certainly escape.

In fact, the ringed seal
abandoned her den just a few hours

ago and her pup has climbed
up onto the surface. It's more

exposed up here, but it's easier
to see an approaching bear.

The pup is well
camouflaged, difficult to see

when its mother has
left it to go fishing.

But he can still smell it. He can

smell it. Nine out of ten
polar bear hunts end in failure.

The sun's warming effect
on the Arctic is increasing

and the sea ice is showing
the first signs of weakening.

Inland, the northern rivers
are still locked in ice. The

frozen waterfalls are like
dams, holding back billions of

tons of fresh water that has
not moved for almost six months.

The vast watershed lies motionless,
but as spring advances, it begins to stir.

The frozen waterfalls start to weaken.
Above them, the pressure is mounting.

Now from high above, whole
sections can be seen to be on the move.

The waterfalls are straining to hold back
the force that is building up above them.

The dam bursts and the river is unleashed.

Millions of tons of ice
fall. The ice grinds their

way downstream, driven by
the unstoppable force of the

meltwater.

Boulders and trees are
plucked from the bankside.

Within just a few days,
the rivers of the north are

all running. The Arctic's
fresh water is flowing again.

These vast floods contain
10% of the world's fresh water,

and as they enter the ocean,
they accelerate the break-up.

Soon, an area of
sea ice the size of

Australia will vanish
from the Arctic Ocean.

As the huge ice sheet breaks
up, wildlife returns to the north.

The polar bear mother has
made it to the edge of the sea

ice, but the smallest cub is
nowhere to be seen. It's a sad

outcome, but the disappearance
improves the chances

of the remaining two, who
now have more milk to share.

Having led her cubs
to the edge of the ice,

the mother's next
challenge is to catch a seal.

Not easy with these two in tow.

Her prey beneath the ice can
detect the slightest vibration,

especially from bears, and
this is not the stealthiest of

hunting parties.

Leaving her cubs
behind, however, is not an

option. A male bear
would eat one in a moment.

This is not going to be easy.

It seems that the cubs already
see themselves as fearsome

hunters, but they're still
young enough to accept their

mother's discipline. It's
the naughty corner for you.

This is not going to be their
lucky morning. They saw no

sign of a seal and the cubs are
hungry again. The mother has

been nursing for four months
without once eating herself,

and now her milk is drying
up. She must catch a seal soon,

or the whole family will starve.

The challenge of finding food
is getting harder. She needs

the sea ice as a platform
from which to hunt, and it's

breaking up faster with each passing day.

Even the ice around the
coast is starting to break.

The first cracks here are
eagerly awaited by some.

Narwhals.

The unicorns of the north are
on a mission to reach the new

fishing grounds in the bays
that have been frozen up all

winter, but are now opening up.

To get to them, the narwhals
must travel down leads,

temporary cracks in the ice.
But these new roads could close

at any time, cutting off the
air that they need to breathe.

The road narrows until
there's barely room for one-way

traffic. Then a surprise.
Narwhals coming from the other

direction.

It's a standoff. Each team
faces an armory of sharp tusks.

Finally, one side concedes, and
everyone continues in the same direction.

Within a week, the remaining
bays break wide open, and

the narwhals turn their
attention to social matters.

No one knows exactly what
the narwhal's tusk is for. Some

say it's used for fencing,
yet these exchanges are too

gentle to be real fights.

Perhaps these encounters
are to remind each

animal of where it
stands in narwhal society.

We may never know.

Bizarre creatures appear
as if from nowhere. The tiny

plankton they eat have been
fueled by the increasing warmth

of the sun, and fertilized by
the nutrients brought down by

the great rivers and released
from the melting sea ice. Sea

gooseberries strain the water
with their stinging filaments.

Their beating cilia scatter
the sun's rays into dazzling

bursts of color.

Beneath the breaking sea
ice, a predatory sea slug flies

through the water on
translucent wings. It's on the trail of

a peculiar swimming snail.

And now, the most voracious of the plankton
eaters swim up from the depths. Arctic cod.

The shells can be enormous,
some containing 500 million

fish, and predators travel
hundreds of miles to feast on

them.

The cod harvest is the annual event
for the birds and seals of the far north.

For just a short period,
the combination of the

strengthening sun, the
newly flowing rivers, and the

breaking sea ice make the
Arctic Ocean teem with life.

