Natural World (1983) s30e01 Episode Script

The Orinoco river basin in Venezuela is a strangely eerie place.
It's a lost world, with some of the largest areas of pristine jungle left in South America.
These forests are the stronghold of a secretive, poorly understood bird of prey.
The harpy eagle.
They're massive birds which snatch large monkeys from tree tops.
I'm here to try and understand them.
It's going to be hard.
They're one of the most elusive of all the eagles.
My aim was to get close to these birds and follow a chick being raised in the depths of this forest, but I'd no idea just how close our encounters would be.
This is the eagle of all eagles.
As a wildlife film maker, a harpy eagle will probably be the biggest challenge of my career.
I've been fascinated by birds of prey ever since I was young, and filmed many of them.
But the harpy eagle has outwitted nearly everyone.
Most bird lovers would give their eye teeth to see this bird.
They're so difficult to see in the wild because they stay hidden in vast areas of jungle.
It's at the top of a massive ceiba tree that we find a nest.
This is one of the biggest trees in the forest.
The nest will be a window into the eagle's world.
But is there a chick? The only way we'll find out is to get up into the canopy.
'We've found a tree that has a good view over to the nest.
' I've never had to do this for a bird of prey before.
Get 40 metres off the ground to have a good look at it.
Normally, eagles nest in places where you can see them from the ground fairly easily.
It's a long way to go up, but it's the only way we are going to get a view of the area and all the animals.
Under the eyes of the harpy.
I'm overwhelmed by the sensation of height and space up here.
Like a dive down onto a reef, a whole new world starts to appear.
This is the part of the forest that receives all the sunshine.
It's where the flowering and fruiting happens and this attracts a huge range of birds and other animals.
Up here, I'm out of my natural element.
It's mesmerising.
Over there is the enormous ceiba tree.
A strange force, completely dominating this part of the forest.
This is exactly the kind of place I'd imagined these magnificent eagles might choose to build a nest.
There's the female and I'm sure the nest is active.
Are there any chicks? There's one and only recently hatched.
It's tiny.
This is what I've been really hoping for, because now, for the next year or more, the adults will focus all their energies into raising this chick right here in front of us.
They'll be tied to that nest and we'll be watching their every move.
We're in a unique position now to learn more about these mysterious eagles.
We've got a pair of eagles with a chick .
.
but what are they eating? They're arguably the most powerful eagle in the world, built to kill huge animals.
I'm surprised to see these red howler monkeys around here.
They've been well recorded as prey for harpy eagles.
Surely, this troop is pushing its luck hanging around here now there's a NEST of eagles? This is a three-toed sloth.
He must be an easy meal.
I'm surprised to find a family of aracaris right between us and the eagles.
They're a type of toucan.
Like all birds, I'd expect them to be too fast to be caught by the big eagles.
To have such strikingly beautiful, gregarious birds right beside us up here in the canopy is a stroke of good luck.
I suspect they're nesting in the hole in the tree.
There's another type of monkey that's surprisingly visible around here - wedge-capped capuchins.
They're smaller than the howler monkeys - fast and agile.
Maybe too nimble for the eagles.
You hear them crashing through the branches far more often than you see them.
I'm not expecting to see a hunt.
The jungle is so vast and thick, we'd never see it.
My aim is different.
By being at the nest, I'll see both the chick and everything that gets brought in.
The female eagle's hungry.
I can tell because she's calling.
Here comes her mate, and he's carrying something.
It's a capuchin monkey.
This is amazing.
I remember reading about these very mysterious, dinosaur-like eagles of the forest when I was young, but I never dreamt that one day I would see one returning with a monkey, and in this place, which is like a real Jurassic Park.
It's quite something.
It's just frustrating for us having such a narrow window of view into the nest, only able to see what's happening between two branches.
We'll need a better view than this.
We can't build a hide in the ceiba tree itself.
Harpy eagles are notoriously aggressive.
But a remote camera could work if we can safely get up and install one into the nest.
What's this? It's Kevlar padding.
'The team going up to install the camera put on police riot gear.
' Because that gives you all of the protection around the back of the neck.
