All language subtitles for AD3ED392FDFD20F7BD206B1A071B78DE_eng

There are more kinds
of insects in the world

than all other kinds of
animals put together.

But because they are so small,
we rarely see how extraordinary they are.

Occasionally, they assemble in astonishing
numbers.

A billion monarch butterflies hibernate in
the forests of Mexico.

A billion monarch butterflies hibernate in
the forests of Mexico.

Vast clouds of mayflies emerge all at once
to mate.

Insects face endless challenges.

They can transform their bodies to meet
every purpose.

Eyes grow on stalks.

Bodies become chemical guns.

To discover how and why they do such
things, you have to enter their world.

Patagonia, Chile.

Home to one of the most extraordinary of
beetles.

There are many kinds
of beetles in the world,

but this one has some
of the biggest jaws of all.

He is Darwin.

Darwin's beetle.

He's on his way to the forest to look for
a mate.

Whether he gets one or not will depend on
his strength and on the size of his jaws.

He starts his search.

A female is likely to be on a tree trunk.

But trees in this part of the world are
very tall.

His search could be a long one.

Unfortunately for him, she is 25 metres
above him.

Near the top.

She has more normal-sized jaws.

But then, she only needs them for feeding.

But he needs immense jaws for fighting.

But he needs immense jaws for fighting.

Because there are other males around with
the same mission.

Shear's strength is not enough in these
battles.

The technique is to
reach over your opponent's

head and hook your jaws
under his wing covers.

That's why his jaws are so long and have
that odd shape.

He's got the grip.

Now he has to lift.

And that needs strength.

Another lift is needed.

And that's that.

Beetle armour is strong, so he bounces.

The winner climbs on.

There are more males ready to fight him up
here.

ỗ

And here she is at last.

But she doesn't seem to be in the mood.

This is Great Jaws as a restraining cage.

Success at last.

But the hurling habit dies hard.

Insects' bodies have the capacity to take
on an almost infinite variety of shapes.

This is one of the keys to their success.

This male moth doesn't go in search of
females.

He inflates a pair of scented plumes that
protrude from the end of his abdomen.

And they come to him.

All insects have the same basic design.

Six legs and an armour-covered body.

But the different parts can become
exaggerated to solve particular problems.

This beetle has a giraffe's neck in order
to fight.

A praying mantis is disguised as a flower
and waits in ambush.

Another is almost invisible among dead
leaves.

Insects' armour can carry colours that can
camouflage or communicate.

But the armour can also be converted into
wings.

And that makes insects
a global force, enabling

them to invade almost
every habitat on Earth.

In southern France, one insect is starting
on the most important day of its life.

Dawn.

And a newly hatched damselfly.

She needs to mate and lay her eggs before
sunset.

Her adult life is so short, she may not
get another chance.

Her success will depend on these fragile
wings.

She faces many perils.

Few insects can escape.

And she can't escape from a spider's web.

But her wings are more powerful than they
look.

She wants to mate with the strongest male.

However, the stream where she might find
him is a battleground.

She watches while dark-winged males
compete for the best territories,

flashing their wings at each other in
threat.

Or trying to force their opponents into
the water.

Fighting finished, the female uses her
wings to signal her presence to the winner.

She won't be rushed, but if he doesn't grip
her with his tail, a rival might steal her.

As they mate, their linked bodies form the
shape.

And they can't escape.

But now she has the problem of laying her
fertilized eggs.

And that brings new hazards.

Like any athlete, she must warm her
muscles for optimum performance.

And does so by using her wings as solar
heating panels.

She must fly dangerously low if she's to
find the right place for her eggs.

Only the quickest damselflies escape.

Safely past the frogs,
this female has reached

a suitable plant on
which to lay her eggs.

But she has to place them underwater if
they're to survive.

For the first time, her wings seem to be a
hindrance.

But in fact, they help
her yet again by trapping a

silvery layer of air which
enables her to breathe.

She cuts into a plant stem and deposits
her eggs inside.

Now her wings are going to be truly
tested.

If she can't break through the water
surface, she will drown.

Her day has been a complete success.

Damselflies seldom venture beyond their
homes.

They can be found in the wild or in the
stream.

But some insects fly huge distances.