The land is also
transformed by the sun's heat.

The small patches of bare
ground that appear are darker

than the snow, so they absorb
more of the sun's energy. This

accelerates the melt.

The Arctic tundra is unveiled.

By tracking the sun, Arctic
poppies catch its rays around

the clock, so their flowers
are always warmer than their

surroundings.

For early season insects, this
warmth is even more valuable

than nectar if they are
to stay active in the cold.

The woolly bear caterpillar
does not need the warmth from

flowers to kickstart its
spring. It's always the first

insect to appear after
the snow retreats, and

the story of how it does
so is truly astonishing.

At the start of spring, the
caterpillar eats as fast as it

can, as indeed it must, for
this far north the season would

be brief. The days shorten
only too soon, but the

caterpillar has not yet got
enough reserves to transform

itself into a moth. It can't
leave the Arctic, for it can't

fly, so it settles down beneath
a rock. The sun's warmth

rapidly dwindles.

Beneath the rock, the
caterpillar is out of the wind, but

the cold penetrates deep
into the ground. Soon its heart

stops beating. It ceases
to breathe, and its body

starts to freeze. First
its gut, then its blood.

Spring.

After four months of
darkness, the Arctic begins

to thaw, and the caterpillar
rises from the dead.

By the time the first shoots
of willow appear in the early

spring, the woolly bear is
already eating. But no matter how

fast the woolly bear eats, it
will not have time to gather

enough food this year either,
and the cold closes in once

again.

Year after year, the caterpillar slows
down in the autumn, and then freezes solid.

But eventually, a very
special spring arrives.

This one will be its last.

It's now 14 years old, the
world's oldest caterpillar. Its

remaining days now become
frantic. It starts to weave a silk

cocoon.

Inside, its body is changing
into one that can fly and

search, abilities that will
be crucial in the days ahead.

It's waited over a decade for this
spring, and now its time is near.

All across the Arctic, moths
are emerging. After completing

their 14-year preparation,
they now have just a few days to

find a partner and mate.

No life illustrates more vividly
the shortness of the Arctic

spring, or the struggle to
survive in this most seasonal of

places.

As spring advances, the
transformation of the tundra continues.

Migrants begin arriving
from the south, and

suddenly the tundra is
alive with birds and chicks.

The Arctic's transformation is complete.

This influx of life is good news
for some permanent residents.

Food is rarely plentiful
out on the tundra. The Arctic

wolves must make the most
of this boom while it lasts.

The wolves must gather as
much food as they can. Many miles

from here, other members of
the pack are relying on them.

This barren landscape is a
hard place to make a living,

forcing wolf packs to be
smaller here than further south.

Six hungry moths to feed. The
cubs are just over a month old.

The ducks are devoured
instantly, but on the long journey

home they also caught an
Arctic hare, a mainstay of the

tundra diet, and one the cubs
seem to be particularly keen on.

Uneaten food is usually
hidden for leaner times, but there

will be no leftovers today.
The cubs are growing fast and

are always hungry.

The good times are certainly
back, but these white wolves

remind us of the Arctic's less
welcoming side. Their coats

are pale to conceal them
during the long, snowy winter.

It's easy to forget that one month
ago, this land was a barren white desert.

At the southern end of our
planet, the Antarctic sea ice is

still at its greatest extent.
But there are a few islands on

its outer edge that the
sea ice never quite reaches.

South Georgia is washed by
the rich waters of the southern

Atlantic, and the comparative
warmth of the sea takes the

edge off the vicious southern winter.

It's even possible for a
few hardy animals like the

wandering albatross to live
here throughout the whole year.

The enormous albatross chicks
take 13 months to fledge, so

they have no choice but to
sit here throughout the winter.

It can't be easy, but the
thick layer of fluffy down keeps

out the worst of the cold.
Their parents travel thousands of

miles to collect the fish and squid
they need to stay warm and to grow.

The season is turning, and
storms blow in with little warning.

King penguins have
also been here all winter.

Their chicks survive by
huddling in crashes to conserve

their heat. A solitary bird
here standing alone would

quickly die of exposure. It
seems for a hardy few, violent

storms are a price worth
paying for year-round fishing in

the rich waters of the southern ocean.

The penguins have had
the beach to themselves all

winter, but that is a
luxury that will not last.

As the winter storms
subside, life begins to return.

