Original subtitles

- In one of the world's largest tropical wetlands,

life is driven by seasonal extremes.

At the peak of the dry season... (birds calls)

...romance is in the air.

Here, even humans are forced to follow the rhythms

of the Pantanal's seasons.

The Pantanal is home to over 650 species of birds.

(bird calls)

A brilliant kaleidoscope that comes in every

color, shape, and size.

They thrive in this immense wetland.

More than ten times larger than the Everglades,

the Pantanal lies in the heart of South America.

80% is covered in water in the rainy season.

Now at the peak of the dry season,

when fish and other aquatic animals are trapped

in the shallow pools and shrinking marshes,

thousands of birds congregate in this natural paradise...

...to breed and raise their young.

The royalty of the Pantanal are the jabiru.

The glorious wings of these magnificent storks

span up to ten feet.

This female jabiru is expecting her mate to return to the nest.

She's watching over three chicks

who are impatiently waiting to be fed.

The adults look alike, but the male is usually about

25% larger than the female.

The chicks are about a month old,

so now they are often left alone.

So day after day they sit exposed to the unrelenting sun,

and in the middle of the dry season,

they're always begging for water.

It'll be another two months before the chicks learn to fly.

About six more months before they're completely independent.

And they're keeping their parents busy.

(baby birds calls)

It's time for the main course.

Father jabiru regurgitates the dinner.

Eels.

(baby birds calls)

One of the jabiru's favorite foods.

Enough for the whole family.

The jabirus are raising their young on a tight schedule.

The rains will start in less than two months.

Flying and fishing skills take time to learn.

The adults hold their beaks at forty-five degrees,

just the right angle to skim the water's surface.

When they sense their prey, they quickly close their bill.

When they're three and a half months old,

the chicks will leave the safety of the nest

and have to hunt for themselves.

With their parents help, the chicks will master both

fishing and flying before the heavy rains

of the monsoon season turn this savannah

back into a vast wetland.

But for now, these lowlands are a hotbed of activity

for the diverse bird population of the Pantanal.

Even at its driest, this area still has ponds and marshes,

and a river flowing through it.

And that's why the very rare hyacinth macaws have picked

this spot to breed.

Over three feet long from the top of its head to the tip of

its tail, the hyacinth macaw is the largest of all the parrots.

But it's not too large to squeeze through a narrow

opening into a safe and cozy home.

(bird calls)

Over 90% of hyacinth macaw nests

are found inside the hollows of manduvi trees.

The soft wood of the tree's trunk allows the macaws

to dig out a roomy shelter.

Macaws lay a clutch of two or three eggs once a year.

When the eggs hatch, the competition for food will be

so fierce only one hatchling is likely to survive.

(macaws calls)

While the female incubates the eggs,

the male is in charge of bringing her food and water.

(macaw calls)

A small pond is just a few steps away.

Although they do drink water, they get most of the moisture

they need from the food they eat.

One of the hyacinth macaw's favorite foods

is the acuri palm fruit.

Inside is a tasty nut,

but it's got a hard shell that's tough to crack.

Macaws have an easier way to get at it.

Cattle are also fond of the acuri fruits.

Once they swallow the fruits, their multi-chambered stomach

does the rest, breaking down the hard inner shell

that contains the nut.

Finding the nuts is a simple scavenger hunt for the macaws.

The best breeding spot for the birds of the Pantanal

happens to be on a 25,000 acre cattle ranch.

The Nelore is a hardy, heat tolerant breed

similar to the Brahman and the Zebu,

and was imported from India about two hundred years ago.

They've been grazing on the native grasses of the Pantanal

ever since.

While the dry season is a time for the birds to stay put

and focus on breeding, it's a time for the cattle to move.

(screaming)

Just like the birds and other local wildlife,

the cattle and the ranchers have learned to adapt

to the drastic seasonal changes of the region.

The cattle have eaten most of the grass in their pasture

and they need to move before the rainy season brings the floods.

The cowboys drive the herd to a fresh pasture on higher ground.

