Nature (1982–…): Season 38, Episode 11 - Wild Florida - full transcript

Florida's wildlife is under threats from nature, such as hurricanes and fire, human development and invasive species.

Florida... the Sunshine State.

A paradise of beaches
and backwaters.

And a haven for
original Floridians

far older than the 27th state.



These wild residents know
more than sunny winters.



They know the extremes
of fire and flood...

the fury of storms,

the forces of change.

But a rising human population
and a cast of animal invaders



are now adding to the
challenges they face.

While some are fighting
hard to save them,

the native wildlife is finding
its own ways to adapt.

But can this sunny
corner of the USA

continue to weather
the growing storm?







Florida is a corner of
America that's a state apart.

It dips deep to the south,
almost to the tropics,

and it's the only state affected

by both subtropical
and tropical climates.



So while it's rightly
famous for sunshine...



torrential rains pour down
during the humid summer months.



It's a dynamic mix
that, for millennia,

has supported many creatures
found nowhere else in the US...

and shaped unique habitats.



From pine forests in the north

to the coral reefs
at the Florida Keys...



This is one of the most
biodiverse places in the world.

But perhaps its
most iconic landscape

lies in the south.

The Everglades.

A 1 1/2 million-acre wetland
on Florida's southern tip.



This is the largest subtropical
wilderness in the United States.



It can hold around a
trillion gallons of water,

and it's brimming with life.



Hundreds of marshland
species live here all year round

alongside thousands of
visiting birds in winter and spring.



It's called a "wetland,"

but, in fact, this is a giant,
slow-moving sheet of water,

earning it the name
the "River of Grass."



Winter into early spring
is Florida's dry season.

With almost no rain
and a baking sun,

water levels here
reach their lowest,

and there's a strange
sound in the air.





Male alligators are bellowing.





To find each other in
this vast expanse of water,

they vibrate their larynx
to let out deep growls.

Low-frequency sounds,
inaudible to human hearing,

make the water dance.



It tells other alligators
how big and strong they are,

and it can be heard
over a mile away.



The sound wards
off competitors...



And, hopefully, attracts a mate.

Females can be quick to respond.

But they're not always
quick to pick a partner.

They lead males
into a slow dance

before finally
deciding he's the one.

The wooing can last for days...

with couples mating
multiple times.

But soon, they go
their separate ways.

The males might partner again.

But females now turn their
attention to building a nest.

In just a month's time,

it needs to be
ready for their eggs.

Alligators are so
successful here.

They've dominated this
landscape for millennia.

But now their freshwater
world is under serious attack.



In the last century,

65% of this wetland has
been drained for human use.

More than eight million
people rely on the Everglades

for their drinking water.



But the latest problem
for the native species

is unwanted exotic pets.

Florida's sunny climate

helps non-native
residents thrive here, too.



Perhaps the most destructive

is the Burmese python.

Originally from the jungles
and marshes of Southeast Asia,

a staggering 100,000
of these invasive reptiles

are now estimated to be
thriving in the Everglades.

With few natural predators,

these invaders are
almost unstoppable.



But people are fighting back.



Burmese pythons
came here in the '70s

from the pet trade.

People didn't know
what to do with them,

so they came out
here and let them go.



Licensed python hunting

is now permitted in the
Everglades year round.

They've been eating
their way through

the Everglades National Park.

Literally 98% of the mammals

have been eaten by
these Burmese pythons.

They're eating deer,
they're eating alligators.

We brought them here,
we need to take them out.

And that's what I'm here to do.

Paid contractors patrol

the levees around the Everglades

day and night.



Female pythons can
lay over 100 eggs a year

and grow to be more
than 18 feet long.



Stop! Stop for a second.



Grabbing a big
constrictor like that

is an experience.

You definitely have to go
in, grab it with both hands,

make sure you know
what you're doing.

You don't want it to
wrap around your neck

because it can kill you.



In the first two years
of the removal program,

25 teams took out
almost 2,000 adult snakes.



But there's much
more to be done.

The war that we're fighting

is bigger than the
battle that we're winning.

You're not doing
your pet a favor

by letting them go.

You think, you
know, "Here, be free!

Have fun!"

It doesn't work that way.

Once captured,

the pythons have to
be humanely destroyed.



But as fast as Floridians
tackle one invader,

another appears.

Nile monitors,
Africa's largest lizard,

are eating Florida's
endangered burrowing owls...

while another large lizard,
the tegu from Argentina,

has a taste for the eggs
of indigenous turtles.

There are now more than 500
non-native species living here.



It might seem overwhelming,
but as pressures grow,

people like Donna are vital

to the future of Florida's
native landscapes.



In the dry sand
hills to the north

lies the Apalachicola
region of Florida's panhandle.

