Great Lakes Untamed (2022): Season 1, Episode 3 - Marvels and Mysteries - full transcript

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NARRATOR: The first
glimmer of spring

casts a warm glow over the
Great Lakes of North America.

As the Earth shakes
off its icy shackles,

unleashing frozen waters,
a world of wonders appears.

Strange rocks light up
like glowing embers.

Armor-plated giants rise from
the depths and surge up screen.

Tiny hunters launch
aerial attacks,

and mighty land mammals
dive deep for their dinner.

Here, seasonal change
drives evolution,

and animals must adapt
to best take advantage.

[music playing]



For 10,000 years,
these five iconic lakes

have witnessed the
arrival of spring,

a season that features some
of nature's greatest marvels

and mysteries.

It's March, and the
big thaw has started

early on the Great Lakes.

Temperatures suddenly
skyrocket from subzero

to more than 65 degrees.

Out on Lake Superior,
ice is on the move.

As the massive expanse of ice
begins to weaken and shatter,

powerful North winds
drive ice floes

towards the southern shore.

A tsunami of ice
invades the land.

The power of ice is formidable.



As it bears down, it
dredges the lakebed,

scooping up anything in its
path before surging onto shore.

Each spring, it
deposits strange rocks

from the north that were
carried here by the ice

sheet thousands of years ago.

Michigan rock hound
Erik Rintamaki

is the first to discover them.

In 2017, he's exploring the
south shore of Lake Superior,

searching for minerals known to
glow under ultraviolet light.

The first few nights
yield nothing,

but on the third mysterious
glimmers catch his eye.

Some of the stones emit an
extraordinary lava-like glow.

Rintamaki has no idea
where the rocks come from

or what mineral
makes them light up,

but he's convinced he's stumbled
onto something significant.

Turns out, he's right.

These amazing stones help to
tell the story of the origins

of the Great Lakes.

21,000 years ago, a giant
glacier spread south over much

of North America.

The ice sheet, almost
two miles thick,

advanced and retreated
multiple times,

carving and reshaping
huge depressions

where the bedrock was softest.

When the ice finally began
to recede 13,000 years ago,

vast amounts of meltwater
drained into these basins,

creating the five Great
Lakes we know today--

Superior, Michigan,
Huron, Erie, and Ontario,

a massive watershed flowing
east to the Atlantic Ocean,

containing nearly a quarter
of Earth's fresh water.

But the ice left behind
more than just meltwater.

It deposited vast amounts
of rocks and minerals,

among them the
strangely glowing stones

Erik Rintamaki discovered.

The stones contain
sodalite, a rare sodium

rich mineral that glows red
under ultraviolet light.

The closest source of
sodalite is found 200 miles to

the north, in Ontario, Canada.

Which means an ancient glacier
carried them here, scooped up

in the underbelly of the ice.

Over millennia, big
shifts in climate

have altered the
Great Lakes landscape

and the animals that live here.

But there's one ancient creature
that's dwelt in these waters

for more than 10,000 years.

Legends tell of a
Great Lakes monster,

the ridge-backed
dragon of Lake Ontario.

Mishipeshu, the dangerous
spirit of Lake Superior,

and Bessie, the giant
serpent of Lake Erie.

The reality is no
less impressive--

a leviathan called
the lake sturgeon,

the largest fish in the lakes.

This female measures
close to 7 feet

long, weighs almost 300 pounds,
and could be 150 years old.

She has no scales.

Instead, bony body armor
as tough as alligator skin

protects her from predators.

But natural predators aren't
this giant's biggest problem.

Changes on the rivers
where sturgeon spawn

pose a much greater threat.

Breeding season often
starts in April,

but only when rivers run
high and reach the right

temperature, around 55 degrees.

Only then does she and
thousands of other sturgeon

leave the lakes and
head upstream to spawn.

The largest gathering
in North America

now occurs here, on
the Wolf River, 38

miles west from Lake Michigan.

This precious piece of
sturgeon real estate

is already churning
with females.

Most don't reach sexual
maturity until their mid-20s

and then will only spawn
once every 4 to 9 years,

a reproductive cycle
that makes lake

sturgeon especially vulnerable.

The smaller males vie
to fertilize the eggs.

The biggest females can
release 3 million eggs

onto the river's gravel shoals.

Water levels must be high enough
to accommodate these giants.