It'll take ten cowboys three days to move

the one thousand head of cattle across

twenty-five miles of wetland and savannah.

(screaming)

In just a few weeks, with the return of the rains,

much of this land will be underwater.

Then fish rather than cattle will travel over the grasslands.

Most of the birds will leave as the fish disperse

over a wide area and become hard to find.

Here, in bird paradise, there are no deep and dark forests.

Only small clusters of tropical trees growing out of the water.

This is a tree island.

It began its life as a small watery patch

of dense vegetation, and over time grew bigger and bigger,

until a few trees took root and eventually formed an island.

Now it is a lush sanctuary for several species of birds.

(forest sounds)

This island is home to the noisiest birds

in the Pantanal...

(bird calls)

...the chaco chachalaca.

Some call them the samba birds, after their sing-song calls.

The cattle ranchers call them

the "alarm clocks of the Pantanal!"

(bird calls)

They start at dawn and don't stop screeching until sundown.

(squawking)

The squawking stops just long enough for the chaco chachalaca

to take a bite of a juicy fig.

Their bad reputation isn't just for making a racket,

it also includes a more serious crime.

They're guilty of killing palm trees.

After the chaco chachalaca has digested the figs,

some of the seeds carried in its feces fall

onto the upper branches of a palm tree,

where there's a lot more sunlight

than in the dark forest below.

When the seeds germinate, they don't only grow up,

they also grow down.

The vines that sprout from the fig seeds wrap around

the trunk of the palm,

spiral down to the forest floor,

and take root in the moist, fertile soil.

Over the years, the vines thicken and strengthen,

wrapping the palm in a parasitic strangle hold,

and never let go.

It can take decades, even a century,

for a strangler fig to kill a mature palm tree.

This acuri palm fell victim to a strangler vine many years ago.

Its days are numbered, but it's still producing acuri fruits,

the much-loved food of the hyacinth macaw.

While some macaws scavenge cattle dung

for partially digested acuri fruits,

others collect them directly from the bunches hanging on the trees.

But it's a lot more work.

Their sharp beaks and powerful jaw muscles open

the tough fruits and crack the inner shells.

Their unusual tongue, reinforced with a hook shaped bone,

scoops out the nut.

If a tough or slippery fruit won't open,

the clever macaw has a tool for that.

Sometimes they'll use a green leaf to act as a wedge

to keep the fruit from moving.

And if that doesn't work,

it's back to the toolbox for another tool.

This time it's a sliver of wood that stops it from slipping.

Success!

This pair of macaws is also responding

to the call of the breeding season.

They have a nest nearby, but have yet to produce any eggs.

They're in no rush, courtship seems just as much fun.

Hyacinth macaws mate for life.

Their courtship rituals, preening and feeding each other,

help these birds reinforce their bond.

Back at the marsh, another loyal couple is hard at work.

Alone in the nest, the jabiru chicks are thirsty and hungry.

But when the father jabiru comes home with a beak full of sticks

and twigs, the chicks are disappointed.

There's no water or tasty eels in his pouch on this trip.

All the coming and going takes its toll on the nest

so repairs are necessary.

The nest is critical to the chicks' survival.

The mother jabiru takes care of the construction

using materials provided by the father.

Because of their size, adult jabirus can defend

themselves, but their chicks are vulnerable.

The nest protects them from the most dangerous predators below,

but they're still exposed to predators coming

from above

like this crested caracara, the key scavenger of the Pantanal.

Caracara won't tangle with an adult jabiru.

It prefers easier targets

like the chicks.

The cautious mother takes no chances

and shelters her young under her wings.

This jabiru family have built their nest

on some prime real estate...

...at the top of a tall tree.

The few bare branches are strong enough

to support the family and their home,

and there's plenty of room for their big wings.

In other regions of the Pantanal,

perches like this are few and far between,

but here there's enough

to accommodate many jabiru families.

In a nest nearby, four juveniles about twelve weeks old

look like they're ready to begin flying lessons.

The parents leave them alone for longer and longer periods.