Which is great, but is that OK for climbing? These eagles specialise in killing primates.
We'll need to be very careful if she isn't going to hurt us with those lethal weapons on her feet.
It makes sense to climb the tree in the cool of the early morning so the technical team won't cook in all their heavy gear.
Their time up there has to be kept to a minimum.
We want to make the least disturbance.
I don't know how these particular eagles will react.
I do know from other birds of prey that levels of aggression can vary widely between individuals.
We've rehearsed installing the cameras on the ground, so once they're up the tree there's no mucking about.
It'll function as a surveillance camera remaining on much of the time and helping us get a complete picture of the eagle's life.
We'll be passing on these nest cam pictures to scientists.
It'll be recording completely new behaviour.
The nest cam will take quite a bashing with rain and humidity, but it's built to last.
Picture quality is a second priority.
James starts his abseil down.
We want the female to return to her chick.
Adrian is out now.
Suddenly, the female swoops feet away from him.
It's a warning.
He must get down quickly now.
She's got a fistful of knives she can use next time.
She swoops again.
Closer this time.
Any moment, she's going to take off.
Thankfully, she leaves him alone and returns to the chick.
No-one wants to do that again in a hurry.
Straight away we're getting a view of the whole nest area.
It's as big as a double bed.
We can see mum and chick, now relaxed.
The male eagle arrives and he's carrying something.
It looks, to me, like another capuchin monkey.
The nest cam confirms my suspicion that the female never leaves the chick.
It's only the male that's hunting - at the moment.
It's strange for me to see this tiny, vulnerable chick and imagine it as big and powerful as its mother one day.
If the mother wasn't here, even a capuchin might take it.
Our own capuchin troop is becoming increasingly familiar to us.
Their habits are very regular.
They're like a band of pickpockets.
Capuchins are well-known thieves of eggs and chicks.
They won't take the eagle chick whilst its mother is in attendance, that's a fact.
Mind you, the capuchins are brave.
This one's being heavily stung by bees while putting its fingers into some honey from a hole in a tree.
But thinking about it, we never see any monkeys very close to the ceiba tree.
It's as if there's an exclusion zone around it.
With the eagles up there, the capuchin would be crazy to get too close.
Mind you, the aracaris don't seem to mind at all.
They couldn't really be closer.
Their own tree is only metres away from the ceiba tree.
They're so social.
All of this gang are one close-knit extended family group.
Now that we've been here in the trees for over a week, we're beginning to see patterns.
The aracaris have probably chosen this nesting tree for a very good reason.
The branch just above them is often used by the male harpy as a resting post between hunting.
What more could they ask? No capuchin in its right mind would try and raid eggs or chicks from this aracari nest.
It must be one of the most desirable homes in the area.
It looks like the neighbours know it.
They're challenging the residents.
Our aracaris won't give it up without a fight.
Thankfully, our aracaris remain.
They're a bit ruffled by this, but their dignity looks intact.
Back on the nest, day ten, and there's more for us to worry about.
A yellow-headed vulture is circling the ceiba tree.
It's probably been attracted by the stench of old carcasses emanating from the harpy nest.
The vulture could eat the chick.
I realise now why mum can't ever leave the nest.
As long as the chick is small, it's very vulnerable.
Some days, nothing happens.
But other days, we're worried we could lose the chick.
Just in our second week, and to our complete horror, we find a scouting column of army ants ascending the base of the ceiba tree.
Bats that roost in the buttresses are frightened off.
Behind them, moving along the forest floor, is a column, one million strong, all on the march for food.
Army ants can overwhelm and kill large creatures that can't get out of their way.
Birds follow the ants and jump on bugs, trying to escape the frenzy of the advancing line.
But the ceiba tree is far too high.
We're relieved that the main column sticks to the forest floor.
But they're not entirely out of trouble's reach.
BUZZING Mother and chick are getting bothered by flies.
She's right to be concerned.
These can be deadly.
Bot flies are common here.
They lay eggs on skin or feather and when the larvae hatch, they bury quickly into flesh.
One may not be a problem, but an infestation can kill.
We've found chicks dead.
