Madagascar (2011): Season 1, Episode 2 - Lost Worlds - full transcript

Madagascar. An ancient island
adrift in the Indian Ocean.

Its animals and plants in isolation
for millions of years

have evolved in their own way
so that now over 80% of them

are unlike any others
anywhere else in the world.

And by far the greatest
concentration of its
highly specialised wildlife

is found here, among the mountains
and rainforests of the east.

A journey down these eastern slopes
from isolated mountain peaks
to tropical shorelines

reveals the huge variety
of this islands' wildlife.

160 million years ago,

Madagascar lay
between Africa and India

within a much larger
super-continent called Gondwana.



As this giant landmass
slowly broke apart,

the upheavals created a
1,000-mile-long range of mountains

that stretched
the length of Madagascar.

Separating west from east,
the Andringitra Highlands

are one of the high points
along this rocky backbone.

Over 2,500 metres high,
they rise like inland islands
far above the surrounding plains.

Over an immense span of time, these
huge granite domes and plateaux
have been sculpted by the elements.

The climate on these isolated tops
is the most extreme
found on this tropical island.

The days are scorching hot,

the nights bitterly cold.

It appears deserted,
and yet there is life here.

Usually found in warm forests, a few
small troops of ring-tailed lemurs

make their home in this desolate,
windswept place.

To combat the cold,
they have evolved larger bodies



and much thicker coats
than their lowland relatives.

And they have another trick
up their sleeves.

After spending the freezing nights
huddled together in a crevice,

they start the day
with a spot of sunbathing.

Only drought-loving plants like
aloe and cactus can survive
in this high-altitude desert.

During the dry season,
these succulent plants are the
lemurs' only source of moisture.

It may be a tough,
hand to mouth existence,

but they have
few competitors up here.

Even so, venturing out
on these exposed summits

is not without its dangers.

Madagascar buzzards
are quite capable

of snatching an unwary lemur.

LEMUR BARKS

A barked alarm call
sends them all scuttling for cover.

BARKING CONTINUES

Ring-tailed lemurs are just
as suited to life on the ground
as up in the trees,

and that makes them
far more adaptable than most
of Madagascar's lemurs.

Several troops of ring-tails manage
to make a living in these highlands.

Some of the luckier ones occupy
a more sheltered valley where a few
trees have managed to take root.

Morning fog condensing on leaves
is an important source of water.

Although the mornings still
have a chill to them,
life here seems more relaxed.

But also more crowded.

Pied crows need to be moved on,
not least because there are some
vulnerable arrivals in the troop.

Almost every female
is carrying an infant,

an indication that life is
comparatively easy up here.

With more protection
from the elements

and a little more food,
this troop is particularly large

and can devote plenty of time
to their social lives.

One female even has twins.

A rare event
amongst ring-tailed lemurs

and a direct result
of a good food supply.

But this valley troop
still has to work hard to collect
food in this broken landscape.

Few lemurs are
such good rock-climbers.

There's a real bonanza
at this time of year.

While some gather canopy fruits,
the mother of the twins stays
lower and gathers fresh leaves.

The young
are born during the fruiting season

when demands on the mothers
are heaviest.

After such a heavy meal
the troop head off in search
of their next course...

a daily dose of dirt.

Eating soil
is thought to help with digestion,

but it also provides minerals
and even helps the lemurs to cope
with troublesome gut parasites.

These troops are becoming
even more isolated as farmers
push up into the high valleys.

Now surrounded by rice paddies,
these highland lemurs are marooned
in their mountaintop islands.

Here,
away from the rest of their kind,

they have had to adapt
in order to survive.

It's a story that's repeated
all across these eastern mountains.

Each peak is effectively an island,

and each is home to its own unique
collection of animals and plants.

This mountain range
is home to one of these rarities -

the Andringitra jewelled chameleon.

Swollen with eggs,
this female is on a mission.

As the rainy season approaches,
she begins to dig.

The only safe place for her clutch
is deep underground.

But her first attempt
ends in disaster.

Unearthing an ants' nest
is not a good start.

She moves on and tries again.

She needs to find
just the right spot.

Her eggs will remain hidden here
for several months.

It takes her
a whole day to excavate the nest.

Finally she reverses in
and lays around a dozen eggs.

It becomes a race against time
to get the eggs under cover.

She carefully hides her tracks.

And then
she abandons her eggs to their fate.

Madagascar's mountainous spine
is the reason the island's
eastern side is so wet.

It blocks the tropical winds
blowing in from the Indian Ocean.

As the warm, moisture-ladened air
hits this barrier

rain condenses from the clouds
and drenches these slopes.

