All language subtitles for Yellowstone Episode 3 Autumn 2009 Bluray_Subtitles01.ENG

NARRATOR: Yellowstone,

volcanic wonderland.

Two million acres of wild space

right in the heart of North America.

The heat of the summer has unveiled

the full extent
of the Yellowstone wilderness

and, for a few precious months,
it has blossomed.

But, now, Yellowstone is changing.

In just a few weeks,
the snow and ice of winter will be back.

(BUGLING)

As the animals of Yellowstone
now turn to face

perhaps the biggest challenges
of their year,

the true value
of the world's first national park

is about to become clearer than ever.

It's late August
and on Yellowstone's peaks

there is already
a dusting of fresh snow.

Now, a new sound marks the new season.

(BUGLING)

Fuelled by testosterone,

the bugle call of this male elk
is a boast of his strength.

(SHRILL BUGLING)

All over Yellowstone,

male elk are challenging
each other for dominance.

(BUGLING)

The sound of Yellowstone's autumn.

(SHRILL BUGLING)

They are trying to win
the admiration of females

and gather them into a harem.

Only then do they stand a chance
at mating with them before winter.

But the females are not yet in season,

so they are not really that interested.

And, for now,
they have a more practical concern.

Winter will soon be here.

They are eager
to head down to lower ground

before the snow comes in earnest.

Some will move down into nearby valleys,

whilst others willjourney much further,

even beyond the boundaries
of Yellowstone itself.

Yellowstone is deep
in the Rocky Mountains of North America,

an isolated high plateau
defended by rugged peaks.

In the middle is the National Park.

The park and the surrounding mountains
form one of the most important

and spectacular
wilderness areas on Earth.

In just two months, this great plateau
will become a deep freeze once more.

Before then, the animals of Yellowstone
will have to get ready

or get out.

But, for now,
below the snow-dusted peaks,

summer still lingers
in the heart of Yellowstone.

(GRUNTING)

The sun has revitalised this place

and, now,
there are more living things here

than at any time of the year.

The summer has brought visitors too,

who are enjoying Yellowstone
at its most vibrant.

As the sun now starts
to get lower in the sky,

the rich colours make this

one of the best times
to see the geysers.

On the grasslands,
the good times are already over.

These bison are making
the most of the grazing,

but it is now dry and parched.

From now on, they will have to rely
heavily on stored fat

to keep them going,

as these meadows become covered
in more than four feet of snow.

Others are already thinking of leaving.

Pronghorn evolved to outrun
a now-extinct North American cheetah

and, so, are the fastest
antelope on Earth.

But, unlike bison,
their lightweight bodies can't store

enough energy to keep them here
through the winter.

So, now they must head out.

Theirjourney
will be the longest of all.

But as many are preparing to get out,
some have no choice but to stay.

In the remote north east
of the Yellowstone wilderness

are the Beartooth Mountains.

Here, surviving above 8,000 feet,

a tree now welcomes
the change of season,

the whitebark pine.

All summer, these trees have been
soaking up the energy of the Sun

preparing for this moment.

Now, they offer
the animals of Yellowstone

a bumper crop of pine cones.

The whitebark pine
is gambling on the fact

that animals now need all
the food they can get before winter,

and is hoping it can entice them
to spread its seeds

far and wide across Yellowstone.

So, inside the cones,
it has put tasty, nutritious pine nuts.

A pine squirrel.

It snacks on a few of the nuts
to keep going

and then buries them, one by one,
in a sheltered hollow beside the tree.

If it hides them well
and packs them carefully,

they should last through the winter.

But this is not much good for the tree.

Its seeds have gone nowhere.

A grizzly bear mother and cubs.

It's unusual for a grizzly
to have so many cubs.

This mother has found
two orphans and adopted them.

But now she has four cubs to fatten up

before they go into the den
to hibernate this winter.

She's after pine nuts, too.

They are 50% fat.

In a good year, a grizzly bear
can put on five pounds a day

eating nuts alone.

If squirrels have done the hard work,

it doesn't matter
that grizzlies can't climb trees.

(SQUEAKS)

The squirrel willjust
have to start again.

