All language subtitles for Africas Dragon Mountain BBC Natural World 2010 720p HDTV EN sub_Subtitles02.ENG

This is the highest, widest
mountain range in southern Africa.

Named for its brooding
and unpredictable nature.

The Drakensberg,
or Dragon Mountains.

Some say they're a friend
only to vultures.

It's an uncompromising place
to produce new life.

Yet eland antelope have found
a way to eke out an existence

on these slopes,
despite the hardship.

All the animals here must
constantly negotiate a living

with this beast of a mountain.

The Drakensberg present an almost
mythical set of challenges,

but every year, eland prepare

to meet the mountains head-on,
as they start their long climb

to the very top of this world.

Mountains are hostile places,

and the Drakensberg has
a particularly dark reputation.

It's far, far older than the
creatures it dominates, its birth
the most violent imaginable.

160 million years ago,

as Gondwanaland split into
the continents we know today,

lava poured out across
the Drakensberg region,

and cooled into layers
of resistant basalt rock.

The toughest basalt still caps
the Drakensberg peaks,

while softer sandstone
has succumbed to aeons of erosion.

Our story lies at the heart
of this thousand-mile stretch

of soaring mountaintops
and precipitous ravines.

There's often a 2,000 metre drop
to the valley floor.

Vultures fly so high
that local legend says
they can see into the future.

Flight is one of the few ways
to cross these mountains.

Not for nothing have Zulu people
called it Ukhahlamba -
the barrier of spears.

The steep valleys of sandstone
propping up vertiginous basalt

escarpments might seem the
last place to find these animals.

Eland antelope are more
usually at home in Africa's
deserts and savannah.

They seem like trespassers on the
Drakensberg's lower alpine pastures.

In fact, they are no strangers
to these dizzying heights.

The artists who painted
these images were San Bushmen,

who revered the eland as a source
of nourishment and strength.

The paintings are 2,400 years old.

The eland's struggles
with the Dragon Mountains
go back way further.

Eland don't look like
natural mountaineers.

They're Africa's largest antelope.

Bulls can weigh as much
as 800 kilograms.

Even so, they will soon need
to climb even higher.

The newborn calves have no idea
of the ordeal that lies ahead.

For now, they are insulated
by motherly love.

Many eland are born in spring,
as adults gather in advance
of their remarkable expedition.

It's also when the grass carpeting
the lower Drakensberg slopes
is most nutritious.

It helps the mothers
produce plenty of milk.

Calves take their first steps
within the hour.

But it'll be a while before they
are strong enough to escape from
predators, or to run with the herd.

To stay out of harm's way,
the calf lies low in the meadow,
waiting patiently for its next feed,

and allowing its mother
to stay with the herd.

Eland are instinctively
wary of predators,
so they prefer not to graze alone.

As the calves get stronger,

and as spring grass shoots appear
on higher slopes, the Dragon
Mountains will tempt them upwards.

Above the gathering eland herds,
but below the basalt escarpment,
live chacma baboons.

Born small but smart, baboons rely
on intelligence to deal with
the difficulties of mountain life.

They also depend on each other,
not only for affection.

Within their extended families,
they learn everything.

How to find food,
even in hard times...

What is smart behaviour...

..and what might lead to trouble.

An infant's family
is its safety net.

The adults are always on full alert.

Jackals are persistent, but they are
no match for full-grown baboons.

Jackals roam up and down
the slopes looking for anything
small and defenceless.

But the calf has an
effective deterrent -

its mother's sharp horns.

Predators may be the least
of the elands' concerns.

The higher they climb, the more
exposed calves will be to the
Dragon Mountains' violent moods.

Within minutes,
the middle Drakensberg experiences
a catastrophic drop in temperature.

The only way baboons can avoid
exposure is to huddle up against
the mountain's flanks.

Below them,
the eland have no shelter at all.

This is the calves' first experience
of the Drakensberg's fickle nature.

A break in the clouds
is just a tease.