And that's why the Wolf
River is so valuable.

It's springtime water
levels are still reliable.

Other spawning grounds have
been destroyed by dams,

which lowered water levels.

Overfishing also helped
decimate the sturgeon,

and their numbers have declined
by 99% in the last century.

But today, thanks
to conservation

efforts, this ancient
giant is making

a slow and steady comeback.

So the small fry
born this spring

may well live on in the Great
Lakes for decades to come.

As the last of the snow melts
in the forest surrounding Lake

Huron, another
creature is just waking

up from a long winter nap--

a spotted salamander.

She adjusts to the rising
temperature then sets out

on her goal, getting
to her breeding pond

fast enough to find a mate.

She knows exactly where
she's going because she's

navigated this path many times.

Her destination is
a quarter of a mile

away, an epic journey
for a creature

just seven inches long.

but danger still lurks.

Lingering in the shade
is a small patch of snow.

For a tiny salamander,
it's a giant glacier.

But a detour might cause
delay, so she pushes on.

Salamanders are cold blooded and
can't generate their own heat.

This icy obstacle could paralyze
her before she can cross.

Others have already
succumbed to the cold.

She needs to get off
the snow, and fast.

Safely back on warmer
ground, her pace quickens.

Her destination is
almost in sight.

Every year, spring melt
fills the shallow pond,

the same pond
she's been breeding

in for almost two decades.

Spotted salamanders can
live well into their 20s.

How they navigate the same
path to the same breeding

pond year after year
remains a mystery.

This one is perfect, deep
enough to breed but small enough

to keep out predatory fish.

Our salamander is
late to the party.

Dozens of potential suitors
have already arrived.

So she's spoiled for choice.

With the nuptials over, she
lays hundreds of eggs before

heading out to
forage, leaving her

young to fend for themselves .

But as the weather warms
and water levels drop,

oxygen levels plummet.

Lack of oxygen could
pose a serious threat

to the eggs' survival.

But evolution has devised
a remarkable solution.

Nestled within each egg
are tiny specks of algae.

As the algae photosynthesize,
they release enough oxygen

for the embryos to breathe.

Spotted salamanders are the only
vertebrates in the world known

to form this
alliance with algae,

which slowly turns
their eggs from cloudy

white to minty green.

Scientists still don't know
how or why the algae enters

the eggs, but the
oxygen it provides

gives the unborn salamanders
a head start in life.

Once they hatch, the
larvae are on their own.

Finding food becomes
their main objective.

600 miles to the
west, other youngsters

are also growing hungry.

Born in late April, these wolf
pups are around five weeks old.

They're still nursing,
but their mother's milk

is now supplemented with meat.

She'll partially
digest her prey,

then regurgitate some
of it for her pups.

But catching prey isn't easy,
even for a powerful predator.

Adult wolves can go without
food for up to a week.

But these little pups need to
eat four or five times a day,

so they're a lot
more vulnerable.

Starvation is their
leading cause of death.

These woods are home
to squirrels and deer,

but she heads instead
to a nearby creek.

It's teeming with suckerfish,
busy broadcasting thousands of

eggs into the shallow waters.

The eggs provide a great source
of food for smaller fish.

For local bald eagles,
the fish themselves

are the seasonal feast.

These raptors are well
equipped to catch fish.

But wolves are land
hunters, not fishers.

At least, that's
what we thought.

But here in Voyageurs
National Park, just northwest

of Lake Superior,
scientists were

surprised to find wolves
spending an unusual amount

of time along the creeks.

So they tracked them
with GPS collars

and set up hidden cameras
to see what they were up to.

What they found was astonishing.

were doing something
previously unheard of.

These are the first
images ever recorded

of inland wolves fishing.

It's a remarkable display of
ingenuity and adaptation driven

by a seasonal change in food.

The abundance of spring
lures creatures from afar

to make the journey north.

The skyies over the Great
Lakes fill with the calls

of sandhill cranes
and tundra swans,

distant migrants that have
overwintered in warmer climes.

Many birds arrive in May,
having flown thousands of miles

to nest and feed in
the nearby forests.

Strange patterns on a birch
tree reveal one such arrival

from Mexico, a male
woodpecker called

a yellow-bellied sap sucker.

He's here to take
advantage of sweet sap

that flows freely in spring.

And the wasps aren't
far behind him.

His mate is also here,
recognizable by the lack

of a crimson bib.