I don't want my eagle to go that way.
I've seen nature take its course with eagles of this age before, but not this one, please.
The female is acting strangely.
Is she responding to the threat of these flies? She seeks out branches laden with green leaves and breaks them off.
She takes them back to the nest.
Other, better-studied eagles have also been recorded doing this.
Intriguingly, the foliage they choose may contain a natural insecticide.
The nest cam reveals that she does this just under 40 times in three weeks.
I can see the power in this eagle now.
It's the enormous strength in that beak and her feet.
I can see now how, when she's hunting, she must use those deep, broad wings to help her pull away monkeys or sloths that have enough life remaining in them to cling to the trees.
My guess is that the green foliage has several other benefits as well, like burying old carcasses in the nest and even shading the chick from the blisteringly hot sun.
There's really high ultraviolet up here at 30 metres on the top of the canopy.
It cooks everything and everyone.
But it's rain that's the real killer.
You know a storm is on the way because of sudden gusts of wind.
These squalls make the tree you're in sway like a ship in heavy sea.
Today, I'm really worried.
THUNDER RUMBLES There's a storm on the way.
To make matters worse, it's been two days now since the male eagle last returned with food and there's still no sign of him.
As eagles can't hunt easily in bad weather, the last thing she now needs is rain.
THUNDER RUMBLES If this oncoming storm lasts long, my chick could die of hunger, or exposure, or both.
I've seen it happen before with other eagle chicks, but I can't bear the thought of losing this one.
She's committed to brooding her chick through this rain.
I hope it'll save its life.
Endless heavy rain like this makes staying dry impossible.
Three days later, the rain finally stops.
I have no way of knowing if the chick is still alive.
Mum's clearly very hungry and calling hard.
But the chick? Well, it's alivejust.
A prey delivery by the male is now crucial.
She looks around, desperate to find him.
Here he comes, and he's carrying something.
I think it's a sloth.
In seeming disgust at the delay, the mother sends the male straight back to hunting for more.
Standing over that sloth, which is about the size of a domestic cat, you can appreciate just how big she is.
The chick is accepting food, that's the main thing.
Tiny morsels are offered so the chick won't choke.
I'm sure it'll soon gather its strength back.
It's been a testing time, but I sense it's over the most vulnerable stage.
What I'm looking forward to now is the next phase of its life, in a few months time, when it'll be growing and eating more than ever and that big female will have to hunt for it as well.
Eight weeks later, we walk the route toward the ceiba tree again.
All I can think about is the eagle chick.
The ground has changed.
The dry riverbed, which was a useful path through the forest, has become a stream.
I'm apprehensive now.
Perhaps we shouldn't have left the eagle's nest for so long.
I wasn't expecting it to have rained so much while we were away.
I spot an adult, which is encouraging But the chick? I'm in disbelief.
It's grown beyond all recognition.
But he's looking well.
When he was tiny I couldn't say that I could sense a character, but I can see it in him now.
I say "him" because I think, from his smaller size, that he's a male.
The whole canopy around here has transformed, too.
It's alive with rich, vibrant colour.
Forks in the high trees make bird baths.
And here are my old friends, the aracaris.
I never expected to see these birds again.
They make me smile.
Like so many creatures in the forest, these aracaris are such a strange sight, but they're nothing compared to some of the noises.
BIRDS CALL What I find really strange about being in the forest is the acoustics and every noise is amplified and it echoes a bit, and it travels a long way and sometimes you hear these calls and think they're right by you but in fact they're a long, long way away.
It's just like sitting in a cathedral where you hear very distant voices and you can't quite understand where they're coming from.
I think a lot of people imagine that a rainforest is a menacing place.
The truth is it's a very beautiful place.
The colours are ones that you'll never see anywhere else in the world.
I suspect this peace will soon be shattered.
A vast pair of wings is about to shadow the jungle.
The female is going to start hunting.
She's a force to be reckoned with, we know that.
She's a third bigger than him.
The forest will have to be doubly alert.
I'm guessing our howler monkeys will be on the menu now.
They even have young.
That's good timing by her.
But I can't be sure what she'll catch.