From here on, the mountains will
not just dictate the weather, but
control where the eland can feed.

Generally in Africa, the rainy
season is a long-awaited blessing.

Up here, there's a heavy price
to pay.

The rain can be incessant, bringing
not just cold, but hunger, too.

It dilutes
the nutrients in the soil,
and the grass loses its goodness.

It turns too sour to eat.

The longer it rains, the greater
the need to find new pasture.

The adults have fat reserves
to help keep them warm.

But the smaller,
leaner calves will suffer.

When the conditions turn against
them, the herd faces a long trek.

Better grass will be spouting higher
up, but that means starting the
calves on their gruelling climb.

This first year of life
will be touch and go.

The mountain's scavengers
are ever-alert for those
too weak to move.

Today, one little calf has lost
its battle with the cold.

Cape vultures specialise
in cleaning up the carcass.

A jackal might have
better luck here.

Baboons and mother elands send
jackals packing, but not vultures.

A bearded vulture
is last on the scene.

But that's because it's not
going to waste its energy
competing for the meat.

It's waiting for the leftovers.

90% of the bearded vulture's diet
is bone marrow.

However, their beaks are not strong
enough to crack the bones open.

This darker-faced juvenile
needs to use the powerful
thermals to help with that.

Bearded vultures deliberately
drop bones from a great height.

Once they've shattered, the birds
can get to the marrow inside.

They can even eat the bone itself.

Strong stomach acids will digest it.

Pound for pound,
bone is more nutritious than meat.

So far from being the poor relations
of the vulture world, these birds
can exploit a valuable resource.

Despite this,
they are very rare birds.

It may be a tough place to live,
but the Drakensberg
is a guardian to many.

Without such vast, open spaces,
bearded vultures would be
in serious decline.

Above all, this is the region's
most important watershed.

The 800-metre drop of the
Tugela Falls, the world's

second highest waterfall, turns
the stream into a veil of rainbows.

The Drakensberg's huge mass
influences the weather,
and therefore all life around it.

The water flowing off the Dragon's
back is the source of South Africa's
largest and longest rivers.

By the time spring turns to summer,
the eland will have climbed many
hundreds of metres to the mid-Berg,

where they skirt the slopes
in their search for fresh grass.

It offers adults and calves
the chance to build up body fat.

Capricious weather at these
altitudes doesn't just affect
the quality of grass.

Flowering plants must be tough to
survive the mountains' demanding
regime of rain and frost.

Wind is another great enemy, sucking
moisture from every leaf and flower,

so most plants huddle
close to the ground.

Pollination is the greatest
challenge of all...

..which is why one flower
times its opening to the
emergence of this beetle.

A protea flower has cast its spell
on the scarab beetle.

As the beetle roams through the
petals, it collects a dusting

of pollen, which it will carry
to the next flower.

Summer won't last long
at this height.

Flowers can't just rely on insects
to help them set seed.

Sugarbirds can do the job too.

But it's the protea's sweet nectar
which draws them in.

The feathers on their heads
will transfer the precious pollen
to the next bloom.

During these fleeting summer months,
the eland will mate.

The females release
an enticing scent

which encourages dominant bulls
to make advances...

..only to be rejected.

The females aren't ready just yet.

But that won't stop the males
thrashing about in the vegetation,
checking out the field...

..or putting on an
eye-catching display.

In these middle ranges,
the grass has set seed,

providing a highly nutritious feast
for the baboons.

They might spend all day
harvesting and eating.

But the Drakensberg
is never generous for long.

Now these middle altitude meadows
are at the mercy

of the frequent summer storms,
whipped up by the mountains.

They drain the grass
of its food value.

Once again, the eland
will have to move on.

They'll need to find still higher
slopes where heavy rain has not yet
leached the goodness from the grass.

The baboons in the mid-Berg
are hardened to this.

The grass may no longer taste very
good, but they can eat other things.

There are roots worth digging for.

It means the baboons can stay put,
while the eland
are always forced on.

