All language subtitles for Cloud Challenge of the Stallions VAHŞİ ATLAR 720p HDTV PBS Nature 2009 EN SUB

Kathrens: I entered the Montana wilderness,

to make a film about wild horses.

But I came to realize almost immediately.

That no one film could tell
a story so big,

and in many ways,

so unexpected.

What began as an assignment

became an obsession --

to follow the life of a stallion
I named "Cloud."

About the time
I think I have a handle on

what makes
wild horse society tick,

I'm thrown a curve.

It's been challenging following
the twists and turns

of this complex family drama.

This is a tale of two fathers,

Cloud and the mighty shaman,

who bring up each other's sons.

Both sons will begin a quest
to start their own families,

challenging the very stallions

who raised them,

in this, the third
and most remarkable chapter,

in Cloud's story.

[ Horse whinnies ]

Kathrens: For nine years,

I've been coming to a remote
and mysterious mountaintop

in the rockies --
an isolated wilderness

where wild horses roam.

At first, I only knew what we
commonly believe about horses.

Very quickly I realized
I had much to learn.

Raven became my teacher --

the elegant black stallion
and his mares

opened their world to me.

They allowed me to journey
with them,

and record the intimate details
of their lives.

I grew to admire their fierce
love of freedom and family.

A year into my journey
with raven's family,

they brought their newborn colt

out of the forest
in front of my camera.

He wasn't like the other foals
on the Mountain --

he was nearly white.

I named him "Cloud."

Following Cloud

through the seasons of his life
became my passion.

Understanding what it meant to
grow up truly wild and free,

my mission.

Once Cloud was
kicked out of his family

as a two-year-old,

he became
a bachelor stallion,

disappearing regularly

into the most remote parts

of his vast
wilderness home.

Every winter,
I searched for him in vain.

Deep snows always claimed lives,

and I feared he had died.

Each spring it was a tremendous
relief to see him alive.

Defying the odds,
Cloud won a mare

at the tender age of five.

Now, I believed,

I understood the complexities
of wild horse society...

How wrong I was.

In the spring of 2001,

I found a newborn palomino foal
with his coal-black mother.

She and the foal
were in the band

led by the stallion "shaman,"

a wise and powerful leader who,
once challenged,

was a devastating fighter.

But this colt couldn't be
shaman's son.

I knew that
Cloud was his father,

and regretted that he would
never know it.

I named him "bolder."

[ Bolder whinnies ]

Within days, I found Cloud,

and he had won shaman's
lead mare, sitka.

A month later, sitka gave birth
to a colt I named "flint."

This was shaman's son,

but he would grow up
under Cloud's care.

The plot had
definitely thickened.

At the heart of our story

are two very different fathers,

raising each other's sons --

and the astonishing
conflict to come.

Each spring, the wild horses
of the arrowheads

migrate to the mountaintop --
foals are being born,

and their mothers
are coming into heat.

Competition for mares is fierce,

and band stallions need to be
on their toes.

Just over the hill,

a major drama is underway.

A pack of determined
young bachelors

are gathering together
to challenge

the dun stallion,
prince, for his mares.

Cloud watches
the beleaguered band stallion

along with his steady

old lead mare, sitka.

As a two-year-old,

flint is surprisingly still
with his stepfather.

They watch the young males
circle prince's family.

Cloud senses an opportunity.

He knows prince is tired,

and rushes in to steal
one of his mares.

Prince attacks,

leaving an opening for Cloud
to take the rest of his band.

But he's intercepted
by a bachelor,

and forced to focus on
protecting his own family.

Prince fights off one bachelor

and rushes after another
who is driving his family away.

When Cloud tries to steal
prince's blue roan mare,

he gives the bachelors a chance
to capture his band.

Flint confronts
the red roan bachelor,

but he's no match for
the mature stallions.

Cloud snakes
the blue roan mare away,

keeping her away from prince
and the bachelors.

He's known this mare
all his life.

When he was just a colt
she came calling and,

and imitating
the adult stallions,

he tried to capture her --
but she got away.

I named the filly
"black velvet."