Their plain-looking fledgling,
already fully grown,

learns by watching its parents.

They drill into some
of the holes made

last year to release the sap.

The youngest sap-sucker
works on the sunny south side

of the tree, where
the sap runs fastest.

But as soon as the
birds strike gold,

they're swarmed
with dinner guests.

Nectar-loving insects benefit
from the birds' hard work.

Butterflies aren't
a problem, but

the stinging wasps and hornets
are annoyingly persistent.

They are also taking a risk.

Some wind up as a bonus
meal for the sap-suckers,

who are quick to grab
the added protein.

This uninvited guest
won't be tolerated.

A ruby-throated hummingbird
waits in the wings.

This lightning
quick aerial artist

has stalked the sap-suckers all
the way from Central America.

Hummingbirds must consume
their body weight in food

every day just to survive.

By following the
sap-suckers, they

get the sweet
nourishment they need

during their long migration.

But when the summer's
blooms arrive,

they'll switch to nectar.

Because he's so fast, the
sap-suckers just ignore him.

But the buffet is getting
a little too crowded.

The birds opt for a new tree
and a little peace and quiet.

On the shores of Lake
Huron's Georgian Bay,

another animal is
having an even tougher

time protecting its home.

Its telltale rattle strikes
fear into the hearts of humans.

This is the northernmost range
of the Eastern Massasauga

rattlesnake, a reptile with
a dangerous yet undeserved

reputation.

They're actually very shy
and avoid human contact.

But that hasn't helped.

People have invaded
their habitat.

Lakefront development
is a serious problem

for a home-loving
creature that rarely

strays more than a mile from
its winter hibernation site.

The species is now under
threat with numbers

falling throughout its range.

But it has one adaptation
that just might save it.

There's a refuge just offshore.

It's a dangerous
journey for a snake that

rarely swims long distances.

But for those that
survive the crossing,

there's a sanctuary to be found.

There are 30,000 islands on Lake
Huron, more than any other lake

in the world.

Many are still secluded,
devoid of humans

and natural predators.

Here on the islands, a
robust community of snakes

has taken hold, among them
a heavily pregnant female

who made it in early spring.

Most snakes lay eggs,
but rattlesnakes

give birth to live young.

They've evolved to retain
their eggs inside their bodies,

an advantage in a cold climate.

Already fully formed
and equipped with venom,

they're ready to face the world.

In fact, the only appendage
that's not developed

is their terror-inducing rattle.

Their mother is
surprisingly maternal.

Massasauga females will
stay with their young

for up to a week, protecting
them from harm until they're

big enough to leave the nest.

Upstream in the
headwaters of Lake Erie

lives an energetic
little hustler

called the redside dace.

In June, the air
along the dace's Creek

fills with the scent of
flowers and the sound

of flying insects.

It's bug heaven.

But danger lurks
just below the water,

a hungry gang of redside dace.

They're insect hunters
with a special talent.

They scan the sky for a
potential winged meal.

As soon as they
lock onto a target,

they launch themselves
like missiles.

The redside dace
is the only fish

in the world that's
evolved to hunt in the air,

catching insects on the wing.

It's the first time
this remarkable behavior

has been filmed.

Flying insects might expect
an aerial attack from above

but have little
defense from below.

The dace can leap almost
one foot into the air.

That's four times
their body length.

Sighting their prey
depends on the crystal

clear waters they inhabit.

Which is why many
populations of redside dace

are now in trouble.

Pollution and
development are clouding

their watery domain, making
it tougher for the dace

to spot their prey.

So this amazing
little fish now needs

our help to protect its home.

Habitat loss is a
problem for many species

on the Great Lakes.

This majestic creature
is no exception.

Some moose populations
in the Great Lakes region

have dropped so low they're
now a protected species.

So the sight of a mother and
calf is cause for celebration.

This youngster is just a few
weeks old and mainly dependent

on it's mother's milk,
which needs to be chock

full of minerals and nutrients.

In winter, there's little
to browse but twigs.

Come spring, the abundance
of new plant growth

lures the moose
out of the woods.

They love aquatic plants,
which provide some of

the tastiest foliage on offer.

But the best is always
hardest to reach.

Moose aren't just
capable swimmers.

They can also dive
for their dinner.

This mum is well equipped
for underwater browsing.

Her large nostrils act as valves
to keep out the water as she

dives as much as 20 feet deep.

