All language subtitles for Wild.Tokyo.2021.1080p.WEBRip.x264-RARBG.eng

It's the biggest
metropolis on Earth.

Nearly 14 million people
live here

in a city that never sleeps.

There's delicious street food...

...and a buzzing nightlife.

You're unlikely to be mugged,

and theft is rarely a problem.

Welcome to the world's
favorite capital,

where good etiquette
is always observed...

...and where humans
are only half the story.

From its humble origins
on Japan's east coast,

Tokyo has seen a few changes.

Once a small fishing village,

it has grown relentlessly

into one of the world's busiest

and most technologically
advanced mega cities.

Now a powerhouse of industry
and commerce,

it's better known for
its wild nightlife

than its wild animals.

But look beyond
the bright lights,

and it's apparent that Tokyo
also moves

to a different beat...

...a natural life cycle
that begins each spring

with an iconic spectacle.

Cherry blossom, or Sakura,
is a national obsession.

But as well as
lifting people's spirits,

it's also a bittersweet
reminder.

For more than 1,000 years
the short-lived petals

have prompted the Japanese
to reflect

on the fleeting beauty of life

and to make the most
of the time they have.

Life comes in many forms
in Tokyo.

Most people, though, are
probably unaware

of the animals
living in their midst.

A distant relative of the fox,

the tanuki
is a type of Asian wild dog.

Japanese folktales are filled
with these shadowy creatures.

They typically appear
as mischievous shape-shifters

that love to trick humans.

In Tokyo, tanuki often make
their homes in storm drains

next to railway lines

and use the tracks
to roam the neighborhood.

So long as they stay
out of sight,

the city is a reasonably
safe place

for tanuki parents
to raise their cubs.

There's really just
one serious hazard.

Tanuki aren't renowned
for their speed,

but they've got
a keen sense of smell

and a dogged determination when
it comes to seeking out food.

The local shrine is always
worth a visit.

Shinto shrines are places
where people pay their respects

to the spirits,
with offerings of food and sake.

But this one is guarded by
a pair of fierce-looking foxes.

In their earthly form,
foxes are known to kill tanuki.

Perhaps on this occasion,

she should show some respect.

Around the corner, dad is
rummaging for a little treat

to take back to the kids.

The cubs will soon be able
to forage for themselves.

But first they need to learn
how to cross the tracks safely.

After their snack,
they're ready for a lesson.

If they've got any sense,
they'll pay attention.

Their lives may depend on it.

Four of the cubs have made it.

But one has got distracted

and is lagging
dangerously behind.

Tonight the spirits
have been kind.

To survive in a city like Tokyo,

animals need more than just
a guardian angel.

Food might be plentiful,

but obtaining it requires
a bit of know-how.

With teams of street cleaners
working hard

to keep the place spotless,

life can be quite a challenge

for the city's
non-human residents,

many of whom rely
on our wastefulness.

To grab some takeaway
before it's taken away,

large-billed crows have to stay

one step ahead
of the waste collectors.

Their window of opportunity
is brief.

Pickings are especially rich
after a Friday night,

when Tokyo's restaurants
have been busy.

Saturday mornings can even
bring the occasional steak.

With half an eye
on the rubbish trucks,

the street-wise birds know
pretty much to the second

when their time is up.

The crow's resourcefulness
isn't limited to getting food.

Spring is a time
for buildings nests

with whatever materials
you can scavenge.

For lateral thinkers
like crows,

the city offers
intriguing new possibilities.

Clothes hangers don't just mesh
nicely with traditional twigs,

they also add a touch
of pop-art flair

to your downtown apartment.

Ever since it became
Japan's capital in 1869,

Tokyo has been spreading.

Now almost 100 kilometers
across,

it's a vast amalgamation
of over 50 towns and cities.

And yet somehow it contains
a wealth of animal life.

One of the keys to this paradox

is something
distinctively Japanese.

Shinto, the way of the Gods,

is the original faith
of the Japanese people

and is as old as Japan itself.

It's based on a belief
in sacred spirits, or kami,

which can often take the form
of plants or animals.

That's why Shinto shrines are
always associated with trees.

Throughout Tokyo,
hundreds of small shrines

provide important habitat
for animals.

But the largest by far is
the Meiji Jingu Shrine,

right in the heart of the city.

Created in 1920 to venerate

Emperor Meiji and his wife,
Empress Shoken,

it involved the planting
of 100,000 trees

donated from all over Japan.

A century on, and this
self-sustaining forest

is now a quilt of over 230
different tree species.

The shrine attracts a constant
stream of visitors,

who come to ask for good fortune

alongside the priests
who worship here.

But all this human activity
is kept within narrow limits.