In time, her coat roaned out,
and she became just "velvet."

Cloud must choose his band,

or velvet and her
two-year-old daughter.

He chooses velvet.

Sitka leads the family uphill

with the bachelors
harassing her.

Cloud seems confident that
sitka can bring the band back.

In fact, she turns,
barreling downhill toward Cloud.

He knocks off one bachelor...

Then another.

When the bachelors
turn on each other,

Cloud has time to consolidate

his old and new families --

thanks to his loyal
lead mare, sitka.

The bachelors aren't
the big winners --

Cloud is.

After 8 years,

he has finally captured velvet.

As the years pass,
I see the rules

of wild horse society changing.

How unusual that shaman hangs on
to a maturing bolder...

And how doubly remarkably

that Cloud has done the same
with flint.

Both stallions
protect their sons

as if there's an advantage
to keeping them.

But just what advantage?

Perhaps the answer lies in
the increasing number

of Mountain lion kills.

Predation on the foals

is skyrocketing.

In one year alone,

all the foals
on the mountaintop disappear,

mainly due to the lions.

In response to
these heavy losses,

I see the bands
adapting their behavior.

Shaman and Cloud's families
are often close together.

More horses means
more eyes and ears

to detect a prowling cat.

Shaman and Cloud might consider
the young stallions

as an early warning
defense system.

When sitka gives birth
to a dark filly,

and velvet to
a bright orange one,

I fear that they too will
fall prey to the big cats.

A month later
I find Cloud's family.

Both little fillies
have survived so far.

The family is close to
shaman's band --

a little too close
for Cloud's comfort.

As flint and bolder spar,

I note their growing strength,

but also their lack of interest
in striking out on their own.

Cloud tried to win a mare
at their age,

yet these two four-year-olds

seem happy to play at
being band stallions.

Late in the summer

I see Cloud's band,

and both little fillies.

I'm not sure if flint has

anything to do with
their survival.

But I am sure that
Mountain lions

are still killing foals.

And I think Cloud welcomes

flint's protective role
in the family.

The two robust colts
they watch that evening

both fall prey to the big cats.

Is Cloud allowing flint to stay

because he's grooming him

to become his
lieutenant stallion?

Flint guards the foals
from the rear.

Despite his attention,

the blue roan filly is taken by
a Mountain lion in the fall.

Compared to flint, bolder seems
like a shiftless playboy.

He spars with older bachelors,
easily holding his own.

Despite his athletic skills,

he returns to shaman
and his mother,

and I wonder why shaman
keeps him around.

Fall passes into winter,

and I get only distant glimpses
of the bands.

It's mid-may before I can get up
on the Mountain.

Late in the day,
I find shaman

driving the old stallion
"bigfoot" away.

I can see both shaman
and Cloud's bands.

But bolder is missing...

And so is flint!

They could be off
playing somewhere.

Then it hits me --

flint's mother, sitka,

is missing.

Cloud may have lost both

his lead mare and his lieutenant
at the same time.

Shaman has a little foal,

but Cloud's mares
don't look pregnant.

I'm certain sitka is dead,

and there will be no Cloud foals
this year.

I keep glassing,
looking for flint and bolder.

At sunset, I realize that
the young stallions

are finally on their own.

For some reason,
I don't know why,

I get up before dawn,

and without eating
or even brushing my teeth,

I begin to look for
Cloud's family.

It's velvet --
and she has a new baby.

I didn't even think
she was pregnant.

As quickly and quietly as I can,

I set up my camera.

Velvet didn't go off alone
to some secluded spot --

she had the foal
with her family.

She licks up the birth sac

to destroy the evidence
of a birth.

Mountain lions
are still prowling,

taking foals,
and even yearlings.

Velvet eats
the protein-rich afterbirth

while sitka's daughter watches,

and I wonder if
the loss of her mother

draws her to a new life.

When velvet lays down,

the baby uses her body
to support its wobbly legs.

His experienced mother
knows just what to do.

I can see he's a boy.

Velvet stands perfectly still

so the foal can have

his first milk,
called "colostrum."