Over five metres
can fall here in a year.

Rain-swollen torrents pour over
giant steps towards the ocean.

They descend into a richer, greener,
more enclosed world.

The mist-shrouded Marojejy mountains
lie in the north-east of the island.

These cloud forests are a rich,
many-layered world

that offers huge
opportunities for life to flourish.

One bird dominates the dark tangle
of the under-storey.

It's another
of Madagascar's many oddities.

The Helmet Vanga.

And these wet eastern forests
are its only home.

Why the Helmet Vanga possesses
such a vivid blue bill is a mystery.

But it's certainly a lethal weapon.

Vangas are ambush hunters,
pouncing on ground-living millipedes

or snatching cicadas and lizards
from tree trunks.

Around 20 species of vanga live
on the island, all descended
from a single ancestral species

that became isolated here
millions of years ago.

There's a much more ghostly presence
in these tangled forests, too.

The high canopy is home to one
of the world's rarest primates.

There may only be 200 silky sifakas
in existence.

Extremely sensitive to disturbance,

these large lemurs
have retreated to the region's
most inaccessible valleys.

Leaves and flowers make up
the bulk of their diet,

but such food is difficult to digest

and they take
long rests after each meal.

However, these essential halts
do give them time to indulge
their gentle, playful natures.

The whole family
gets drawn into the games.

Even the older members,
distinguished by their paler faces.

As with most lemurs, the female
sifakas are only sexually receptive

for just one or two days each year,

so it's crucial for the males to
keep a very close check on them.

The females leave
scent-marks on the tree trunks.

And the dominant males
are quick to move in
and check the subtle messages.

They can't afford to miss
the one opportunity
in the year to father a baby.

The name lemur means
"spirits of the dead"

and with only a few hundred of
these brilliant white sifakas left,

the name here
could be only too prophetic.

Lower down the mountains,
cloud forest gives way
to warmer, wetter rainforests.

Great clumps of bamboo thrive in
the tropical heat and damp.

The tangle of bowed and broken poles
creates a natural climbing frame,

a playground for one of Madagascar's
most specialised group of animals.

Bamboo lemurs
are Madagascar's pandas,

depending almost entirely on
this over-grown grass for food.

Bamboo is tough and woody,
hard to chew let alone digest.

But hardest of all,
the leaves of some species are
packed full of cyanide.

Yet three species of bamboo lemur
live here eating
these plants day in, day out.

Two of them favour parts
of the plant low in poison.

But the third,
the golden bamboo lemur,

is the real specialist.

It eats the tips of new leaves
that are loaded with cyanide.

It's not known
how they cope with the poison

but they can tolerate up to
12 times a normally lethal dose.

Only through these
subtle differences in diet

can all three species share
the same small patch of rainforest.

Bamboo thrives here because
this part of Madagascar
is very wet throughout the year.

And these lower eastern slopes
are exposed to the
full fury of the cyclone season.

For a few months each year
these powerful tropical storms sweep
straight in from the Indian Ocean.

Lasting for days, they create paths
of destruction across the island

and pour huge amounts of water
onto these forests.

But for the bamboo lemurs, these
dark clouds have a silver lining.

In their wake, something peculiar
starts springing up
all over the forest floor.

It's what the lemurs
have been waiting for all year -

bamboo shoots.

The greater bamboo lemurs,
in particular,
find these spikes irresistible.

These new shoots are particularly
rich in sugary sap.

It might take half an hour or more
to consume a single shoot.

These bamboo-loving primates
are one of the most
highly specialized animals

to have evolved
during Madagascar's long isolation.

But this has left them vulnerable
as their forest home disappears.

As few as 1,000 of them now live in
these dappled bamboo thickets.

The dense canopy means little
light reaches the forest floor.

To survive in this shadowy world,
animals need to blend in.

At just three centimetres long,
this brown leaf chameleon is
one of the smallest of its family.

Its long, flattened body
gives it excellent camouflage

as it hunts among the debris
of the forest floor.

Today, it's also getting some help
from upon high.

This mess is being created
by the largest of Madagascar's
80 odd lemurs...

the indri.

An unlikely ally
for the tiny chameleon.

The fallen fruit
is the perfect bait,

attracting all sorts of insects,
including swarms of fruit flies.

But
this tiny predator has its sights
set on something a little larger.

A cockroach.

As night falls, the forest floor
becomes a different world,

where smell and sound
and touch are the primary guides.

A family of striped tenrecs starts
truffling through the dead leaves.

They may look like hedgehogs, but
tenrecs are unique to Madagascar

and these striped tenrecs
are only found here
in these eastern rainforests.

