The Hunt (2015) s01e05 Episode Script

Nearly half of the world's land surface is covered by desert or grassland.
These are the most exposed habitats on our planet.
Nowhere else is the tension between predators and prey more obvious.
Out here, the element of surprise scarcely exists.
A cheetah, superbly adapted to hunt in the open.
Only from the air can you truly appreciate its incredible agility and speed.
But even for the fastest animal on land, speed is not enough.
To be successful out here requires more than physical ability.
It requires strategy.
A cheetah's take off point is critical.
Her top speed can only be maintained for just a few seconds.
To be successful, she must get within just 30 meters of her prey undetected.
Picking the right target is vital.
Something small enough to handle.
The final stalk begins.
The mothers block her path.
But in a flat-out chase, nothing can outrun a cheetah.
Too lightweight to jump on top, she must trip her prey.
Missed! But having timed her run to perfection, she still has energy to try again.
This cheetah hunt may have been successful, but nearly 60% of hunts end in failure.
Few can hunt by stealth on the open plains.
But where the grass grows a little longer, there is opportunity.
One specialist predator is able to use every centimeter of cover to get close to its prey.
Guinea fowl.
Always on edge.
Hunting by stealth in open grassland is a challenge.
But if anything can do it, a caracal can.
She is the finest bird hunter on the plains.
Her outsized hind legs can launch her three meters into the air, and her magnificent ears can detect the slightest rustle of prey.
Even in the longest grass, there is no hiding from a caracal.
A solitary bird should be easier to creep up on.
A caracal's hit rate is just one in ten.
But the day is not over yet.
If only she could fly.
Not all predators of the plains must rely on not being seen.
There is no hiding a honey badger.
Hunting in the open, in broad daylight, she's anything but subtle.
She doesn't need to be.
Most of her prey live out of sight, underground.
With long claws and powerful front legs, she is a digging machine.
She can dig 50 holes in a single day.
It's worth it, to get to highly nutritious rodents.
Following her nose, she can sniff out almost anything.
Even the most well-armed prey are not safe from a honey badger.
She's immune to the scorpion's stings, but it's not a very enjoyable experience.
And all for quite a small reward.
With an incredibly high metabolism, the honey badger needs constant refueling.
An ostrich egg would be a rich reward, but they're the strongest eggs on the plains, and very hard to break into.
This will require all her ingenuity.
Finally, she's cracked it.
Honey badgers have over 50 known prey.
Their success depends on their willingness to take on anything.
It's not just predators that have strategies to cope with life in the open.
Their prey have also risen to the challenge.
On plains across the world, there is one kind of soft-bodied prey that has a dramatic solution for living in the open.
They build themselves fortresses.
Termites, hard at work.
It can take five years and several generations for a mound to grow to its full size.
It's a triumph of collective engineering.
Safe within their castles of clay, they're protected from nature's extremes.
Wildfires can reach temperatures of 800 centigrade.
But on Brazil's vast Cerrado grasslands, the mounds provide such good protection that here, termites are the most abundant form of animal life.
Within the thick walls of their fortress, they live a complex social life.
At the center is the queen.
Over the course of her life, she will produce several million eggs.
Deep inside, the members of the community are safe and undisturbed.
But once a year, some are compelled to leave.
The rainy season triggers a spectacular event.
A new generation of winged termites, alates emerge in their millions.
Their mission, to start a new colony.
But so much abundance doesn't go unnoticed.
Predators lurk in the fabric of the mound's outer walls.
Headlight beetle larvae.
They've been waiting all year for this moment.
As night falls, they make their way to the surface of the mound.
There are hundreds of them.
Their lights are lethally attractive.
Like moths to a flame, the termites cannot resist their bioluminescent glow.
For just two weeks each year, the Cerrado is alight with glowing mounds.
The beetle larvae must stock their larders for the leaner months ahead.
With food in such infrequent supply, it will take two years for each larva to grow into an adult beetle.
The synchronized emergence of a million alates makes these casualties insignificant.
Only a single pair are needed to start a new colony.
There is safety in numbers.
Flocking is a key defense strategy for birds that live in the open.
Few sights illustrate this better than America's snow geese on their annual migration.
One and a half million birds, stopping to refuel in Squaw Creek, Missouri.
Bald eagles have been gathering, waiting for this opportunity.
It might look like a lot of food, but these are a winter prey of last resort.
Almost as big as an eagle, a goose is a large and difficult prey.
And the flock takes on a life of its own.
An impenetrable wall of beating wings.
In the visual confusion, picking a single target is almost impossible.
The eagles must wait for conditions to change.
At this time of year, the lake can freeze overnight.
This is what the eagles have been waiting for.
As the open water shrinks, the geese are forced closer and closer together.
The eagles send the flock into the air.
Diving to the bottom causes panic.
Now being in the flock is a liability.
In the crammed chaos, geese collide.
Some are injured.
Separated from the safety of the flock, they're far more easy to catch.
Despite the vast numbers, the eagles have only managed a few kills.
For the geese, traveling in a flock has paid off, and the vast majority continue their migration.
Even the toughest rely on the safety that comes from numbers.
Herding is an important defense for animals that graze in the open.
Weighing up to 800 kilos, massive cape buffalo form super-herds, over 1,000 strong.
An impenetrable mass of muscle and horn.
Only Africa's largest predator can tackle buffalo.