September, on the shores
of Lake Erie in southern

Canada, a monarch butterfly
is fueling up on nectar.

A

Chill gust of northerly air.

It's time to leave.

The coming winter will be so cold,
it would kill her.

She has never flown more than a few
hundred metres in her life.

But now she is heading out over Lake Erie,
which is a hundred miles across.

This is just the first leg of one of the
world's greatest animal migrations.

She will continue south,
using the sun as a compass,

to cross America, a journey
of two thousand miles.

Her destination is Mexico, and one small
and special group of trees.

No one knows how she finds them in these
great mountain forests.

She joins other monarch
butterflies that have

travelled here from
all over North America.

Countless butterflies
crowd these

particular trees, hanging
from every branch.

They come here because, although winter
brings a chill to the air, there will not

be a lethal freeze of the will in Canada.

The conditions are perfect for
hibernation.

Hibernating butterflies are very rare.

They are vulnerable to predators.

But monarchs are poisonous.

However, a few birds have learnt to rip
out the toxic parts and eat the rest.

They kill hundreds of thousands of
butterflies, and dislodge many more.

Those that fall must
get back into the trees

before nightfall
brings another killer.

They vibrate their wings to warm their
flight muscles.

But it's a race against time.

Night brings a lethal ground frost.

Those that do survive sleep safely huddled
together in the trees for four months.

The warmth of spring wakes them from their
hibernation.

It's the first time they've ever seen a
butterfly so close to the ground.

The majority of the butterflies that flew
here from Canada have survived.

They take their first drink since their
arrival last autumn.

With increasing warmth, more and more
butterflies awake.

Soon they will all disperse northwards,
and tranquility will return to this forest.

Until the great grandchildren
of these butterflies

return to escape the
freezing northern winter.

Some insects, however,
have made a speciality

of living in the most
adverse conditions.

Mono Lake is known as Gale Lake.

It's the California's Dead Sea.

It's twice as salty as the ocean,
and lethal to almost all life.

Alkali flies are one of the few creatures
able to tolerate these conditions.

And since they have virtually no
competitors, they swarm in their millions.

Flies are one of the most successful of
all insects.

There are 85,000 different kinds.

And among them, a perfect fly for almost
every habitat.

Even this one.

The alkali fly has special abilities that
enable it to live on this lake.

It can walk underwater to eat algae.

Fine hairs trap air bubbles that prevent
it from drowning.

But most critically,
the fly has a physiology

that can neutralize
the lethal levels of salt.

So the antler flies.

The alkali fly's dominance
of Mono Lake goes

unchallenged, except for
a few weeks of the year.

100,000 Wilson's phalarope are migrating
to South America.

Mono Lake is their only stopover.

These alkali flies, for them, are an
invaluable and irresistible feast.

The fly has no defense.

Except to fly and become lost in a vast
swarm.

It needs considerable skill to pluck an
individual fly from the air.

There are gulls here too.

Though their fly-catching techniques are
not so refined.

.

.

.

.

In the lynx and the phalaropes double
their weight.

Then they set off again heading South.

Leaving the gulls behind.

The size of the fly population has
scarcely been affected.

.

For them, sheer abundance is defense
enough.

But for some insects, defence is a much
more complicated affair.

.

.

.

.

.

This is Mr. Beetle in South Africa.

He hunts ants.

Eating ants may give him more than just
nourishment.

He may get something else from them that
helps him fight his enemies.

The ants launch a counterattack and nip
his ankles.

But he simply kicks them out of the way.

The valiant ants drive him off,
straight into real danger.

A mongoose.

It's inquisitive.

But it's also wary of the uchpista.

A black-and-white pattern is a warning
signal.

The beetle takes aim...

and fires formic acid straight at the
mongoose's eyes and mouth.

The beetle probably collected this acid
from the ants.

It certainly makes the beetle itself very
distasteful.

And that, in turn, makes it worth
mimicking.

This defenseless little lizard carries the
beetle's warning pattern.

It also imitates the way the beetle runs.

Not particularly well, it's true,
but well enough to fool predators into

thinking it just might be an acid-firing
beetle.

All kinds of insects have developed
chemical weapons.

A pair of devil-rider stick insects.