It'll be the nest cam that'll show us.
But there's a problem, frustratingly, it's fogged up.
It's just a blur of the nest area.
We know the value of the data the nest cam was recording, but given how aggressive the female was on the last ascent, the technical team are understandably not that keen about going back up.
They cover their legs and lower backs with tough rawhide strips to cover the parts not protected by their stab jackets and Kevlar gear.
James goes up first.
There's still no sign of her.
Oh, here she comes.
Straight for my face.
The eagle waits until his back is turned.
He's been hit again.
Right.
She's now behind me.
I've got her.
Ow! This strike dislodged James' microphone, and hit his head so hard he was left stunned.
He's stuck now.
It's a stalemate.
He can't afford to descend in case he loses sight of her, even for a second.
The harpy's just a few yards away waiting for another chance to attack.
Graham has to go up and cover James' back, and it pays off.
After this swoop, the harpy doesn't attack again.
Together, they can watch out for each other and make the repairs whilst the eagle gets back to the nest.
We're now in awe at the power in these eagles.
Whatever happens, no-one wants to do that again.
It was a close shave, but now, we're back in action.
She's settled .
.
and ready to hunt.
Having seen her take out James, I wouldn't want to be a monkey living in this jungle now.
The teenager is on his own.
He's glaring at us.
It's at moments like this that I catch his eye and I'm not sure if I'm looking at something very friendly or very evil.
He's poised like a dinosaur.
He must have seen me moving.
It's quite unnerving.
Any movement is spotted by his eagle eye.
Birds of various kinds now mob him.
They see him as a threat.
He'll soon learn to hide himself away in the mottled shadows of thick cover.
I have no doubt his parents do this when they're hunting, their best attack is a surprise attack.
The female returns.
She's brought a capuchin.
I'm quite surprised.
I thought she'd be catching howler monkeys.
Where are all these capuchins coming from? They're not from the local troop.
Could I find out? Moving very slowly and quietly allows me to use my hearing as well as not be heard.
Between the more familiar forest sounds there's one that's new to me.
BANGING The capuchins are gorging on fruit.
The rains must have brought these on while we were away.
Totally pre-occupied in these fruit laden trees, this troop of capuchin must be very vulnerable to eagle attack.
But what great timing for the ever-hungry teenage eagle.
Remembering how James was attacked, with no warning, from behind, I look at these monkeys and can imagine their quick fate.
The monkeys must dread those eagles, but the chance to feast must be overwhelming.
I wonder, have the eagles timed it all deliberately to coincide their breeding cycle with this opportunity to exploit the capuchin? But why still no howler monkeys? In other places I've read that they feed on them a lot.
Why don't my eagles catch them? Our own troop of howlers has always been in the same trees close to the harpy nest.
What I do notice, is that they're usually in the very top branches.
Exposed above the forest like this, the eagle must struggle to surprise them.
Look at them stay in this tight group.
Without surprise, I guess the eagle may not risk an attack, either.
I bet those howlers could fight back if they weren't dispatched quickly with a surprise dagger in the back.
It's an ugly scene in my head but it reminds me again of her strike on James.
She knew what she was doing.
She waited until he couldn't see her.
And thinking about it, we rarely see the howlers out of this strange formation, like a protective square, even when they're just lounging around.
It's September now, five months since he hatched.
His flight feathers have grown down and by his excited look I think he can feel them in his wing beats.
There are times when he looks up to the sky, to other birds of prey.
I sense he wants to join them and it won't be that long now before he will.
He'll be out of this tree, the only world he's known since he hatched.
I'm attached to him now, in a strange way.
I've grown fond of him.
I think he's keener to leave the nest than I am to see him go.
Just having a big wing stretch.
Beautiful.
The harpy chick has now reached an age when it's clearly beginning to move around the branches, and I'm sorting of expecting it to fly quite soon.
It's not, probably, going to fly in the next week, but sooner or later it'll be airborne.
And that's quite a concern to me, because there's a point at which the whole focus of the film has been possible because of the nest.
The moment of fledging is hard to predict and we've learnt as much as we're going to until he's a bit older.