One of the youngsters
has been distracted by the discovery
of a particularly juicy worm.

A tenrec's teeth
are small but needle-sharp

and well suited to dealing with
this soft slippery food.

By the time it's subdued
its struggling prey,
the rest of the family has moved on.

This is not a good place
to be out on your own in the dark.

It needs to get back to its family,

but how to find them
in the tangled undergrowth?

They have a unique solution -

specialised quills on their backs.

HIGH-PITCHED GRATING

As these quills rub together,

they create a high-pitched noise
that cuts through
the din of the forest.

It acts like a homing beacon,
guiding wayward offspring
back into the fold.

These are the only mammals in the
world to communicate in this way.

Eastwards again
towards the coastal lowlands.

VARIOUS BIRDS CALL

All that stands in the way
are the last cliffs and
ravines of the escarpments.

As the gradient slackens,
the rivers slow and spread.

Down here the forests
are even more luxuriant.

It's so wet
that some tree frogs don't need
to lay their eggs in water.

Instead, they stick them to
the underside of leaves,
well out of reach of hungry fish.

In less than a week, they've
already developed into tadpoles.

They mature very quickly...

..but not quite fast enough
in this case.

The most unlikely of predators has
stumbled on these clumps of spawn.

The protective jelly
merely slows down the wasp's
smash and grab tactics.

The wasps return again, and again,

chewing up tadpoles before taking
them back to their own nest.

And yet the tadpoles
aren't entirely helpless.

By the time they are only
five days old they are already

able to react to the vibrations
created by the hunting wasps.

They hatch prematurely when
stressed like this

and as the jelly liquefies,

the tadpoles
dribble down to the leaf-tip
and into the water below.

They may be under-developed,
but they can swim well enough

to give themselves at least a
fighting chance away from the
jaws of the wasps circling above.

These lowland forests are full of
sinister and unlikely predators.

Some plants have become meat-eaters.

The shores of Lac Ampitabe
are thick with pitcher plants.

Their closest relatives
are found in Indonesia,

a place last connected to Madagascar
80 million years ago.

The liquid-filled cups
are modified leaves.

Insects are attracted by the plant's
bright patterns and sweet nectar.

But it's a fatal attraction.

The rim of the pitchers
is very slippery.

And the sap
appears to have a narcotic effect.

Once trapped inside,
there's no escape.

Prey is slowly dissolved
in the soup of enzymes
secreted by the plant.

On this island of specialists,
some creatures have even
made this unwelcome place home.

Ants live in and around
the pitchers,

collecting nectar from the rim.

Day geckos also sip at the
sweet liquid and hunt the insects
attracted to the plants.

The ridged soles of their feet
make them super-sticky,

able to grip on
just about any surface.

But there are still dangers
around these pitchers.

Striped snakes
love this tangle of vegetation...

..and eating geckos.

At the first hint of danger, the
geckos retreat to the nearest cover.

An old dried-up pitcher
is an excellent refuge.

In these forests staying safe
is often best done
by keeping a low profile.

But Paradise flycatchers
are hard to miss.

CHICKS CHIRP

And with their nest
just a metre off the ground,

the chicks are vulnerable
to snakes and other birds.

Flycatchers, like many birds,
have a trick that reduces

the chance of
their nest being discovered.

The chicks enclose their waste
in white faecal sacs.

Just dumped over the side
of the nest,

these would attract a lot of
unwelcome attention, so the
adults collect and dispose of them.

Others living in this forest
don't seem to mind
being the centre of attention.

This big, noisy bird is
Madagascar's very own cuckoo.

CUCKOO CALLS

All these calls are directed
at its tiny foster parents.

Having disposed of their young
long ago,

this super-sized impostor
is monopolizing their attention.

They seem unable to resist
its incessant demands.

But now that the cuckoo is nearly
full grown,

their exhausting ordeal
will soon be over.

These lowland forests also
contain a curious throw-back -

a plant that reveals a link

to a time when Madagascar was still
connected to mainland Africa.

The Traveller's Tree is only found
in Madagascar, but its closest

relatives are the bird of paradise
flowers growing in Southern Africa.

Over on the mainland,

those plants are pollinated
by nectar-feeding birds.

But in Madagascar,
the Traveller's tree has evolved

to attract another pollinator.

Not a bird,
but something altogether stranger.

The large flowers produce
huge amounts of sugary nectar

and they are tough enough
to withstand rough handling.

And they need to be
when aye-ayes come calling.

It may not look much like one,
but the aye-aye is a lemur.