Luckily, this year, the trees
are being particularly generous.

A Clark's Nutcracker.

This is what the tree
has been waiting for.

With its perfectly-shaped beak,
it prises the nuts from the cones

and tucks them one by one
into a special pouch under its tongue,

up to 1 50 at a time,

a fifth of its entire body weight.

Then it flies as much as 1 5 miles away

and drills the nuts
into the ground in sets of 1 0,

placing a stone on top of the stash
to mark the site.

It goes back

for more

and more.

Over the autumn,
a single bird can bury 30,000 nuts

across an area of 1 00 square miles.

When the winter comes,

it will manage to remember the location
of a staggering 70% of these seeds,

even when hidden beneath the snow.

But as the Clark's Nutcracker remembers
its way into surviving the winter,

it becomes
the whitebark's greatest ally.

Although its feat of memory
is extraordinary,

for every 1 ,000 seeds it buries,
it still forgets 300.

From all those missed seeds
carried far and wide across Yellowstone,

new whitebark pines
will germinate next spring.

It's now September

and the elk have made their way
down to graze

where the grass
on the river banks is still green

and they can browse the nutritious
shoots of young willow trees.

The males are now upping their game.

This bull urinates on himself
to increase his masculine appeal

and by thrashing his antlers
to decorate them,

he hopes to make himself
look more impressive.

(ELK BUGLING)

The females are paying
a little more attention now.

(SHRILL BUGLING)

The bull has succeeded
in gathering a fair-sized harem.

(SQUEALING)

But the females are still
not quite ready to mate.

They are now focused
on feeding as much as they can

before moving lower still.

But the elk are being watched.

(WOLF HOWLING)

Over the summer, wolves have been
less mobile because of their young pups

but their strength is building again.

The elk get twitchy
and head for the cover of trees.

They may be a little safer here

but the food in the forest is far less
nutritious than on the river banks.

If they want to eat well
and avoid wolves this winter,

they'll need to keep on moving.

(BARKING)

As the elk move gradually downwards,

they follow the rivers
out of Yellowstone's central plateau.

The rivers, in turn,
follow the path of glaciers

that flowed from this great bowl
in the last ice age

and carved their way right through
the barrier of surrounding mountains.

Today, these valleys are escape routes

for animals from
the returning ice of winter.

Lower down,
the valleys broaden, the rivers slow

and a richer variety of trees
grows in the alluvial soils,

the perfect home for Yellowstone's
most industrious creature.

(SPLINTERING AND CRACKING)

A beaver can fell a cottonwood tree
in just a few hours,

hundreds in a year.

The beaver doesn't chew
through the whole trunk,

just enough to make the tree unstable.

It then retreats

and lets the wind do the rest.

(CREAKING)

(WIND BLOWING)

It cuts branches
into more manageable lengths

and then swims them down a network
of purpose-built canals towards the dam.

The pond gives this beaver
protection from predators

and the canals allow it to forage
far into the forest,

carrying many times
its own weight with ease.

Autumn is the busiest time
of year for beavers.

It won't be so easy to make repairs
when the pond is frozen over.

The sound of running water
is their stimulus

to shore up gaps with timber
and plug leaks with mud.

But the dam not only serves the beavers.

Moose come here from the forests around

to feed on weeds that thrive
in the beaver's shallow pond.

The weed is rich in vital sodium
that the forest can't easily provide.

But now that winter is approaching,

another essential role
for the dam is revealed.

These smaller branches
are not for fixing the dam,

they're for eating.

The beaver secures them
to the mud in the lake bottom.

In just a few weeks,
this lake will be frozen

and the beavers won't be able
to cut and move trees.

But they will be able to swim
right under the ice

to feed from this underwater larder.

Moose also eat twigs and branches

and often try to take advantage
of the beaver's hard labour.

This young male is getting a little
too close to the beaver's larder.

Autumn is not a time for sharing.

(OWLS HOOTING)

It's mid-September.

As the sun drops further in the sky,

the aspens, cottonwoods and maples

start shutting down for the winter.

They now digest
the green pigments in their leaves

to claw back what nutrients they can
into the trunk and roots.