The 70-hectare sacred forest
that surrounds the shrine

is restricted access only.

And away from the crowds,
nature is left undisturbed.

As well as sheltering
woodland birds,

this thriving oasis is a haven
for countless insects,

rat-hunting snakes,

and an obscure pond dweller...

...the softshell turtle.

For sheer beauty,
there's surely no contest.

Its wing covers have been used
to make necklaces and dresses

and even to decorate
a royal palace.

Such is the allure
of the Japanese jewel beetle.

Beyond the sacred forest,
new kinds of green space

are popping up in the city.

Farms were once cleared
to make way for skyscrapers.

Now they're becoming part
of the urban fabric.

As well as providing food
and cooling the building

on which it sits,

this rooftop rice field
in Central Tokyo

is giving city kids a chance
to connect with nature.

Just like a traditional
paddy field,

this high-rise version
is teeming with frogs

that were brought here
in the soil.

Every spring,
farmers show the children

how to plant the rice seedlings.

Four months from now,
these budding urban farmers

will be back
to harvest what they've sown.

In Tokyo, space is at a premium,

which can leave many animals
without a home.

Along most of Tokyo's
waterfront,

factories, roads, and runways
have replaced natural beaches...

...and squeezed out
much of the wildlife.

Dr. Kitamura, who heads
up Tokyo's Little Tern Project,

is trying to ensure
that these endearing birds

still have enough space
to breed.

To give them a fighting chance,

volunteers have built
a six-hectare substitute beach

on the roof of a sewage works.

Building a beach
was just the start.

Now every spring
Dr. Kitamura and his team

have to persuade the birds
to use it,

and that requires
a bit of trickery.

Guided by master
craftsman Haruo Uchiyama,

the children play their part

by making dozens
of lookalike little terns.

The finished decoys are
scattered across the roof,

and to complete the illusion
of a busy colony,

a large speaker plays
the sound of chattering terns.

Primitive though it is,
the birds fall for it.

Every year, up to 1,000 terns

are now choosing the roof
of the Morigasaki Sewage Works

as their breeding ground.

Flying in from Australia
and New Zealand,

some of these visitors
have already racked up

more than 8,000 kilometers.

Males and females share the job
of incubating eggs,

which takes about three weeks.

Within a month, the rooftop
is alive with tiny chicks.

But this noisy nursery
is no playground.

Birds that nest on beaches,
natural or man-made,

are vulnerable
to sharp-eyed predators.

And with a brood
of its own to feed,

a kestrel has its sight set
on a baby tern.

No amount of mobbing
can deter the predator.

Day after day,
the hunting kestrel returns.

Having learnt
from previous years,

Dr. Kitamura and his team

now cover the rooftop
with little refuges.

The faster a chick finds cover,

the more likely
it is to survive.

Three weeks is all it needs.

As long the adults
keep bringing back food,

the young terns
will soon be big enough to fly.

Giving them space to breed is
undoubtedly helping the terns.

Although some will struggle,
others will fledge successfully

and follow their parents
out to sea.

Although little of Tokyo's
original shoreline is left,

the waters beyond
are still untamed.

And you might be surprised
at what's beneath the surface.

Whale sharks, the biggest fish
on the planet,

are regular visitors.

Few people alive
know these depths

better than Hiroyuki Arakawa.

Fascinated by the ocean
since he was a boy,

he claims to have spent
more than three years

of his life underwater.

Nowadays, Mr. Arakawa's
main concern

is for those who earn
their living from the sea,

especially hard-up fishermen.

Tokyo Bay is known
for its deadly storms.

Over the years, Mr. Arakawa
has helped to recover

more than 100
drowned men and women.

Whilst he can pray
for lost souls

at his local Ahinto temple,

Mr. Arakawa wanted to do more.

So, with the blessing
of the priest,

he's built an additional shrine.

It's not exactly on Google Maps.

Hidden some 20 meters
below the waves,

it receives only
the most dedicated visitors.

Twice a month,
dressed as a priest,

Mr. Arakawa drops in

to make a ritual offering
to the water gods.

Everyone seems to be keeping
a close eye

on the strange,
bubbling apparition.

Perhaps the fish have learnt to
associate Mr. Arakawa with food.

His offerings of rice
and fresh eggs

certainly appear to be popular.

What the fish make of his sake
is anyone's guess.

Before he surfaces, Mr. Arakawa

prays for the safety
of all those who go to sea.

Aside from facing storms,

fishermen in Tokyo Bay
have also been wrestling

with an unusual shark problem.

It's a problem that
dive operator Kan Shiota

knows all about.

As they thrash about,

trapped sharks damage
valuable fish like flounder,

which then go to waste.

Some frustrated fishermen were
starting to mutilate the sharks,

which is when Mr. Shiota was
approached with a novel request.