As the summer rains continue,

the grasses pull their remaining
nutrients back to their roots.

What's left is no better than straw.

For the wandering eland,

opportunities to find pasture
close off behind them.

As a last resort, they seek out
valleys where they can browse

on the leaves of trees known as
ouhout, or "old wood".

Even the smallest calves
can reach the lower leaves.

But the old wood
comes with a bite.

Fire ants nest along the branches.

They can sting
as painfully as wasps,

and will surge out to defend their
homes against browsers like eland.

The ants are the warrior-herdsmen
of their world,

and have livestock to guard -
aphids.

The ants milk the aphids
for their honeydew secretions.

The aphids, in return,
gain the fire ants' protection.

The leaves also flourish,
thanks to the ants.

Even the hungriest eland doesn't
like being stung in the mouth.

It serves to move the whole herd on.

There is little rest
and not much food.

The Dragon Mountains all too
easily claim another young victim.

Not all eland calves
are born in spring.

Those dropped now are
especially vulnerable.

The mothers are struggling
to feed themselves, let alone
produce milk for four months.

Many newborns
won't survive this journey,

and there are many creatures waiting
to benefit from their demise.

The jackal must decide whether
the scraps are worth a tussle
with the vultures.

But on this occasion, the vultures
appear determined to have the last
of the carcass for themselves.

The slopes have never
seemed more desolate.

But the eland cannot retreat.

There's nothing to eat
at lower altitudes.

Their only option is to carry on up
the mountains, and the river courses
are the easiest routes there.

Along the banks
there is some respite.

This long march in search of food
is particularly taxing
for the hungry calves.

But, day by day, their stamina
is increasing, and they become
better able to withstand hardship.

Rainfall is so high in the
Drakensberg that the thin soils

are readily stripped
of what richness they contain.

Mountain streams benefit.

The wide-mouthed frog
makes a good living here,

by hunting almost everything else.

There's an abundance of crabs,
which thrive on decaying
plants and animals.

And the wide-mouthed frog
lives up to its name.

It can't be the easiest of meals.

But nothing on this mountain
is straightforward.

Soon it becomes clear why the eland
have staked everything on their
upward climb.

The higher they go,
the cooler it is,
and the later the seasonal change.

At 2.5 kilometres above sea level,
the grass is only now springing up.

The herds also become more
concentrated - up to 300 strong.

Even the heaviest males will make
the assault on the Dragon Mountains'
steep upper slopes.

To the baboons that live all year
round at these incredible heights,

the eland are a travelling
sideshow,

worth little more
than a moment's curiosity.

Arriving on these high altitude
pastures is like entering
a second spring.

The air may be a little rarefied,
but so is the elands' palate.

What guides them in their wanderings
is simply the quality of grass.

But up here, close to the spine
of the Dragon Mountains,

they are exposed
to its most terrifying force.

The baboons seem to know
what's coming.

The Dragon Mountains have a habit
of turning lightning into fire.

The smell of burning
is new to the calves.

Instinctive fear makes them flee.

After an electric storm, there's
no rain to quench the flames.

These dry lightning fires can sweep
up the mountain at incredible speed,

and eland are in danger
of becoming trapped.

The fire-breathing mountains
have laid waste to the vegetation.

Few trees survive
a scorching like this.

But in time,
the grasses will return.

They have dealt with this fury
many times before.

Having nested high above the
fire-line, the bearded vulture can
survey the blackened mountain side.

There may be casualties,

bones to be picked over.

But this time, the eland mothers
have successfully guided their
calves away from the inferno.

They may be temporarily
disorientated, but they will
do what they've always done -

travel in search of new pastures.

The baboons have no option
but to remain here and make
the best of the seared earth.

But somewhere across this
brooding giant of a mountain range,

grassland will once again
spring into existence.

Beneath the blackened soil, a crop
of tubers has survived the fire.

Baboons have both clever minds
and the hands to take advantage
of this timely resource.

Like humans, they produce babies
with large brains and small bodies.