With their large, sharp beaks,

they're old enough to defend themselves,

or at least signal danger by clacking their beaks loudly

in alarm.

Their parents have worked on their nest for quite a while.

It's become so big, several families of monk parakeets

have moved into the basement apartment.

They are year-round tenants.

When the rainy season comes, the monk parakeets stay put,

while the jabiru adults and their young rejoin their flocks

and spread out across the lowlands of the Pantanal.

The cattle also need to move...

...to greener pastures above the reach of the floods

when the monsoon rains come.

The cowboys move along at the herd's natural pace.

They don't want the beef cattle to burn too many calories

and lose weight.

Cattle have panoramic vision,

which means they can see everything around them except

what's directly behind them.

So the cowboys and their dogs drive them from the rear...

...and nudge the strays back into the herd.

The pastures they've left behind are depleted.

The ranchers set fire to the dry fields

to prepare for the fast approaching rainy season

and stimulate new growth

for the next season.

Burning the pastures is a two centuries old tradition.

And for the predators and scavengers,

the flames bring new opportunity.

A savannah hawk scans the smoky landscape for prey.

Small animals trying to escape the heat and flames

risk running straight into an ambush.

If the hawk doesn't strike from the air,

its cousin, the caracara, will intercept on the ground.

The caracara is a falcon.

Unlike most falcons, however, the caracara is not a fast-flying predator.

It's an opportunist, hunting and scavenging in a variety of ways.

Because it's small and light, it patrols the grasslands

by flying much lower than other scavengers.

On the ground it searches for small prey and carrion.

This caracara is lucky.

It found this carcass before the vultures.

Once they land, they're quick to take over.

Back at the nesting site, another jabiru family

is raising its young.

Jabirus don't build their nests in large colonies,

but you'll often find a few nests in close proximity

because of the trees they choose.

This female still keeps a close eye on her two chicks,

although they're almost ready to fledge.

Even once they can fly, it'll be many more weeks

before these teenagers are truly independent.

The parents are busy working overtime

making more and more trips to the ponds and marshes

to keep them supplied with food.

The shallow water in this pond makes it a popular spot to fish.

The jabiru stork has an advantage over the other birds

that gather here.

A giant inflatable pouch for carrying food and water.

The water is shallow but it's murky.

Catching a fish you can't see takes a lot of patience and skill.

The jabiru have plenty of both.

With their long legs, they wade along the edges.

The tip of their beak is sensitive

and they find their prey by feel.

They know there's plenty of tasty little fish

and other animals hiding in the mud.

With water levels so low at this time of year,

the fish have to come to the surface for oxygen.

Some prey, like this giant snail, are too much work.

Others take a little more work, but are worth the effort.

It takes a little while, but the adults eventually manage

to fill up their pouches.

They scoop up water and food in one gulp.

And carry the whole load back to their nests.

At the nest, the fledglings patiently wait

for the male to return with the goods

while the female stands guard.

And when a caracara flies too close...

...the mother acts as a decoy

and tries to lure it away from her chicks.

Scavengers rarely prey on large birds like the storks,

especially not the jabiru,

but this mother is taking no chances.

(bird calls)

The black collared hawk is another bird of prey

that calls the Pantanal home.

From his perch, he scans the river for any signs of fish.

His sharp talons are perfect for grabbing

and holding onto his prey.

But fishing takes a lot of skill...

...or a little luck.

If at first you don't succeed, try again.

His perseverance is rewarded with some easy pickings:

fish that probably died from a lack of oxygen.

During hard times, the black collared hawk might feed

on water bugs or rodents,

but there's no need today.

Although the abundance of fish in this area makes it

a perfect breeding place for birds,

not all birds come here to fish

and not all birds will leave at the end of the breeding season.

The red ovenbird is a year round resident that eats insects.

He's also an expert architect.

He collects mud and straw to build his nest.

This nest is now home to three chicks.

It's oven-like shape keeps the heat in.

It acts like an incubator and allows the parent

to have more time to forage.

Lunch is whatever insect comes by.

This one goes down the hatch.