And even they know better than to attempt a herd.
Highly aggressive, even unprovoked, buffalo will trample lions, given the chance.
Usually, the relationship is one of mutual respect.
At the end of Zambia's dry season, grasslands can turn to dust.
For the buffalo, it's an endless search for new pasture.
With the temperature rising to over 50 degrees centigrade, an adult bull risks leaving the safety of the herd to find fresh grazing alone.
Lions will normally avoid hunting in such heat.
But they're also opportunists.
The lions will need to bring him down quickly, before they overheat.
Even away from the herd, a bull is a formidable opponent.
It could gore and kill a lion.
Close to overheating, they finally succeed in bringing him to the ground.
But the massive bull is not giving up.
Against the odds, and the full weight of the lions, he regains his feet.
And it is now that the tables turn.
The lions are exhausted.
After a 20-minute struggle, only the bull has the energy to finish the fight.
In such exposed and extreme conditions, the challenge for predators and their prey is at its most intense.
On the roof of Africa, one predator has adapted its entire hunting strategy to suit its unusual home and prey.
A wolf that looks like a fox.
The Ethiopian wolf lives an isolated life, cut off in a bleak world, 3,000 meters above sea level.
As with other wolves, the whole pack must work together if young are to be reared successfully.
The alpha female must stay and nurse the pups.
But every morning, the rest of the pack set out together.
Jointly, they patrol the perimeter of their highland territory.
But unlike other wolves, they split up when it comes to hunting.
These wolves face their prey alone.
A giant mole rat.
It might look like strange prey for a wolf, but it's the best food to be had on these high plains.
Better than the smaller grass rats.
There are rodents everywhere, but hunting here is no picnic.
There's no hiding an orange-colored wolf in this open landscape.
And the grass rats are hyper-vigilant.
The mole rats are careful to never fully leave their burrows.
Every wolf has its own unique strategy to catch these rodents.
This one plays a waiting game.
This one tackles the challenge head-on.
But they're no honey badgers when it comes to digging.
This wolf doesn't care if the prey go underground.
He has a different technique for grass rats.
He huffs and puffs.
Blowing down the holes like this, he hopes to flush his prey to the surface.
Genius! But it's only a meager grass rat.
Catching the larger mole rat requires a bit more craftiness.
Their eyesight is poor, but the wolf still needs to tread carefully.
Mole rats are acutely sensitive to vibrations in the ground.
Grandmother's footsteps seems to be working.
Oh, dear.
Outwitted by a mole rat.
Luckily for the wolf, there's always one that's tempted to go a bit too far.
At last.
The more extreme the habitat, the more extreme the challenge.
The Namib Desert, one of the most exposed places on Earth.
As the sun climbs high, everybody takes cover from the extreme heat.
Everybody except the hotrod ant.
As others take refuge, their day is just beginning.
Cleaning out the nest.
The sand can reach a scorching 70 centigrade.
The ants' long legs raise their bodies above the surface, where it's ten degrees cooler.
But if they stand still, they will fry.
They must keep moving or risk the same fate as their quarry, the creatures that have collapsed from heat stroke.
Too deeply buried, but a good place to cool off.
Foraging decisions must be fast.
Too big Perfect.
Back to the nest before they also die.
But they've strayed into a minefield.
Each of these strange, cone-shaped pits is a deathtrap With a brutal predator at its center.
Here lie antlion larvae, tiny ambush predators with venom-filled pincers.
Some ants manage to escape, but the antlion has other tricks.
Flinging sand into the air, it creates an avalanche.
In this cone of death, the walls are so angled that the sand slips beneath the ant's feet.
As boulders rain from the sky, escape seems almost impossible.
Phew! Some have been lost, but the hotrods are still going.
At last, a decent prize.
But carrying it off is another matter.
The race is on to dismember the prey without getting heatstroke themselves.
Another trap.
A silken snare.
A spoor spider has spun a sticky cloak of sand, and hides in the cool beneath.
Vibrations bring it to the surface.
Reeled in, escape is impossible.
Bound into the sandy web, the ant is cooked in the heat of the sun.
Unable to move, death comes fast.
By late afternoon, the troops face one last problem.
It's now so hot that convection winds have sprung up across the dunes.
Finally, home, and with enough food for the whole colony.
They have endured the midday sun and reaped the reward.
One habitat is even more exposed than the Namib.
Two thousand square miles the vast salt pan of Etosha in southern Africa.
The most extreme open arena.
It's hard to imagine anywhere with less cover.
Nonetheless, there are animals here.
A meager waterhole brings everyone close together.
Lions can survive alone, but in Etosha's dry season, cooperation is vital.
Living here requires teamwork.
This extreme landscape has forced them to up their game.
For now, hunting is impossible.
Eyes are everywhere.
There is absolutely nowhere for these ambush predators to hide.
The prey know they are safe.
Lions are not good sprinters.
The herds stay easily out of range.
But change is in the air.
This is the lions' time.
A vast storm gathers, blowing dust into the air.
Unease spreads amongst the herds.
Their senses muffled, they're suddenly vulnerable, unable to hear or smell their predator.
Each lioness takes her place, undetected.
With nowhere to hide, this pride has learnt to exploit the fleeting cover nature provides.
All will share the meal.
Only by working together can they provide for the next generation and survive in the most exposed habitat on the planet.