They fire bitter-tasting oils,
terpenes...

European wood ants under attack from a
hungry crow.

They fire the sort of acid that gives
nettles their sting.

So this is like one of us falling into a
nettle patch.

But the master of chemical warfare is the
bombardier beetle.

It can create a chemical
reaction within its body so violent

that boiling caustic liquid
explodes out of its abdomen.

By pulsing the jet 500
times a second, it keeps its

rear end just cool enough
to prevent it being cooked.

In the woodlands of Minnesota, there is
an insect that has another chemical weapon.

But this one fights as an army and can
stand up to almost any predator.

Bees collect nectar all
day and transform it within

their stomachs into one
of nature's richest foods.

Honey.

Hundreds of them are
bringing their precious

loads back to their
colony in this hollow log.

The honey in their combs provides food for
their young and for the whole colony if

the weather turns cold or there's a
drought.

But so much food attracts thieves.

A black bear cub has a sweet tooth.

But he's never come across
bees before and he doesn't

know that they will defend
their honey to the death.

Stinging is the ultimate
self-sacrifice for a

bee because it can't
pull out its barbed sting.

So its body is torn apart.

The bee's attack was far too much for the
cub.

But a greater challenge is coming.

The cub's mother.

The bees fight so hard that she only has
time to steal a single comb.

While the family enjoy
their honey at a safe

distance, the bees appear
to have been defeated.

Their home has been destroyed and their
young will inevitably die out in the open.

Yet the colony is not doomed
because the workers are

now rescuing at least
some of what really matters.

Their honey.

Each survivor is able to eat its own
weight in honey, storing it in its stomach.

They will have to abandon their dying
young, but they will take much of their

precious honey with them to sustain
themselves while they build a new colony.

Working together in such an organized
society is the insect's great innovation.

So how did it begin?

It may have started in a place like this.

The nest of the Japanese red bug.

Parent insects don't usually care for
their offspring, but this bug is different.

The young feed on fallen fruit from just
one kind of rare tree.

They could never find it by themselves,
so their mother collects it for them.

She probes every fruit she finds to test
its ripeness and rejects one after another.

This can take hours.

At last, a perfect fruit.

A thief.

It's easier to steal than find fruit for
yourself.

For both bugs, the outcome of this dispute
will be life-changing.

As the mother struggles
to keep her prize, her

young, back in the nest,
are growing restless.

.

.

The thief has won.

The mother doesn't know
that her hungry young are

leaving their nest in
search of a better provider.

She returns to find that her nest is
empty.

Her young find the nest of the thief,
who is herself a mother.

She returns to find that she has twice as
many mouths to feed.

The loser has failed at her only chance of
parenthood.

For the thief, life has suddenly got much
harder.

A fruit won't now last as long as it did.

The young clamber over her, demanding
more.

She returns with
another fruit, but her

enlarged and insatiable
brood wants still more.

So she has to work non-stop, day after
day.

At last, the young become big enough to
fend for themselves.

But their success has come at a cost.

The mother has worked herself to death.

And now her body has become their last
meal before they leave home.

Looking after the young
in such a way is thought

to be the first step towards
living in a community.

But some insects benefit from doing the
opposite of collaborating.

They kill one another.

Dawson's bee is one of the largest in the
world.

It nests in the baked soil of the
Australian outback.

Flowers are rare in
this desert, so colonies

of these bees are
few and far between.

The bees excavate tunnels for their young.

The community is so
harmonious that it's hard to believe

that this place is also the
setting for mass murder.

Tempers do flare when a bee gets confused
and goes down another's burrow.

But these are minor disagreements.

The colony is peaceful at the moment
because every bee here is a female.

It's the males that are the killers.

And they are all dead.

Their story began two months earlier,
before the appearance of the females.

Male Dawson's bees.

The females are only just emerging,
burrowing their way one by one out of the

tunnels where they hatched and grew up,
and they're sent in flames, the males.

They are huge and built for fighting.

And each one wants to be in the best
position in order to survive.

They're sent to mate with a female.

A female emerges and immediately does a
brawl as every male tries to reach her.

It's very rare for animals to kill their
own kind in combat.

But stinging and
biting rivals to death is

usually the only way these
male bees get a female.