This one she brings home.

(squealing)

She quarrels with unwelcome visitors.

This is private property and the red ovenbird is particular

about territory.

Now it's back to hunting.

(baby birds calls)

This non-stop pick-up and delivery service will go on

for about three weeks.

After that, the fledglings will be expected to do their own shopping.

For now, they're at the mercy of their hard working parents.

This yellow-headed caracara,

a cousin of the southern crested caracara,

can't believe its good fortune:

three small hatchlings with no parental supervision.

They would make an easy meal compared to the ticks

that are usually on its menu!

(squealing)

The mother spots the intruder from afar and screeches.

(squealing)

It was a close call,

and there'll probably be many more this season.

Even in the dry season, there are still a few places

where trees are in bloom and fruits are ripe for the picking.

The streams and rivers team with fish

and the banks are flush with aquatic plants and insects.

And hundreds of thousands of birds.

It's a glorious banquet table set for one of the world's most ancient predators:

the caiman.

The smaller cousin of the alligator and the crocodile.

By some estimates, over ten million caimans live

and hunt in the wetlands of the Pantanal.

The largest caiman population on the planet.

Birds and crocodiles are distant cousins.

Caimans evolved from the same group that gave rise

to dinosaurs and birds.

Caimans are nocturnal, and during the day

these reptiles mostly just bask in the sun.

Those are impressive looking teeth,

but caimans hunt in water not on land.

Their open mouths help them regulate their body temperature.

The caiman has spotted a white egret hunting for fish.

The egret scans the water.

It's so focused on catching its own lunch

it hasn't noticed the stealthy caiman.

A splash spooks the egret just in time.

Back on land, the cowboys and their cattle are approaching

the end of their long journey.

The grass is getting better with every step

towards the higher pasture.

But the good food comes too late for some.

One animal fell sick and died, and was left behind...

...to the delight of this flock of vultures.

Unlike most vultures, black vultures don't have

a great sense of smell

so one of them must have spotted it from the air.

The good news is they've got it all to themselves.

The bad news is, there are no caracara here

to slice open the cow's thick hide.

Vultures depend on the smaller caracaras' formidable talons

and beaks to do the carving for them.

Although the vultures look tough,

their feet are weaker than other raptors

and their beaks are not as curved,

so they start with the soft parts.

Vultures rely on one another to find dead animals,

and wherever there is one,

there are soon many squabbling over the banquet.

There is a hierarchy at dinnertime.

The younger ones are always the last to dine,

although a dominant bird sometimes has to re-assert

its position.

Back at the jabiru's nest

there's trouble in bird paradise.

The steely-eyed caracara looks like it's just taking a stroll,

but it's hard at work, foraging.

High above, there are only two chicks in the jabiru nest,

but there should be three.

This jabiru chick probably fell out of the nest.

(squealing)

This is the harsh reality all jabiru parents live

with every breeding season.

They lay between three and five eggs,

but even the hardest working, most protective

and diligent parents often lose one or two chicks.

Twenty-eight miles away, the herd, with one less cow,

finally reaches the new pasture.

There's enough fresh grass to feed the entire herd

until the end of the wet season .

It's getting late. The sun's low on the horizon

and it's time for the cook to earn his pay.

While the herd settles down for the night,

the cowboys gather around the fire for dinner.

At home or in the field, the cowboys follow the rhythms

of the Pantanal: up at dawn and to bed at sunset.

It's a traditional way of life,

like this dinner of "arroz carreteiro",

or "wagon rider's rice"...

a mixture of rice, beef, peppers and onions,

shared with a visitor.

When night begins to fall, they sling their hammocks,

rig the mosquito nets,

and wash the pots and pans, ready for the next day.

Down in the lowlands, a large flock of black ibis

returns to its dormitory and settles in for the night.

In a few more weeks, the winds will bring dark clouds,

heavy with rain, to empty their load over the southwestern tip

of the Pantanal.

The breeding season will be over until next year,

when the water recedes and nature signals that it is time

to start again in bird paradise.

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