This is what she's after--

underwater plants that are
packed with essential minerals

like sodium.

Minerals are water
soluble, so these plants

can contain 50 times the
sodium found in land plants.

Thanks to its mother's
aquatic abilities,

this calf will get all the
nutrients it needs to grow.

Moose have wandered the
Great Lakes watershed

for thousands of years.

They're native to the region.

But there are other species
that just don't belong here.

They're invaders, and we're
the ones that brought them in.

prevented invaders
from entering the Great

Lakes above Lake Ontario.

Now that barrier
has been breached.

Niagara Falls is a 4,000
foot wall of roaring water

plummeting toward
Lake Ontario at speeds

of up to 30 feet per second.

For centuries, these falls
were an insurmountable hurdle

that guarded the rest
of the Great Lakes.

No invasive species could
scale these heights.

All of that changed in the
1930s with the construction

of the Welland Canal, a waterway
designed to bypass the falls.

Now freighters from
around the world

could travel the length and
breadth of the Great Lakes.

And those ships weren't
just delivering goods.

Their bilge water was
filled with dozens

of invasive species.

At the time, the
lakes were teeming

with millions of native fish.

The arrival of this invader
would virtually decimate them--

the sea lamprey, a
primeval jawless fish.

It's an incredibly
aggressive parasite

that attacks other fish.

It grabs hold of its victim with
its suction cup mouth ringed

with razor sharp
teeth, then gouges

a hole in its side to drain
its blood and body fluids.

It can grow more
than three feet long

and attack fish three
times that size.

At the height of its
invasion, the lamprey

wiped out 98% of the commercial
fish stocks in the Great Lakes.

Ever since, scientists have been
engaged in a constant battle

to reduce their numbers.

Anne Scott and Nick Johnson,
biologists from the Great Lakes

Science Station at
Hammond Bay, might have

found a way to do just that.

It's now mid-June, and they're
marking lamprey spawning nests

on a Lake Huron feeder stream.

When they're ready
to spawn, lamprey

rely on their acute
sense of smell

to relocate last year's nests.

They also use scent to
find potential prey.

This is a male lamprey.

NARRATOR: Like Nick.

It came up
through this gravel.

They'll come up to a
fish, and they'll attach.

Their tongue has teeth, too.

Oh.

And it acts like a piston,
going in and out until it bores

a hole right through the flesh.

And it is not very pleasant.

And it's pretty wicked.

It's pretty raw.

It's unlike anything
else I've ever felt.

NARRATOR: But this deadly
assassin has an Achilles heel.

Anne and Nick have
discovered that the lamprey's

incredible sense of
smell might offer a way

to control the population.

The team will deploy a
natural compound that

blocks the lamprey's
ability to smell

without harming other animals.

If it can't pick up the
scent of its nesting site,

then it won't reproduce.

Lamprey spawn at
night, so the team

attaches LED lights that
will help track them when

they're returned to the water.

The next step is to add the
compound into the stream.

That blocks the lamprey's
ability to smell.

Our pump line is not kinked
off anywhere, so we're pumping

into the river, all right?

We're going to open up
our release cage door

and allow the fish
to leave the cage.

Here it goes.

Mine's on the move.

Oh, man.

He just took off.

NARRATOR: If the
lamprey find the nests,

the experiment will fail.

NICK JOHNSON: This lamprey
blew right past all the nests

we marked.

So it really had no interest
in setting up a nest or mating

with any of the lamprey there.

NARRATOR: The
experiment is a success.

None of the released
lamprey can find

their breeding
spots, which is very

good news for the local fish.

Lamprey populations can
explode if left unchecked,

and the team might
have found a way

to prevent that from happening.

But there are still
dozens of other problems

just waiting to be tackled.

Over decades, 180
invasive animal species

have entered the Great Lakes.

Some have been stopped
by native predators,

but many others
continue to disrupt

the region's ecosystems.

And the most disruptive
invader of all

is the one that brought them in.

Humans are the only
animal with the capacity

to destroy vast
swaths of habitat

and alter ecosystems that have
endured for thousands of years.

But while humans may be the
Great Lakes' most powerful

invader, we could
also be the agent

that secures their future.

The actions we take now
to protect this region

and its wildlife will ensure
that these magnificent lakes

and their amazing
ecosystems endure

for another 10,000 streams.