All language subtitles for Prowlers of the Everglades (1953) DVDrip x265 AC3-MarkW.en

NARRATOR: From the mainland
of North America,

the Florida Peninsula
stretches 400 miles southward,

reaching almost
to the tropics.

At its farthest tip
lie the Everglades,

3,000 square miles
of primitive swampland.

Deep in this water wilderness
lives a primeval reptile
the Spaniards called

el lagarto, the lizard.

We know him as the alligator.

He's a creature
whose way of life
has continued unchanged

for thousands of centuries.

This is the swamp
that time forgot,

and our True-Life Adventure
is a chapter
out of the prehistoric past.

(BIRD HOOTING)

(BIRD TRILLING)

In this strange setting,

primitive creatures feed
and breed and stalk their prey

just as they did
millions of years ago.

And always, somewhere
behind the curtain of mist,

the alligator lies in wait.

With each new day,
the hunters and the hunted

renew the ancient pattern
of existence.

Even the innocent-looking
spiderwebs are more
than mere decoration.

Wherever the eye focuses,
these subtle snares
invite the unwary.

(CAWING)

With the coming of dawn,
the birds descend
on these ponds,

drawn by the abundance
of fish.

For the hungry birds,
good living is good fishing,

and no fish is too tiny
to be included
in somebody's breakfast.

Few are overlooked
by these feathered fishermen

so sharp of eye and bill.

Spear fishing is a fine art.

But here's a bird
who couldn't spear a fish
if he tried.

Still, everyone
to his own technique,

and the spoonbill
has his own methods
of getting food,

all the while
keeping an eye out for
the unpredictable alligator.

The wood ibis
seems to shade the water
with his wings

so he can see the bottom,
then stirs up minnows
with his feet.

To satisfy larger appetites,
these pools teem with garfish,

a species surviving
from prehistoric times.

Mostly bones and scales,
they grow
to considerable size.

The cormorant
is another expert

who never seems
to get his fill.

Sometimes he swallows
so many fish

the extra ballast
spoils his take off.

A cooling bath
is more than welcome,

and the little grebe enjoys
her morning dip thoroughly.

The swallows take their plunge
on the wing,

satisfied with a splash
and a sprinkle,

while the snakebird
dives right in.

He's named
for his habit of swimming

with only
his serpent-like neck
out of the water.

Oddly enough, his wings
become so saturated

that he literally
hangs them out to dry.

The snakebird
is sometimes called
the water turkey

because of his barred tail.

He's one of the swamp's
strangest inhabitants.

Of all the birds, he bears
the closest resemblance

to those prehistoric reptiles
who were the first creatures
to fly.

And in babyhood,
this similarity
is even more pronounced.

(CAWING)

By the time
appetites are satisfied,
the morning mist has vanished.

The birds
know better than to relax
their vigilance, however.

They stay on the alert,
even while they preen
their fine feathers.

Experience has taught them
to pay special attention

to the thick beds
of water lilies,

and for good reason.

The silent prowler
of the Everglades.

He's a stealthy hunter,

and leaves neither wake
nor trail of bubbles.

The moment he appears,
the prehistoric past
enters the present.

The garfish leap
for their lives,

but an alligator
in their midst is
like a wolf in a sheepfold.

Others join the feast.
Gators of all sizes.

Some grow to be
over 20 feet in length.

But in this hectic
competition for food,

the smaller alligators
are often more vicious
than the larger ones.

(CAWING)

These insatiable creatures
eat anything they can capture.

They have an amazing
digestive system.

Their stomach acids
dissolve everything.

Fish bones, fur, feathers,
even a turtle shell.

Small wonder they're
the scourge of the swamp.

The other creatures
of the Everglades

have lived
with this monster so long

they've become
accustomed to his presence.

And they sometimes
seem to tease him

by perching
mere inches from his nose.

The tiny grebe
can even be so nonchalant

as to paddle with one foot
as she looks death
in the face.

Quite casually,
the wading birds
fish in the danger zone,

in spite of the fact
that the threatening alligator

constantly cruises
just off shore.

While the egret
hunts for fish,

the alligator
stalks the egret.

The eternal chain of menace
in the Everglades.

The treacherous gator uses
every possible concealment

to bring himself
within striking distance.