What's left behind
make the colours of autumn.

Groves of aspen
all turn at the same time.

Each grove descended from one tree,

interconnected by roots,

colour-coordinated.

As cold air sinks further down
from the mountains,

it brings autumn mist
to Yellowstone's valleys.

It was in the autumn of 1 870

that the first official
exploration party to Yellowstone

began to plan for the creation
of the world's first national park,

the beauty of Yellowstone's autumn

inspiring a complete change
in the way we value the wild.

(BUGLING)

For the last six weeks
of strutting and herding,

male elk have eaten almost nothing.

They are exhausted.

This bull has done well.

He has successfully held on
to his harem.

And now the females
are finally coming into season.

But they are being distracted
by another male.

(SHRILL BUGLING)

If a bull elk can't dominate all rivals,
he can't have access to the females

and all his effort
will have been in vain.

Now he must gather
the last of his strength.

The rival wants to take him on.

The aim is to get
an antler point into his neck.

But they are evenly matched.

Neither can penetrate the other's guard.

Now it's all about power.

A well-aimed thrust
or a broken neck will kill.

This challenger is lucky to get off
with just a parting stab in the rump.

(SHRILL BUGLING)

The victor returns to his females.

His young will be born next spring.

(SQUEALING)

But the prospects
are not so good for a defeated bull.

After all this effort,

he will now have to wait
until next autumn to try his luck again.

That's if he even makes it.

Bull elk, exhausted by the rut,

struggle to survive
the Yellowstone winter.

It's now October

and the winter is catching up
with the elk once more.

An early flurry of snow is a sign
that it's time to make a decision.

To stay is to face the certainty
of snow and wolves.

To go offers the chance
of an easier life,

but the uncertainty
of the world beyond Yellowstone.

(BUGLING)

Every autumn, thousands of elk
do leave Yellowstone.

And, as they go,
they cross an invisible line

out of the protection
of the National Park.

Here they confront new danger.

Dressed in orange to avoid each other,
but a colour that elk can't see,

hunters come to the forests
just around Yellowstone in October

to shoot elk.

(GUNSHOT)

(ELK BLEATING)

Elk, of course, have no understanding
of park boundaries or of Yellowstone.

To them,
this is simply an instinctive migration

to find more hospitable land,
so they just keep going.

Beyond the ring of hunting lands,

the natural mosaic of forest and grass

is replaced by an alien geometry.

Circles of irrigated grass,

squares of maize,

golf courses,

the signature patterns of mankind.

It's unlikely they'll be welcome here.

By now,
the pronghorn have pushed further

than any of the Yellowstone's animals.

Out of forests, through farmland

and down into the wide prairies

at the foot
of the Rocky Mountains themselves.

Their search for winter grazing

takes them over 1 00 miles
to the south of Yellowstone,

the longest migration
of any American mammal.

They have made this journey every year
since the last ice age.

But, nowadays, they have a problem.

(TRUCK HONKING)

Their traditional winter refuges

lie right above some of the richest
natural gas deposits in America.

The wells are no direct threat
to pronghorn.

But pronghorn are timid.

(TRUCK HONKING)

At the slightest noise they run

and when they run,
they run at 60 miles per hour.

They evolved to avoid cheetahs,
not juggernauts.

Trucks, fences

and the disturbance from the wells
have put pronghorn at risk.

There are 1 .2 million acres here,

but 75% of it
has now been earmarked for gas and oil.

Back in the farmland,
the elk have found food.

But this grass is not meant for them.

(COWS LOWING)

Ranchers will tolerate elk

as long as they don't compete too much
with their cattle.

But, as the elk move in, their old enemy
follows them out of Yellowstone,

an animal that's more difficult
for ranchers to accept.

In their minds,
fear of the wolf runs deep.

Even Yellowstone lost its wolves.

They were wiped out over 80 years ago.

After years of prejudice,
they were reintroduced in 1 995,

brought back by the authorities to
restore Yellowstone's natural balance.

But the wolves have done so well,

that now they are moving out of the park
looking for new territories

and prey.

Out here, it's clearer to see why
wolves have a bad reputation.