We're planning to come again in four months' time.
What we weren't to know was that it would actually be the most exciting phase of all.
Four months later, we're back in the forest.
I'm staggered to find my bird still in the ceiba tree.
This time, as well, he's barely recognisable, he's a young adult now.
He's distinctly pale compared to the adults.
He's in very good condition.
He can fly well, but why's he in the ceiba tree and not out in the forest? He seems hungry.
The female flies in with prey.
He's probably struggling to kill regularly enough to survive, but he's nearly a year old.
To still be dependent on the adults at this age is very unusual for an eagle.
But then, I guess not all eagles survive on catching monkeys.
He's surrounded by beautiful birds called red-rumped caciques that have taken up residence in the ceiba tree whilst we've been away.
He's watching and listening.
BIRDS CALL They'd be too fast for him to catch.
He's just curious.
The forest is full of strange sights and sounds.
The next morning, the ceiba tree is empty.
He's gone, where? He's way off .
.
and in a different place each day.
Nothing misses his keen eye.
He's strong on the wing.
I suddenly think this could be the last time I'd see him, maybe for weeks.
And then, there is the most extraordinary surprise.
Look! Look! Look! She's just come into land! The chick, the male, can you see him? Just come in on that branch, come to look at her, that is absolutely amazing.
I wonder if she'll stay there while we climb.
The male has taken off.
Just on the right branch.
It's the weirdest thing, Graham's about to go up and do some filming and to our amazement the male chick has just come in and landed about two, three metres from his hide.
Even as we're looking at him, he's bobbing his head and looking at us.
He's just not bothered.
I think he might even stay there when you go up the ropes.
I think he will, yeah.
His mum, of course, we know very well.
She's got very bad manners.
I don't think he's got any real reason to attack us, that's what I hope.
When I look at him through the binoculars, his sight is so good he's picking something up, a reflection in the lens and he's looking right down the barrels at me.
It's quite alarming.
I'm glad I'm not a capuchin.
But he is the most beautiful bird, absolutely beautiful.
He's so curious.
What does he want? It's compelling.
Each morning, as I look for him, I suspect he's looking for me.
He appears from nowhere.
He's taking everything in, every sight and sound, the capuchins as well, their movements and timings.
I'm guessing he'll need to gather this intelligence quickly to outwit the monkeys.
These eagles are so calculating, more than any other bird of prey I've ever worked with.
It's probably why bird books mention that young harpy eagles can still be found in the nest area for up to a year after they fledge.
They need every bit of that time to master the art of catching clever monkeys, while their parents still support them.
And something else crosses my mind, difficult to prove but I think highly likely, and that is that his parents have quite deliberately left the monkeys around the ceiba tree alone, untouched.
They've been left for the chick! This will be his training ground.
These eagles are exceeding all my expectations, yet our filming has to draw to a close.
We can't stay in the forest with this bird forever.
On our last day we start to get our gear out of the tree and he's drawn in to watch us - this time closer than ever before.
It's an extraordinary moment for me, as both a film maker and someone who loves birds of prey.
Here we are just staring each other out in a way that I've never connected with a wild eagle before.
Graham, he is getting ridiculously close to you.
Over.
You could probably put your hand out and touch those talons.
Over.
I won't do that, don't want to touch his talons again.
It's extraordinary.
A huge wild eagle just five metres away from the cameraman .
.
eyeballing us both, curious to know what we're doing, studying us.
In fact, he's bobbing at me right now.
I would never have dreamt that I'd connect in this way with a wild forest eagle.
From the day we first saw him .
.
our close encounters with his fiercely protective and loyal mother .
.
to this young adult, now free in the forest.
When we film birds of prey, we tend to get close-ups of the young when they're tiny and when they fly, we see them less and less.
Now, with this young eagle, well, it's been the other way round.
Over the year that we've been here, I've just got closer and closer to him.
I've got so much respect for these extraordinary eagles.
Realising now, as I do, what they must endure to survive and raise young.
On my last day, I was so sorry to know that I wouldn't see him again.
My last sight of him was as he flew away, very majestically, into the great wild forest of the Orinoco.