For half of the year, South
Georgia has the greatest

concentration of seabirds in
the world, and most of them

arrive in the early spring.

Macaroni penguins make the
most impressive entrants, over

five million pairs of them.
They are the world's most

numerous penguin, and half of them
are now here. The arrival is complete.

Courtship is next on South
Georgia's busy spring schedule.

The wandering albatross
has the most elaborate display.

These two are renewing their
bonds after being months apart.

Wanderers pair up in their
teens and can spend a further

50 years together, one of
the longest partnerships in the

animal world.

By the middle of spring, the
snows have cleared from the

coves and the loggos. The
beaches are almost free of ice

too, but that isn't the
biggest change facing the king

penguins. Their peaceful
waterfront has turned into an

obstacle course of blubber.

The elephant seals have arrived.

This beach now contains a greater mass
of animals than any other in the world.

The young seals were conceived
here a year ago, and now that

they've been born, their
mothers are ready to mate again.

The mating rights on this
patch of the beach belong to a

beachmaster. His harem contains
50 females. Females that are

coveted by others.

His authority is being challenged.

This rival means business.

This could be the beachmaster's
first serious test of his spring campaign.

The beachmaster himself weighs
four tons, but this rival is his equal.

When these titans clash, bones crunch.

This is the first time
I've seen this happen.

This is the first time
I've seen this happen.

This is the first time
I've seen this happen.

He has won the first battle,
but he may have to defend his

harem every hour for the next
month. If he can stay master

of his beach for this period, many of
the young born here next year will be his.

It's the end of spring on the
wandering albatross cliffs,

their season for fledging.
Last year's chicks have lost

their fluffy down and step up to
the challenge of getting into the air.

The albatross is not very
competent on the ground, so until

it can fly, it isn't good for
much. And this makes the

maiden flight the crucial
event in an albatross's life.

Managing the largest wingspan
in the world takes practice.

Lots of it.

Weeks can go by like this.
Certainly the winds must be

right, but it does appear
that for some the problem is

something of a mental one.

At last.

The southern ocean
beckons. This bird's feet

will not touch land
again for five years.

One thousand miles further
south, on the edge of the

Antarctic continent, the
sea ice is only just starting to

break. But the daily
penguin's activities are certainly

warming up. The males have
now finished their nests by fair

means or foul, and the
females are finally returning just

as the weather is improving.
Now their courtship can begin.

The eggs are laid. And
the females leave the job of

incubating them to the males
while they go fishing out on

the fragmenting sea ice.

Killer whales.

It's teamwork that makes killer whales
so dangerous. And this is a big team.

And this is a big team.

And this is a big team.

And this is a big team.

And this is a big team.

And this is a big team.
There is no real need for the

penguins to be alarmed. These
killer whales are a kind that

only eats fish.

Rising out is simply the best
way for the whales to work

out which tracks lead towards
the coast and better fishing.

A new generation of Adelies
steps forth into the short

Antarctic spring to be
nurtured by industrious parents

who've taken great risks to
give their young a head start.

They will need to grow fast
if they are to fledge and leave

before the freeze sets in
again. It's a battle they will win

or lose over the approaching summer.

To film the entire breeding
cycle of the Adelie penguin,

frozen planet sent a team
to one of the world's largest

colonies at Cape Crozier, Antarctica.

Cameraman Mark Smith
and director Jeff Wilson plan to

spend the next four months
living amongst the penguins in a

location first visited by the
early explorers a century ago.

So arduous was Scott's winter
expedition to Cape Crozier

that it became known as
the worst journey in the world.

Modern means make Mark and
Jeff's journey a more comfortable

affair, but once there, they
will be tested to the very

limits of their endurance.

The pair arrive in early
spring with enough supplies to

survive the next four months
working alone in the Antarctic

wilderness.

Scott's legend of Cape Crozier
tells of some extreme weather

to say the least. So Mark
and Jeff take advantage of the

clear conditions in the knowledge
that the Adelie's arrival is imminent.

But the next morning, things
take a turn for the worse.

We've just come up to this
ridge to go and check exactly

what it looks like down in the colony.

Even here you can hear a
huge kind of roaring noise up on

the hill. Never really heard
anything like that before.