That means months of physical
vulnerability and dependency.

Mothers need to stay close,
especially in this
unpredictable place.

Within days of the fire,

underground moisture works
its magic on the charred land.

The new grass has been fertilised
by the ash of the old thatch.

But in this early stage of regrowth,
it's thin on the ground.

Eland, especially the males,
are big animals, so to find enough
to eat they must stay on the move.

Their mobility and stamina is
proving to be their core strength.

The calves will be more robust now,
which is just as well.

A sudden cold snap shows just how
treacherous these mountains can be.

Billowing in from the south, the air
temperature drops lower and lower,
until it's barely above freezing.

A mother baboon
is looking for her baby.

A vulture has spotted
the missing infant.

But the father gets there first.

The mother still doesn't know
what's happened.

The baby could have strayed too far
from its mother's warmth.

Or it could have been killed by
another male, in a fit of jealousy.

Whatever the reason, the vulture
won't get the body just now.

Baboons can carry dead infants
for days, not wanting to let go.

Mother's still waiting.

She's finally realised what's wrong.

There's little room for ceremony.

The baboons will grieve...

..and the master of these
mountain spaces will have
to look elsewhere for a meal.

Despite the rigours of such high,
cold places, there is evidence -

tracks worn into the hard basalt
rock by countless generations
of hooves -

that eland long ago conquered
the Dragon Mountains' summit.

They may have evolved
on the plains and savannah,
but each year, eland use these

ancient pathways to chase the summer
right up to the roof of their world.

How and when they found this good
pasture, on the very highest
plateau, is lost in time.

But it will keep the mothers
in good condition and allow them
to finish nursing their young.

Eland don't form close friendships.

They drift in and out
of herds as they please.

Although it looks like
they're grooming each other,

they're licking off each other's
sweat for the minerals it contains.

But there may be
useful side-effects.

It might discourage parasites.

Perhaps they gain some reassurance.

The calves that have made it
to the top will reap the reward

for completing the climb of their
lives - a last rich stream of milk.

However, the gathering clouds are
a reminder that, at this height,

summer is like borrowed time.

Others are already
preparing for the worst.

Ice rats can only survive up
on the Dragon's back thanks to

their snug burrows, which they
must now stockpile with seeds.

Gathering this harvest exposes them
to more than just bad weather.

Servals depend on ice rats up here,
but they have to be quick.

The serval's large ears can detect
their movement underground.

But the ice rats are out of reach.

3,000 metres up,
the grass is tender, just as the
elands' noses told them it would be.

But the air is cooling fast.

It's now a perilous place to be.

The winds have changed, bringing
with them a deadly dose of winter.

This is something
their cousins in the deserts
and savannahs will never see.

But the Drakensberg eland
know it's time to retreat.

Antarctic chill is streaming into
southern Africa, and some won't make
it down the mountain for the spring.

These bones are too big
to be anything but an eland's.

Snow, in Africa,
is something extraordinary.

But not in the Drakensberg.

Ice rats have carved out
their very own niche up here.

They're found nowhere else.

Their fast pace of life
helps them stay warm.

But they need constant refuelling.

And now there's very
little to eat above ground.

As ruthlessly as any predator,
the mountain weeds out
the weak from the strong.

At lower altitudes it's much warmer,
but the eland herds
need to keep descending,

back to the lower slopes where so
many of their calves were born,

to find fresh green grass again.

Less than half the eland calves
survive this first year

and arrive back where they began.

But these survivors are tougher
for their ordeal.

The elands' remarkable ascent
of the Drakensberg is legendary.

The yearlings will
continue that story.

Following ancestral paths,
they'll lead new generations
of eland back to the summits.

Their stamina and resilience is
defiantly etched along the flanks

of the Dragon Mountains -
time-worn journeys through famine,
snow and fire.

This is one of the most
gruelling places to live in Africa.

But in constantly pushing the
creatures that exist here to the

limits of endurance, the Drakensberg
also reveals their true strength.

ELR 2010

ELR 2010