If ranchers' cattle are at risk,
by law, wolves can be shot.

As wolves come back, ranchers are
being forced to return to the old ways,

to get back into the saddle
and protect their herds.

(BEEPING)

(BEEPING RISES IN PITCH)

But opinion is changing.

Working with scientists who have
radio-collared the Yellowstone wolves,

ranchers can now keep track of them

and when they know they are near,

shoot not to kill
but to scare them away.

(CATTLE LOWING)

The return of the wolf
will always be controversial.

But evidence is now emerging

that wolves are far more important
than anyone imagined,

especially back in
the heart of Yellowstone.

It's nearly the end of October.

The cold autumn nights have brought
a thin crust of ice to a beaver's pond.

Unlike in the river valleys below,

up here, there are not many
tall cottonwood trees.

So this beaver has built his dam
from the shoots of young willows

sprouting all along
the side of his pond.

But he is something of a novelty.

Even by the time
Yellowstone was made a national park,

beavers had been virtually hunted
to extinction by fur trappers.

They only began to reappear here
in 1 995,

the year the wolves came back.

Now wolves are chasing elk again,
elk have had less time to eat willows,

so willows are sprouting everywhere.

Today, as winter approaches,

all over Yellowstone
beavers are using those willows

to put the finishing touches
to a dam-building renaissance.

And for every dam,
there is a new habitat for new life

and a richer, more diverse Yellowstone.

(HONKING)

But just as Yellowstone reveals
the complexity of life,

it also exposes its fragility.

On its lofty ridges,

there are signs that all is not well
with the whitebark pine.

From above, it looks like autumn colours
have come to an evergreen world.

But these trees are dying.

Small eruptions of resin
dot the trunk of the tree,

evidence of an invasion.

Tiny beetles are chewing through
the tree's outer defences.

Once inside, they lay eggs
that turn into larvae that eat the tree.

Each tree that is lost

threatens all the animals
that rely on its autumn bounty.

The only thing that can stop the beetles
is extreme cold.

But, recently, the climate here
has been getting warmer and warmer.

No national park
can protect against that.

This is a tree that needs a cold winter.

It's now November

and the elk have found
their feeding grounds just in time,

the snows of winter at their heels.

Here they join other herds
who come to this place every year,

where the snow will be less deep
and life a little easier.

But, today,
they graze on an island of grass

surrounded by development.

As they run from the winter,

the fate of Yellowstone's animals
outside the national park

is decided not by the cold,
but by people.

(SQUAWKING)

These elk are lucky.

This refuge has been kept aside
to give them some degree of sanctuary.

So, although the park isn't big enough
to protect all its animals all the time,

its influence can spread
beyond its boundaries

and if even ranchers
can come to tolerate wolves,

then anything is possible.

In the mountains of Yellowstone,

where the elks' bugles signalled the
beginning of autumn just two months ago,

all seems deserted.

But, now, the final act of the season
is about to take place.

From out of apparently nowhere,
come the bighorn sheep.

The toughest
of all Yellowstone's animals,

they can stay here all winter

on slopes and crags that
the biting wind keeps clear of snow.

Now they are coming together to rut.

Like elk, the males battle for females.

But where elk do their best
to avoid fights,

bighorn relish them.

A quick test of horn size
and of other important bits of anatomy,

and the males get straight to the point
of sorting out who is toughest.

As the sound of their battles echoes
across the Yellowstone wilderness,

it marks the end of autumn.

Now the great change is coming again.

Winter is here.

As the snow returns to Yellowstone,
it seems like the clock is turning back.

All traces of the human world
are covered up.

A reminder that when the heart
of this great wilderness

was made a national park,
nearly 1 40 years ago,

it was one of the most
remote places on Earth.

But as the human world
has crept up on Yellowstone,

the true value of this remarkable space
has become ever clearer.

Though, in many ways, Yellowstone
is not big enough,

its influence reaches
far beyond its boundaries.

Not just to the land around,

but wherever there is a wilderness
preserved for its own sake.

Here, in the heart of America,

the first national park was born.

An idea that has led the way

in redefining our relationship
with the wild all over the world.

Some say America's best idea.