As it feeds, its snout becomes
coated with pollen,

which it then carries
to other Traveller's Trees

as it makes its nightly
rounds of the forest.

For the aye-aye,
nectar is just a passing fancy.

What's really shaped their
extraordinary appearance

is a love of beetle grubs.

Its large ears, gnawing teeth
and long, thin fingers

are all beautifully adapted
to detect

and winkle out juicy larvae from
under the bark of rainforest trees.

In a few places, the rainforest
extends right down to the ocean.

The largest stretch left
in Madagascar grows

on the remote Masoala peninsula
in the north of the island.

Here, there are hundreds of
square miles of pristine jungle.

Growing right next to the ocean
brings its own particular
challenges.

The forest trees must cope
with shifting sandy soils

and being regularly showered
with salty spray.

Nonetheless, the forest
is full of wildlife.

Standing water can be hard to find
here because the sandy soil
drains so quickly.

That makes life very difficult
for frogs looking for somewhere
to lay their eggs.

But storm-damaged bamboo stalks
provide the solution.

These rain-filled reservoirs
are communal meeting places

for Madagascar's unique
golden bamboo frogs.

In the breeding season,
this community spirit breaks down

as individual males compete
for the water-filled stems

and start calling to attract mates.

In response, females are drawn
to the males and their bamboo pools.

This female is a late arrival on the
scene and she needs to be very wary.

Another female has been here,
and there's already
a tadpole in residence.

There's very little food in these
pools, and the last thing she wants

is her valuable egg to end up
feeding another female's tadpole.

So she rejects the males' advances
and moves on.

Eventually, she finds an unoccupied
pool where she can be sure
of laying the first egg.

And she has a way of getting
around the shortage of food, too.

Once her egg has hatched,
she will return repeatedly

to lay an infertile egg
on which her tadpole will feed.

This is a highly competitive world.

Predatory birds like
couas and Madagascar coucals
have leaf geckos on their menu.

But first they have to find them.

These geckos are able to stay
absolutely motionless.

Some have evolved ragged fringes
around their bodies to help

break up their tell-tale outline.

The largest,
up to 30 centimetres long,

hide on favourite
tree-trunks that match

their particular skin colouration.

But as night falls,
they are transformed.

The hunted become hunters.

Now it's not about camouflage,
but stealth and surprise.

Their huge eyes help them track prey
in the darkness.

Large mouths packed with sharp teeth
help them tackle difficult prey,

but not necessarily to deal
with smaller pests.

Their sight is 350 times
more sensitive than the human eye.

These geckos can see colour
even in the dimmest moonlight.

They have no eyelids, so licking
is the only way to keep
their eyes clean.

This caterpillar
apparently doesn't taste good.

But a bad taste
doesn't stop the gecko
getting in a little retaliation.

The richness of these coastal
forests is unrivalled on the island.

Although the Masoala rainforest
covers only 2% of Madagascar's

surface, over half of all
the species found on the island
are thought to live here.

The tallest trees of the peninsula's
most remote valleys are home

to one of its most spectacular
inhabitants.

Red-ruffed lemurs are big and noisy.

This troupe has hit the jackpot -
two trees, a fig and a harami,

practically next door to each other
and both loaded with ripe fruit.

With so few seed-eating birds on
the island, the trees rely on lemurs

like the red-ruffs to disperse
their seeds through the forest.

After gorging all morning,
the clan settles down nearby
to sleep off their lunch.

But while most doze,
one lemur stays behind.

It's his job to guard
the trees from fruit-robbers.

And in such a rich forest a fruiting
tree quickly becomes a magnet
for other interested parties.

Madagascar green pigeons
are quickly seen off.

A vasa parrot has slipped in
under the lemur's guard.

But it makes little impact
on the supply of figs.

Others need to be watched
more carefully.

A gang of white-fronted brown lemurs
have spotted the fruiting trees
and want a share.

The males have striking white caps
and they lead the raid.

It takes the red-ruffed guardian
a while to catch on to
what's happening.

The brown lemurs are quick
and agile.

And with ten of them
and one of him, it's not that easy
to get control of the situation.

By the time he's finally seen
them off, the rest of the clan

are on their way back
to feed in the harami tree.

With food just an arm's length away,
these particular lemurs appear
to be living the good life...

at least for the moment.

But red-ruffed lemurs
are only found in this
one stretch of coastal rainforest.

Their extreme specialisation,

developed over millions of years,

enables them to exploit every
opportunity that this forest offers.

But it also comes at a heavy cost.

It leaves them vulnerable
if that opportunity disappears.