A winner manages to claim a female,
and the pair race for cover.

Meanwhile, the female's lingering scent
drives one unsuccessful male...

into a deadly frenzy.

Another female,
caught in the middle of

another brawl, becomes
an accidental casualty.

And this is the second sentence.

By the time the last female has emerged,
every male is dead.

The battles have
ensured that the strongest

males will have mated
with the most females.

Two months later, and
it's an all-female world, with

the next generation already
developing underground.

Insects have evolved sophisticated
societies that, in complexity,

are the closest thing in nature to our own
cities.

The insects that built this structure in
Argentina dominate the surrounding

grasslands, thanks to skills that seem
almost more human than insect.

It's a metropolis.

And it's not just a metropolis.

A home to millions of ants.

The colony needs a huge supply of food.

It's surrounded by grass.

But the ants themselves can't digest a
blade of it.

Nonetheless, they collect it.

Although they're all the same species,
they exist in different shapes and sizes.

The heads of these big-jawed individuals
are not full of brain, but brawn.

They give the species its name.

They are grass cutters.

They work all day, every day.

The small ants down on the
ground are porters, with the

job of carrying the grass
segments back to the colony.

They have great strength.

Their main problem is balance.

Columns of them carry
the grass back to the

nest, along highways as
straight as Roman roads.

Different members of
the colony specialize in

particular tasks, in much
the same way as people do.

But, as in human society, there can be
problems.

A hitchhiker makes one ant's job much
harder.

And this isn't even grass.

A single colony harvests
half a ton of grass a

year, more than any other
animal on these plains.

But since they themselves can't eat it,
why do they do so?

The answer lies underground.

They have one of the most extraordinary
survival strategies in the insect world.

The ants have dug a network of tunnels that
extend downwards for over seven meters.

At the heart of the colony lies the key to
their survival.

A fungus.

But this isn't sloppy housekeeping.

This is a fungus that is found nowhere
else on Earth.

And the ants cultivate it assiduously.

The big-jawed ants chop up the grass,
covering it with an antibiotic saliva that

kills every kind of fungus, except this
one.

The ants are farmers.

They feed the grass to the fungus,
and the fungus thrives.

The ants cultivate dozens of these fungus
gardens throughout the colony.

This is what they eat.

The system is so efficient that a single
colony can have five million members.

But the fungus is also dangerous.

As it grows, it releases carbon dioxide
that could asphyxiate the entire colony.

The ants' way of dealing with this danger
is ingenious.

They construct their nest so that it has
an automatic air conditioning system.

The outer surface is so
shaped that the slightest

breeze sucks out stale air
through these central vents.

At the same time, fresh
air is drawn down through

the outer vents right
into the heart of the nest.

Our own societies have existed for
thousands of years.

But insect societies have lasted for
millions.

There may be 10 million
different kinds of insects, and

there are 200 million
individuals for every one of us.

The insects' flexible armour and their
adaptability has made them the most

abundant and the most diverse animal group
in our planet's history.

The Sierra Madre
Mountains in Mexico are

home to one of the
greatest natural wonders.

A billion bright orange
butterflies offered

the life team a wonderful
filming challenge.

The colonies are only
found above 3,000 metres,

and the team trek there
slowly in the thin air.

The monarch phenomenon was only discovered
here around 30 years ago, and one man has

been studying them every year since,
Professor Lincoln Brower.

His knowledge will be essential
if the team are to achieve

their goal of flying a
camera among the butterflies.

It's amazing that the
butterflies only come to

this area that's about
30 by 60 miles in extent.

There are other areas that have high
forests, in different parts of Mexico,

to the west of here, to the south of here.

But as far as we know,
this is the only place

that monarchs are
able to spend the winter.

The butterflies are in such numbers that
filming them the traditional way from a

camera on a tripod is reasonably
straightforward.

But to get a butterfly's
viewpoint by flying a camera

amongst the swarms is going
to be altogether more difficult.

First, the team need a spot where
butterflies gather in huge numbers.

Luckily, Lincoln knows a place where
thousands come down to drink every day.

The crews spend the next three days
preparing the equipment.

A remote-controlled camera, a lot of
cable, two bicycle wheels, a bag of rocks,

and some muscle power.