So near and yet so far.

For when the birds take wing,

the alligator must remain
the earthbound reptile
that he is.

Still he's
a persistent hunter.

And now the gaudy colors
of the purple gallinule
catch his eye.

At last he's found
a bird preoccupied

with its own problems
of food gathering.

This is his chance.

Like the other birds,

the gallinule must also
risk his life to get food.

He feeds on snails,
which he finds
beneath the lily pads.

Sometimes, to his surprise,
he also finds alligators.

(GALLINULE SQUAWKING)

The gallinule's angry scolding
gives warning

that the prowler
of the Everglades
is still on the loose.

This war of nerves
is a strangely
unhurried affair,

and the birds
learn to estimate

the margin of safety
with calm exactness.

A wrong guess of mere inches,
however, can mean disaster.

(CAWING)

When the alligator
has eaten his fill,
he often lies in the sun.

However, a spot of dry land
is at such a premium

he must sometimes
share it with others.

And the problems of space
make for strange bedfellows.

But once the alligator
settles down to relax,

he's completely oblivious
to his surroundings.

In this lazy state,
he hardly cares
who comes or goes.

He undertakes
nothing more strenuous
than a good yawn.

(ALLIGATOR CALLING)

Suddenly a strange sound
alerts the swamp.

The mating call
of the bull alligator.

(CALLING)

At first the female
pretends disinterest,

accepted feminine behavior
in any courtship.

Yet all the while, she leads
the rival suitors on,

maneuvering them
into a battle for her favor.

(GROWLING)

To the conqueror,
the fair damsel.

Before long,
the female gathers
a pile of wet leaves and mud

for a natural incubator.

Inside this mound, she lays
from two dozen to 100 eggs.

The heat generated
by the decaying material

will incubate the eggs
in about two months' time.

If all of them hatched,
the swamp would be
overrun with alligators,

but not all will survive.
Far from it.

In fact,
out of every 100 eggs,

only a small percentage
will reach adulthood.

During the incubation period,

the female must constantly
guard the eggs
against numerous enemies,

beginning
with other alligators.

Sometimes these intruders
devour the entire 100 eggs.

(HISSING)
This one, however,

has come upon a mother
who is devoted to duty,

and her wrath is more
than a match for it.

One hundred alligator eggs
still have a chance,

especially while
Mother stands guard.

Yet, at intervals,
she must leave her post
to find food.

And now, in her absence,
a new menace appears.

These inquisitive visitors
are spotted skunks.

Like all their tribe,
they have a great liking
for eggs of any kind.

Now he's found one,
the next problem
is how to break it.

Too big to crack
with his teeth,
he tries to smash it

by passing it between his legs
like a football center.

And this creates
still another problem.

For the skunk
is so nearsighted

he has trouble
finding it again.

Oddly enough,
an alligator egg is not
as fragile as it appears.

In fact, its durability
and the skunk's poor eyesight
finally save it.

But only temporarily.

When the raccoon comes along,
it's a different story.

Quite by chance,
Mrs. Gator discovers
that her brood is dwindling.

From now on, she'll keep
an almost continual watch
over her eggs.

Time passes, and toward
the end of the ninth week,

she listens for a faint call
from inside the nest.

(YELPING)

This is her signal
to scrape away
the top layer of leaves.

Her brood, at last, is ready
to come into the world.

(YELPING)

A baby alligator's life
is a struggle
from the beginning.

A struggle to escape
his eggshell cradle,

and later
a constant fight to survive.

However, he's born
with the equipment
to meet his problems.

A complete set of sharp teeth
and a chip on his shoulder.

(YELPING)

At times like this,
instinct guides
all water creatures

to their proper element.

And almost immediately,
the babies line up

for their exodus
to the nearest pond.

It won't be an easy journey,

for a great many hazards
lie between the nest
and the shore.

One of the worst
is the renegade bull,

who lies in wait
along the path to the water.

Still, instinct keeps
the others moving forward,

with the exception of a few

whose energies get channeled
in other directions.

Baby alligators practically
come out of the egg fighting.

These youngsters
have yet to learn

that when young things
don't tend to business,

they're almost certain
to get into trouble.

And sure enough,
here it comes.

It looks
like the end of the trail
for a few more of the brood.