It's a power drink,

high in antibodies that will
protect the foal from disease.

Velvet guards her newborn son.

Still, she allows Cloud
to sniff him.

What a beautiful buckskin.

A dusty-colored colt.

I'll call you "dusty."

As the hours pass,

dusty grows stronger
and stronger --

and more playful.

Late in the day
the family moves out,

and dusty makes
his first journey

to the very top of
his Mountain home.

May passes into June.

I return to see Cloud

streaking across the ridgeline
above the band.

And little dusty.

The colt has traded in
his wobbly legs for sturdy ones.

He watches his father
approaching bolder.

As a new bachelor,

he isn't intimidated
by Cloud --

maybe he isn't quite the loser
I once imagined.

Then I see flint coming.

When flint makes a playful rush
at bolder,

the palomino
responds aggressively.

As a new bachelor himself,
flint looks fit.

Cloud's little son, dusty,
is confident and strong.

Without another foal
to play with,

the curious colt
explores on his own.

The closest thing dusty has
to another foal

is his yearling sister,
firestorm.

And firestorm endures
the most attention.

He and his black sister

have an unusually
close relationship.

Never before or since

have I seen a sister
allow a foal to nurse her.

Even as a five-year-old,
she has never had a foal.

Maybe dusty is
some kind of substitute.

Like the black filly,

the grulla mare
hasn't foaled either.

As yearlings and two-year-olds,

both mares were darted with
infertility drugs

by the bureau of
land management.

Blm manages wild horses
on public lands,

and wants to keep
the populations low.

The drugs have worked
far longer than anticipated,

and although the mares
come in heat monthly

and are closely guarded
and bred by Cloud,

they never produce foals.

Even little dusty can smell

the pungent odors
of mares in heat.

The near-constant heat cycles
of the mares

may explain Cloud's belligerence
toward other stallions.

And with sitka dead,
Cloud is adrift.

In August, bolder discovers
a strange new addition

to the mountaintop,

just above
the spring-fed water hole.

The blm hopes to trap horses
in a corral

and then remove them
from the Mountain.

A bait trapper
has laced the enclosure

with protein blocks.

Cloud and dusty and the band
are nearing the trap site.

Cloud eyes the trailer warily,

but can smell something new
and wonderful inside the corral.

The trapper can trigger
the gate to close

from inside his trailer.

A noise from the trailer
spooks Cloud,

and the family bolts to freedom.

They move to the cool
of nearby trees,

where they spend the night.

This will become their pattern

over the next few days --

staying near the water hole

and the trap,
with its addictive treats.

Over the next few weeks,

100 horses are lured
to the trap site.

But horses aren't the only ones
to come here.

Two weeks later, when I return,

I learn what happened
from the trapper.

He told me that Mountain lions
had come around the water hole,

drawn to the abundance of prey
in one central location.

I find the tracks of
a Mountain lion kitten

he said was with its mother.

He said that the buckskin colt
with Cloud had been killed

just beyond the water hole,
and I begin to search.

The trapper told me that there
was a terrible storm

the night of dusty's death.

He said he could hear

the screams of
the Mountain lions,

and was too afraid
to leave his trailer.

I hope to find
something that remains

of Cloud and velvet's
beautiful son

who captured my heart.

I find one small bone

with the marrow
still fresh inside.

The long winter passes.

I can get nearly to
the mountaintop in mid-may.

To my surprise, I find shaman
alone on the ridges of Sykes.

He's appears to be
searching for his family.

I join in his search.

[ Horse whinnying ]

While hiking higher
on Sykes Ridge,

I hear a stallion scream
from an isolated island,

surrounded by cliffs.

I start glassing.

Hours pass, but something
tells me to keep looking.

Then I see a horse.

Bolder!

There are others with him,

and I assume they're bachelors.

But, no,
they're shaman's mares --

minus bolder's mother.

Amazing!

The young stallion waited until
his mother left the band.

Then he somehow

pulled off the theft of his
stepfather's entire family.

But the band can't hide out
on an isolated island forever.

When the snow melts here,

there will be only one place
to find water.

I fight through deep snows
to reach the mountaintop,

and what I see startles me.