Up there must be blowing up
the most almighty gale and that

is, you know, just a mile away
or something. So that means

that could get here very,
very quickly. So, yeah, it makes

you slightly scared. Weird,
isn't it? The winds here are

famously ferocious and
with so little experience of this

location, Mark and Jeff
retreat to the relative shelter of

their hut. I was just today
thinking, well, it can't be too

bad because we haven't seen
rocks start to blow around yet.

And just at that moment, it was like
a rock took off and rolled down there.

Yeah, it's getting stronger.
By the second day of the storm,

the winds reach 80 miles an
hour and it's apparent that even

getting lunch from the
outside larder is too risky. Yeah.

To their increasing alarm,
the storm continues to build.

All afternoon it's been blowing
about, it must have been 100

miles an hour and in the
last half hour it's just got a lot

stronger. Aside from being
absolutely terrified, Zia did

worry that our gear is stashed
outside somewhere, that

we didn't have room for it
in the hut. We just don't know

whether it's going to be there
in the morning or not, which

is just about the end of our
trip. On the third day of the

storm, the winds hit 130
miles an hour. The hut starts

to shake from its very
foundations and Mark and Jeff's

situation becomes critical.
The wind's so strong it's

constantly blowing the pilot
light out on the parapet stove,

so the temperature's strong.
The wind's rising. It's like

the bloody roof's coming off.
The really scary thing is that

had we gone out down to the
colony and tried to film today,

it's a very high likelihood that
we'd be dead by now. And I

don't say that lightly,
there's no way we would have

seen this through down
there and that is quite sobering.

After four terrifying days
inside the hut, the winds

finally drop and Mark and
Jeff are keen to see what, if any,

equipment has survived.
All the real important stuff, the

camera stuff, is all still
here and it's still strapped to

this rock.

You have no idea how much joy that
gives us. We can get on with our jobs now.

The first things to welcome
us into the colony are

these skewers which come
in and batter us from above.

At its height, the colony
will swell to over half a million

penguins and in the 24-hour
daylight of the Antarctic

summer, Mark and Jeff
spend all of their waking hours

filming. Unpredictable weather
continues to force the team

to climb the two miles back
to the relative shelter of their

hut and Mark devises a novel
way of testing the wind speed.

After six weeks, the first
sign that the pair might be

tiring of their penguin
neighbours. Over there's a leopard

seal. It's the first non-penguin
looking animal in two

months. Look at that, it's a
leopard seal. So I was down

here filming the penguins
coming in, followed this penguin

that came out of the waves
up the beach, very nice shot,

stopped the shot and there
in the middle of the frame was

this completely white penguin
trying to get into the shot.

We kind of suspect that he
might be following us around now.

Working around the clock
for this length of time in the

presence of half a million
screaming penguins would test

anyone's resolve. I hate
carrying gear. Hear that? I hate

carrying gear. I don't want to
do it anymore. Midway through

their trip, after more than a
thousand hours amongst the

penguins, their grip on reality
is beginning to loosen. Here

we are on the Penguin
Superhighway where the penguins go

down to the sea. It seems
that they follow the American

system driving on the right,
going down to the sea on the

right, going back from the
sea on the left as you're facing

the sea. I'm fairly sure that yesterday
they were doing the British system.

The legendary Cape Crozier
weather soon snaps them back into

reality. We're just filming the
penguins with this huge wind

storm coming over the ice
cap. This is the kind of thing we

were warned about by the guy
who was here before, who's been

here for several years and
saying if you see skies like this

then you should run for home.
But of course we're just going

to stay and film it because
we're the BBC. But in this part

of the world, working for the
BBC doesn't count for much.

Within minutes the winds
reach hurricane strength and the

crew are in serious trouble.
We've got an hour venture out

and go up about a mile up
this valley which looks like it's

got about 80 mile an hour
winds blowing down it. So it's

going to be quite an
adventure. Bit frightening though

really. After three months
the pair are now fully aware of

the strength the winds can
reach. There is a very real

danger that they could be
separated and lost in these

whiteout conditions.

Two terrifying hours later and their relief
at finally reaching the hut is tangible.

With a month still to go at
Cape Crozier, Mark, Geoff and

the penguins will face many
more storms like this. But it

seems that their greatest
challenge will be to maintain

their sanity. Here we are
travelling through the Antarctic

by sled we're being
pulled by a herd of huskies.

Twelve of them panting out
front, breaths steaming from

their mouths. And as we go
along we see the happy people

waving at us.

We're going to take off!