Using the fishermen's
unwanted catch,

Mr. Shiota set up
a shark-feeding station.

Before long, it was attracting
not just sharks,

but shark enthusiasts.

Believe it or not, there are
people willing to pay good money

to get nibbled by sharks.

The feeding station is located
just offshore,

well away from
the fishermen's nets.

The sharks that you're most
likely to encounter here

are banded houndsharks.

Typically, this shallow-water
species is nocturnal

and solitary.

But since they're fed
twice a day,

the sharks tend to hang around.

And encouraged by
regular handouts,

they've learnt to trust humans.

Known as the shark scramble,

this mass gathering
has to be one of Tokyo's

most amazing
wildlife spectacles.

The sharks are joined
by grouper...

...stingrays...

...sea bream...

...and a whole host
of smaller fish.

Despite physical contact,

no shark or stingray has ever
harmed Mr. Shiota or his guests.

Just as importantly, though,

the sharks are no longer
a problem to the fishermen.

Not long ago, hundreds of
these amazing creatures

were being netted,

and some even suffered
the removal of their fins.

Today, the number of entangled
sharks is virtually zero.

Summers in Tokyo can be noisy
as well as hot.

Most animals would probably
prefer a quieter spot,

away from the crowds.

Yet the evening shoppers
in Shibuya are not alone.

Strange creatures are emerging
from the earth

right in the middle of the city.

Slow and ungainly,
they are still only half-formed.

To become the finished article,

these cicadas are about
to cast off their old outfits

and get a whole new look.

For the past five years,

they've been
biding their time underground,

sucking nutrients from the roots
of ornamental trees.

Instinctively, the cicada larvae
now start to climb.

By emerging at night,
the insects are safe from birds.

It now begins its fifth
and final molt.

Free from its old
straight-jacket,

the newly hatched adult prepares
for life in the open air.

Its wings, unfurled
and ready for use,

will help it to evade predators.

But with only a few weeks
to live,

it has little time
to find a mate.

It's no wonder cicadas
make such a racket.

Nearby in the grounds
of a Buddhist Temple,

the stage is set for
a more gruesome drama.

Death is something
we must all accept,

no matter who or what we are.

Jumping spiders hunt insects

and kill them
with a venomous bite.

But even with eyes
in the back of its head,

it isn't safe
from larger assassins.

Enter the gecko...

...a carnivorous lizard
with a taste for spiders.

Geckos are like
mini superheroes.

They leap off buildings

and walk up walls.

And to escape the clutches
of a predator,

it can shed its tail
and grow a new one.

Yet even this little ninja
is not immortal.

Next up, the praying mantis.

It is more than
10 centimeters long,

and its lethal moves
have inspired a martial art form

known as Praying Mantis Kung Fu.

Impaled on the insect's legs,

the gecko succumbs
to a grisly fate.

The mantis won't need to dine
for another month.

But to stay alive, this killer,
too, needs to watch its back

and steer well clear
of the temple toad.

For humans at least,

Tokyo's streets
are blissfully safe.

Even petty crimes like theft
are extremely rare,

unless, that is, you happen
to live on the edge of town.

In certain suburbs, there are
gangs that specialize

in daylight robbery.

Japanese macaques might look
adorable,

but as any vegetable grower
will tell you,

they're a menace.

The raiding party includes
adults of both sexes.

Each knows its place
in the hierarchy...

...all the way up to the alpha
male at the top of the tree.

Once his troop is safely
across the road,

the boss scopes out
the lay of the land.

His peanut snatchers need
to keep their wits about them.

Several of these repeat
offenders have been tagged

to help the authorities
keep them under surveillance.

Dodging the monkey police
is only the first step.

To get the goodies, they must
also outsmart the farmers.

Simple nets are easily bypassed,

prompting some growers
into more fancy countermeasures.

10,000 volts normally
does the trick,

but any chink in your defenses,
and sooner or later...

it's vegetable carnage.

To make matters worse,

their eating habits
are an insult.

While monkeys are
roundly resented,

there are other animals here
that are welcomed like royalty.

Not long ago,
the Japanese goshawk

was on the endangered list.

But after years of protection,
this fearless hunter,

once a favorite
of Japan's emperors,

is starting to
recolonize city parks.

To stay healthy, a young goshawk
needs a meal a day,

and it's the father,
smaller and more agile

than his partner,
who does most of the hunting.

As hard as he works, though,

the youngest chick
often loses out.

Ten days later and now
in her juvenile plumage,

the baby of the brood
leaves the nest

to try her luck elsewhere.

Still unable to fly, she has
a whole new world to explore...

...on foot.

Each year brings its own
goshawk drama...