Cloud is racing
back to his band,

and I fear something
has happened.

Following him is flint.

As a coming six-year old,

he looks determined
to win a mare.

The bay band stallion, Santa Fe,

is clearly interested in
a Cloud mare.

I sense Cloud's anxiety.

He's flanked by
two stallion challengers --

Santa Fe and flint.

A hunting coyote
holds no interest for Cloud.

He's focused on
defending his family,

and seems convinced that flint

is a legitimate threat.

As Cloud chases Santa Fe,

he runs the risk of flint
slipping in to steal the mares.

Is Cloud as shocked by
flint's behavior as I am?

They'd always been so close.

Cloud is frustrated that flint
won't stand and fight.

Flint can see down the valley,

where other band stallions
are being challenged.

But he's only
interested in one band.

The struggle goes on for days,

and I leave the Mountain
unsure of what might happen.

When I return at the end of may,
it feels nothing like spring.

In many ways it seems
colder than winter.

[ Calling ]

A male blue grouse
booms for a mate.

After days of searching,

I find Cloud's band in the sleet

in the company of
mule deer does.

Flint is nowhere to be seen,

and Cloud seems calm.

Then I see velvet
and a newborn foal.

Both mother and baby

are soaked.

I name the little filly "rain."

For days it sleets.

I search for flint...

And find bears, instead.

The mother bear gorges on
lush grass.

Suddenly, I hear hoof beats.

It's bolder and his family
coming up the Mountain.

He's immediately challenged by
older bachelors,

and I expect the worst.

But in a poised dash,
he backs them off.

Over a hundred horses converge
on the mountaintop,

and bolder will need to be
on his toes

to hang on to his new family.

Bolder confronts
the battle-tested dun stallion,

immediately asserting himself.

His darkening coat seems to
reflect a growing power.

A few hours later,

I see velvet and rain

cresting a far Ridge.

Flint too has returned to
the mountaintop.

As bolder looks on,

Cloud challenges flint.

Is flint still serious about
stealing Cloud's band...

Or does he just want to
come back home to his family?

Taking no chances,
Cloud pushes the band far away.

I wonder if Cloud
senses the strength

of the colt he raised.

Did he teach him too well?

Then I see shaman coming,

tracking his family

and the stepson
who stole them.

Bolder drives the family
away from shaman.

This is the first time
I've seen shaman retreat.

Bolder marks his territory,

as if setting a boundary line
around the band --

a warning sign
for shaman to stay away.

But he comes back.

Is shaman's passive behavior
part of his strategy?

He seems determined
to get his family back,

and begins to follow the band,
day after day.

The next morning I find Cloud
battling a former band stallion.

His daughter, firestorm,

watches as Cloud warns
the stallion

to get lost.

The two-year-old must be
in heat,

because she's drawing

bachelors and band stallions
into the limber pines.

Cloud warns another stallion
to go away.

He escorts firestorm
away from the stallions.

Then handsome Santa Fe enters,

joining the hopeful suitors.

Cloud watches his daughter,

but this time makes no move
to defend her.

Perhaps he approves of
the match?

Santa Fe gently courts
the filly.

Santa Fe invites firestorm
to join him,

and she follows.

Then Cloud dashes after them.

Santa Fe retreats...

And firestorm apologetically
returns to her family.

The band is moving toward
bolder and shaman.

Bolder drives shaman away,

only to have him come right back

as bigfoot referees
from the sidelines.

Not wanting to pass up
a good scuffle,

Cloud briefly joins the fray...

And then the situation explodes.

There is no doubt
who the winner is.

I'm awed by bolder's
speed and agility,

but sad for shaman.

Why hadn't he driven him off?

It seems a terrible mistake
made by one so wise.

Fall comes once again

to the top of
the arrowhead mountains.

I can see Cloud in the distance,

and in the limber pines,

Clark's nutcrackers collecting
their cache of pine nuts

for winter.

Pine squirrels, too,
are preparing for winter.

As the band heads to
the water hole,

I notice the grulla mare.

She's heavy with foal
at the wrong time of the year.