Still, baby alligators
don't give up easily,

and the raccoon's advantage
in size is offset
by their sharp teeth.

(YELPING)

Sometimes the young gators
use teamwork
against the common enemy.

But then again,
they're just as apt to return
to fighting each other.

This is more like it.
Alligators with a handle.

But when the raccoon
nearly loses a finger,

(RACCOON SQUEALS)

he suddenly calls it quits.

So after a running battle,
the babies reach the shore.

Troubles are
not over, however,

for now the problem
of food faces them.

An alligator's growth
is determined largely
by the amount he eats.

From the very beginning,

these youngsters
must compete among themselves
for their sustenance.

At first, they stay close
to their own pond.

Yet even then,
they're not entirely safe,

especially when the raccoon
returns with reinforcements.

While Father deals with one,

the family searches
the shallows for others.

This decimation
goes on constantly.

The pattern of survival
is one that baby alligators
learn quickly.

Always be on guard,
try to eat but don't be eaten,

and, most important,
be very leery
of all strangers.

This young midshipman
proudly surveying
the quarterdeck

has finally figured out
that his best chance
for survival

lies in sticking
close to Mother.

And so, of the original brood,
if Mother manages to save

one or two of her babies,

she's done reasonably well
in the face
of staggering odds.

Now some newcomers
appear on the scene,

a rollicking family of otters.

These are
the carefree vagabonds
of the swampland,

who travel from pond to pond.

No animals get more fun
out of pure play.

The discovery
that the alligators hold
a prior claim to this pond

doesn't faze them
for an instant.

Indeed, that lethal tail
seems to fascinate them.

They can swim rings
around the gator,

and they go out of their way
to prove it.

The alligators
don't quite know how to take
these impudent visitors.

And finally,
fed up with the horseplay,
they go below,

where they're less apt
to be disturbed.

In this submerged realm
of fluid shapes and shadows,

the prowler of the Everglades
is king,

his right to rule undisputed.

He presides over
a deceptive setting,

one with a mirror
in the ceiling.

Nothing is quite
what it seems here.

The real and the unreal
are interchangeable.

An alligator
may seem a shadow,

a shadow may be an alligator.

Vigilance is still
the watchword.

And even the turtle,
with his protective armor,
prefers not to tempt fate.

Before the cormorant
invades this weird domain,

he's careful first
to make sure which phantom
is really the alligator.

This underwater peekaboo
goes on constantly.

If the gator
changes his tactics
and goes off to hide,

the cormorant
is more worried than ever.

It'd much rather know
where the gator is
than where he isn't.

Ah, there he is,

looking like a harmless log
with a smile.

Up above, meanwhile, traffic
becomes quite congested.

And sometimes
these paddlers are so busy
watching the alligator,

they forget to watch
where they're going.

Except for the fish,
most of these creatures
are out of their element,

and must constantly replenish
exhausted supplies of oxygen.

The snakebird
solves the problem
in a way all his own.

He simply thrusts
his extra-long neck
above the surface

while his body remains
completely submerged.

Every bird adapts itself
to this water world
in its own way.

The energetic coot
swims with his wings.

His feet are not
the webbed paddles
of the true swimmer.

They're merely fringed
with delicate membranes.

But this makes
little difference
to the alligator.

Dangling feet of any sort
are an invitation
to tiptoe upstairs.

The coot's running take off
leaves him with nothing

but footprints on the ceiling.

Uh-oh.

Enter the uninvited.

Delighted to meet
an old friend again,

the otters take up the game
where they left it.

It's against
the gator's nature, however,
to make himself conspicuous.

The only life he knows is
one of stealth and deception.

And he soon goes
into hiding again to practice
the art he knows best.

Meanwhile, the otters
take possession
of his underwater domain.

To these merry madcaps,
life is a continuous,
carefree water ballet.

In the swampland,
all of life follows
a pattern of endless cycles,

for these things are timeless
and will never change.

The life-giving rains
that follow the draught,

the quiet watchfulness
of the hunted,

the silent menace
of the hunter,

the calm that comes
after the storm.

And so
this True-Life Adventure
is a story

that has neither beginning
nor end.

For as long
as nature preserves
this water wilderness

for her own,

the prowler of the Everglades
will survive

in the swamp that time forgot.