...and this year
is no exception.

In a potentially devastating
development,

dad has gone missing.

The mother now faces
the formidable task

of raising her family alone.

And the crows are determined
to make her fail.

They sometimes lose
their own chicks to goshawks,

so when they spot
a weakness in their enemy,

they are quick
to take advantage.

By joining forces
to harass the mother,

they can prevent her hunting.

If the crows keep this up,

it won't be long before
the young hawks starve to death.

A week later, and the three
siblings are still alive.

But their mother isn't managing
to bring back enough

to feed them all.

With each passing day,

the youngest chick
is losing strength.

If a meal arrives,

it's always one of
the older chicks who hogs it.

Survival favors the selfish.

Sometimes, however,
it can also favor the brave.

The crows have returned...

...probing for a chance
to inflict more damage

while the chicks are unguarded.

With little hope of being fed
by its mother,

the youngest hawk does something
truly astonishing.

None of these seasoned observers

has ever seen a young goshawk
attack a full-grown crow.

In the end, though, size
and strength are decisive.

It's the crow,
battered and dazed,

who escapes with its life

while the hawk,
exhausted from her efforts,

slips closer to starvation.

Yet, amidst this tragedy,
there is also hope.

The eldest chick,
well-fed by its mother,

is soon strong enough
to hunt for itself.

And there is every reason
to think

that these charismatic birds
are here to stay.

It's not only goshawks
that are making a comeback.

The Tamagawa is one of
the two main rivers

that flows through Tokyo.

Barely a generation ago,
factories and homes

were dumping so much waste
into the water

that it was known
as "the river of death."

But with tougher laws
and better management,

the Tamagawa
has been transformed.

Pacific redfin spend
most of their lives at sea.

But to breed, they need clean,
fast-flowing water.

And now that they have it,
they're coming back

in their thousands.

Unfortunately for the fish,

news of their return
appears to have spread.

Cormorants are looking
for an easy meal.

Because they spawn
in shallow water,

the redfin have nowhere to hide.

It's like shooting fish
in a barrel.

As well as redfin,

carp and eel
are also on the menu.

This one-time sewage outflow

is now home to around 60 species
of freshwater fish.

All this diversity within
the city is impressive.

But to find Tokyo's
wildest side,

you must follow the Tamagawa
westwards into the mountains.

Although sparsely populated,

these mountains are an integral
part of the metropolis.

The forest acts like
a giant sponge,

soaking up
and then releasing moisture.

The streams eventually empty
into a deep lake,

which supplies Tokyo with
over a fifth of its fresh water.

But as well as quenching
the city's thirst,

the forest also provides
a home for wild animals.

And if anything, Tokyo's wild
west end is getting wilder.

As their children move out
to find work in the city,

older residents can only wonder
as nature moves back in.

For the inquisitive,

abandoned houses
are an irresistible temptation.

So too are any
long-forgotten orchards.

By November,
persimmons are plentiful,

and the brazen monkeys are
the first to help themselves.

It's soon apparent, however,

that the fruits aren't quite
as juicy as they look.

Still loaded with tannins,

they leave a bitter taste
in the mouth.

A couple of bites is about
all she can stomach.

Fortunately, the macaques'
throwaway habits

are a gift to other animals.

Biting the fruit leaves
the flesh exposed,

which speeds up
the ripening process.

Persimmons are packed
with glucose,

and the longer they sit on the
ground, the sweeter they become.

With winter approaching,
tanuki are looking to fatten up.

They can put on several
extra kilos.

And they're not the only ones
with a sweet tooth.

A badger has emerged
from its den to join the feast.

And although they're small,

Japanese martens are more than
ready to scrap for their share.

It's not long before
the sugary treats

are catching the attention
of an altogether bigger beast...

...a moon bear.

Also known as
an Asian black bear,

this rare and secretive animal

is Tokyo's largest
wild inhabitant.

Smaller creatures like civets
must wait their turn.

They don't have to wait long.

Despite their size,
bears are easily spooked.

A passing car is enough
to send the trespasser

hurrying back to the woods.

If Tokyo's life cycle begins
with cherry blossom,

then it ends in equally
spectacular fashion...

...with a blaze
of autumn foliage.

Koyo, as it's known here,
is nature's final flourish.

Within a month, many of Tokyo's
plants and animals

will be going into
a three-month winter lockdown.

To the casual eye,
Tokyo is all about us.

But look beyond the crowds,

and you'll find a surprising
range of wild animals

thriving in the gaps.

It's a parallel world
of vicious assassins,

gentle giants...

...and clever thieves...

...of strange transformers...

...hardworking parents...

...and living jewels.

It's a world in which humans
are only part of the picture.

And that is a thing
to celebrate.