The few miles that separate
Madagascar's highest mountains from

these tropical shores are crowded
with animals and plants trapped
in their own very narrow world.

And with these eastern forests
rapidly disappearing,
these unique worlds

and their extraordinary inhabitants
may soon be lost forever.

Working in Madagascar's most
isolated corners is
a real challenge and

this trip to film red-ruffed lemurs
proved to be one of the hardest.

For this shoot, cameraman
John Brown and producer Ian Gray

have been joined by expert
tree-climbers Tim and Pam Fogg.

They will be responsible for
getting John into the forest canopy
where these rare lemurs live.

The easiest way onto
the Masoala peninsula,
a four-hour ride in a fast boat.

The crew rendezvous with their local
guides at a little-used research
station on this isolated coast.

They need to be entirely
self-sufficient while working here.

Home sweet home.

That's the toilet. Nice.

Luxurious. Lovely.

Better than the huts outside.

Red-ruffed lemurs are endangered
and these forested mountains
are their last refuge.

It might seem like looking
for a needle in a haystack,
but the crew have a cunning plan.

Uphill all the way.

Red-ruffed lemurs love to eat fruit,
so find a fruiting tree

and the red-ruffs
shouldn't be too far behind.

This is a cruel hill.

You just look up
and it just goes on.

On and on. Hundreds of metres.

It's a brute.

Then, on the second day of
searching, they get a lucky break.

That tree looks like it's loaded
with fruits.

Can't see any lemurs though.

No. It's a lovely tree though.
It is.

Those are definitely red-ruffs...
aren't they?

Over there somewhere I think.

This is encouraging.
It's only the second day and things
are looking distinctly promising.

We've lucked out, finally. We've
found a big fruiting harami tree

just over the ridge here and there
are red ruffs working in these trees.

And the best thing is there's another
tree next door to it which we think
we can get the platform into.

We'll see what tomorrow brings.

Rain. Lots of it.

And this is supposed
to be the dry season.

The tropical paradise is suddenly
losing some of its glamour.

Hoping the rain will soon pass, the
crew heads off into the forest to

rig the filming platform so that
it's ready when the weather
improves.

But if anything,
the rain is getting worse.

The hardest part
is getting a line up into the tree.

This will be used to pull up a rope,

and then haul up the filming
platform and fix it in place.

30 metres up, this will put John
level with the lemurs as they feed.

By the end of a very wet day,

the only camera still working
is on a mobile phone.

It's a bedraggled team
that arrives back at camp.

Oh, dear.

Everything
has been thoroughly soaked.

The crucial thing now is to try
and get the cameras dried out.

What's really annoying
is you kind of know that

the animals that we've come
halfway round the world to film

are probably doing exactly what we
want them to be doing,

and looking fantastic
somewhere up a tree.

♪ When it rains five days

♪ And the skies turn
dark as night... ♪

All anyone can do
is to be patient

and hope for a change
in the weather.

♪ When it rains five days

♪ And the skies turn dark as night

♪ Then trouble's taking place

♪ And you know everything
ain't right. ♪

After eight long days,
there's a small break in the clouds

so it's quickly back up the hill
once again and onto the platform.

This is day eight of the shoot,
and so far I've shot about

two minutes of film and it looks
like there's another storm coming

in across the bay that I can see.

As the storm breaks,
being up a tree on a metal platform
doesn't seem to be a good idea.

THUNDER RUMBLES
Time for another hasty retreat.

So far, I'm not sure we're going
to get what we need,

but we'll just keep trying,

cos, well, erm, what else can we do?

Desperate times call
for desperate measures.

The key thing is to get
rid of the condensation
without melting the lens.

Day nine.

It's stopped raining.

No it hasn't! It's still raining,
and it rained all night, and we're
all going absolutely stir crazy.

Doy-ing!

I see why you married him!

I think all of us could do
with seeing the sun
and getting dry underwear on.

That would make life a lot better.

Finally, the storm fronts
blow through.

It's time for one last slog
back up to the platform.

So after ten days of trials and
tribulations and a lot of rain,

we've finally
got John up in the tree.

So now all we need now are the
red-ruffs to come and do their
stuff.

I can hear them calling already,
so hopefully that's a good sign.

We're having a very strange
meteorological phenomenon

known as blue sky, and the lemurs
have been in

and feeding and sunbathing,
and it's been just such a relief.

So yeah, it's amazing what
a difference the weather makes.

In the next episode,
we cross Madagascar's mountains

into the southwest of the island,
a land that is gripped by dryness
for most of the year.

Among these dramatic landscapes

lives some of the strangest wildlife
of all.