As a result of experimental
birth control drugs,

many young mares
are foaling out of season.

I hope this first-time mother
will foal soon,

before the temperature plummets.

In October, I return to find
the cliff edges

of the teacup bowl
already decorated with snow.

Cloud's fillies have roaned out,

and are growing
heavy winter coats.

Then I see the grulla mare's
new foal,

a sturdy little filly.

While most animals

are putting on fat for winter,

the spirited filly celebrates

as if spring were
just around the corner.

I name her "shadow,"

and hope she and her mother
can survive the winter to come.

I had no idea it would be
the worst in a decade.

By November, snow blankets
the mid-ridges of Sykes.

I get a glimpse of Cloud,
and what may be shadow,

playing in the blizzard.

Then the snow drives me
off the Mountain.

Months pass,
and one storm after another

batters the arrowheads.

I can't drive into the range,

so, in February,
I try another tactic.

My wild horse, trace,

seems happy to be
back home again.

We find a band
near the small lake

that feeds into
the bighorn river,

and coyotes hunting nearby.

With weather this bad,

I expect that many horses
will be down here in the desert.

Near the edge of
the bighorn canyon

we spot a group of
bighorn sheep.

They seem unperturbed
by a person on horseback.

Might Cloud be down here?

Or bolder? Or flint?

For five days we search.

I stop at overlooks and glass,

hoping to see
Cloud's large family.

Trace and I
drop into big coulee

and see tracks, but never
the horses that made them.

Strange, I think.

I wonder if Cloud is somewhere
other than Sykes,

but where?

In march, based on a tip,

I begin glassing
a totally new area

far to the west of Sykes Ridge.

Cloud.

But I can't see the foals.

I begin hiking the rugged area
we call the "hell'n gone."

I'm lucky to spot
firestorm and Cloud

on a distant, rocky slope.

Then I see the grulla mare
and little shadow.

When the mare gets up,
I see how terribly thin she is.

Shadow tries to nurse,

but her mother has no milk.

I sit with them
in the bitter cold

and pray they can survive.

The wintry weather
continues into April.

I find Cloud again
in the hell'n gone.

Snow clings to his
granddaughter's shaggy coat.

Where's shadow?

Rain is nursing velvet,

and as I pan my camera,

shadow walks in.

I wonder if she knows
how good it is to see her.

Her mother grazes between
velvet and Cloud.

I believe they'll all survive
to spring --

assuming spring comes this year.

May is wet and cold,

but I can again get up high
on Sykes.

It's bolder --

and his mares.

And a new foal.

The newborn grulla
is his first --

a little filly.

I saw bolder breed

the little filly's mother

when they were hiding out
on their isolated island,

almost a year ago.

The foal has shoulder bars,

a dorsal stripe,

bold leg stripes,

and two perfect back booties.

Quite a classic arrowhead foal.

At the end of may, it finally
feels as if spring has arrived.

I spot Cloud on tillet Ridge
above big coulee --

and what I see next
takes my breath away.

Like Cloud as a baby,

the new foal lying in the grass
is nearly white.

I have missed the birth
by only a few hours.

The foal seems disoriented,

as he totters to rain
instead of his mother.

His mother comes
to gently claim her baby.

This is Cloud and sitka's
grandson.

The colt's mother had been with
another stallion the year before

at the edge of the forest
atop the Mountain.

As Cloud carefully examines
the spot

where the colt had been born,

I wonder what he's thinking.

He's not the spitting image
of Cloud,

but close to it.

That's what I'll call him --
"image."

Another June comes to
the top of the arrowheads.

[ Barks ]

As Cloud and his family arrive,

I can't help but see
the cycle of generations

starting again.

From flint and bolder...

To shadow and image.

What begins as play

will set the stage
for what's to come.

But youth and strength
don't last forever.

Even shaman's greatness
has run its course.

The son he raised
has taken his place...

And may someday challenge Cloud.

Until then,
this is Cloud's time to reign.

And no matter his destiny,

I hope to be there

to share in the freedom
and wildness

of his Mountain home.

[ Whinnies ]

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