Now, all they need to do
is wait until the butterfly

numbers reach truly
impressive proportions.

By mid-day, the butterflies
are swarming, and it's

time for the camera to glide
with them through the air.

Three and away.

Let's just stop that.

That's it.

Stunning.

We've got great numbers coming in,
so let's keep going.

And then we'll do a turn there.

And then, shot.

A series of unique shots, flying with the
butterflies.

But that was the easy part.

Now, it's time to get the camera 50 metres
up into the treetops.

Filming the roosting butterflies is not
going to be simple.

The clusters are unstable.

And they can suddenly disperse without
warning, what Lincoln calls an explosion.

Here's another explosion.

Wow, look at that.

And they're going right over our head.

Spectacular, no doubt,
but a real problem for

the climbing team, Jim
Spickler and Tim Fogg.

Would it be better for us to start now?

We're going to be very careful not to
disturb them or limit our disturbance.

But if we do disturb them, right now,
it seems that they're warm enough that

they could relocate to a cluster right
adjacent to us.

Do you think that's true?

Well, if you disturb them, they tend to
fly away from the tree, 50 feet or so.

So you'll lose those clusters,
I think, if you disturb them.

Do you think they'll cluster again?

No.

No?

Tomorrow night?

I doubt it.

I think they'll just move down.

Yeah.

That's really hard stuff.

Because I can't see how we can get up the
trees and do what we have to up there.

Close to any clusters without them flying.

I just don't know how I'm going to be able
to get an arrow into the tree.

If you picked your tree, you could put the
arrow in it now.

The prospect of rigging
cables high in the canopy

without disturbing the
butterflies is a daunting one.

They may only get one chance.

One false move and it'll all be gone.

And I sort of had the
impression that they might

come back again, but
Lincoln says they just won't.

They'll just move on to another tree.

So we'll put all the rigging in,
disturb them and then that's it.

Choosing which trees to rig is a critical
decision.

Can you get right to the tree number six
tree then?

Or is that too far?

They begin by firing a line over a
suitably high branch.

That'll work.

Nobody, not even Lincoln, knows how the
butterflies will react.

Yeah, that's going to work perfect,
I think.

OK, great.

I've got to do a change over here,
so just give me a moment.

There's an explosion.

Thankfully,

it's not in the trees that Jim and Tim are
rigging with such care.

Can you just push it towards me a bit,
in fact?

Oh, ow.

You all OK?

Yeah.

OK, get your fingers out.

Yeah.

OK, that's good.

It takes another three
days to get the aerial rig

set up, followed by
many hours of fine-tuning.

Can you just pan it so we don't see it in
the monitor, please?

Everything is finally set, and the
butterflies are still there.

One, two, three.

Take one.

Too slow.

There was no load at the beginning,
so suddenly it just completely stopped.

Yeah.

Take six.

Slow now.

Keep going.

Start slow.

Slow down.

And keep going.

Keep going.

Keep going.

OK, Mike, hold it.

Not far enough.

We've not got enough weight, Jim.

Take nine.

Go on, Mike.

Go on, Mike.

Getting close, Mike.

Now start slowing.

OK.

So... It's still not right,
and now time is running out.

I think the light's going.

This... Can you
do one last take?

All right.

Because these ones here, they're losing
the light on them.

Yeah.

Try and get a shot that's going fast here,
if it's smooth.

One, two, three, and we're away.

Take 17.

And it's looking good.

OK, start slowing, Mike.

That's good.

OK, keep it going.

Keep it going.

Can't see it.

Success achieved.

At last.

With the technique now working,
the crew rig more and more shots to give

an aerial perspective on the monarch
phenomenon.

His work advising the crew over,
Lincoln continues the observations he's

been making for over a quarter of a
century.

Although the butterflies
are still here in immense

numbers, he's worried there
is a threat to their survival.

The big, huge influx, maybe sometimes as
many as two billion butterflies,

flying down into this tiny
area of 30 by 60 miles,

is thoroughly endangered
by illegal logging.

If the forest is not protected,
the phenomenon will be lost.

That would be a disaster.

I mean, it would be
like taking the Mona Lisa

out of the Parisian
Museum and burning it up.

That's a good idea.