Here, residents face a
very different challenge...

To keep one of Florida's
most ancient habitats alive.

It's April, the height
of the dry season

in the longleaf pine forests.

These native trees once
covered much of the state.

But after years of logging,

this is now their
last stronghold.

They grow in open,
light-filled forests

on dry, sandy soils...

A world away from the watery
expanse of the Everglades.

On the forest floor,

one of its most
unassuming residents

is out looking for food.

A gopher tortoise.

The open savanna
beneath the trees

makes it easy to
move around and feed.

But at this time of year,

the wiregrass
is tinderbox dry...



And the weather can
change in an instant.

Florida is the lightning
capital of the United States.

Over a million bolts
strike each year...

and just one can ignite
the parched landscape.



But this isn't the
disaster it looks like.

This forest needs
fire to survive.

The trees can take the heat

as the flames clear the
forest of unwanted scrub.



This allows new
longleaf pine to germinate

and grow without competition.

Everything living
here has to find a way

to cope with the inferno.

Including the gopher tortoise.



He seeks out sandy
soil on higher ground

and uses his shovel-like
feet to dig burrows.

These are a refuge
from the flames.

And it's not just the
tortoise that relies on them.

Over 300 species
use these tunnels

to shelter from
fire, hurricanes,

and all the extremes Florida's
climate can throw at them.

That's why the gopher tortoise

is one the most important
animals in these forests.



But a landscape that needs
fire creates major conflict

in a state with a
growing human presence.

Almost 900 people
move here every day,

adding to a
population of 20 million.

To protect homes,
lightning-strike fires

must be put out immediately.



We can't have fires

just moseying
around the landscape.

There is people that
would be in harm's way,

there are houses, and people's
livelihoods would be affected.



To keep longleaf forests alive,

here burns are man-made
and carefully managed

by organizations like
The Nature Conservancy.

Fire needs to be addressed,

really, anywhere,
through prescribed fire.

We have to manage the
fire, we have to keep it safe.

However, we do our best to mimic
what Mother Nature would've done

with naturally ignited fires.

The idea of fire is an
ecological disturbance,

but that really puts
a negative spin on it.

This chaotic, seemingly
destructive force

is Mother Nature's
great rejuvenator.

Fire has been a
feature of this landscape

for millennia,

and by keeping the
natural cycle alive,

Floridians are leading the way

in controlled fire management
across the United States.

They've reduced
the risk of wildfires

and restored thousands
of acres of longleaf pine...



A unique habitat

that more than 900
species call home.





In a state where landscapes
naturally need to burn,

waterways provide
essential fire breaks.

Flowing through this
longleaf stronghold

is the mighty
Apalachicola River.



It's one of 20 major
rivers in the state

that create the enchanting
swamps and wetlands

Florida is famous for.



Trillions of gallons
of rain fall each year...



And even in the dry season,

few rivers ever
run completely dry.



And that includes
Florida's network

of more than 700 warm springs.



This is Silver River
in central Florida.

It's one of the largest
freshwater springs

in the United States.

20 million gallons of
water flow out of the ground

every hour.

Enriched with
minerals from the earth,

the spring water
is crystal clear.

It's a balmy 72
degrees Fahrenheit

all year round,

which attracts one of the
state's most magical animals.



A Florida manatee.



They spend most of their
lives around the coast...



But can't survive in water
cooler than 68 degrees.



So in winter, they head
inland to Florida's springs.



It's so warm and shallow here

that algae blooms
on their backs.



They were critically endangered,

partly because routes
to warm waters like these

were blocked by
increasing development.



But thanks to efforts
across the state,

by 2016, their numbers
exceeded 8,000.

They're becoming a
common sight once again.



But this winter refuge
doesn't just attract manatees.

Resident and migratory birds
come here to rear their young.

And as spring unfolds,

the river banks become
a nursery ground.

Parents must be
on their guard...



As danger is never far away.





This moorhen has
seven young chicks...



And they're all
eager to explore.



They don't realize
the peril they're in.





As one finds out too late.



These baby alligators
are last year's hatchlings,

and at eight months old,

they're already expert
ambush predators.



As new life here blossoms,

adults and their
young make the most

of the calm weather.

All too soon, things
are going to change.



June marks the
arrival of summer.



And here in Florida,

the sun's powerful
energy bites back.



Every day, as temperatures rise,

humidity builds and clashes

with cooler air high
up in the atmosphere.

Every afternoon, like clockwork,
the clouds dump their contents.



The wet season has begun...



Dousing Florida in
60% of its annual rainfall

in just four months.





The rain restores
sunbaked landscapes...



Fire scarred forests,

and fills the
Everglades to their brim.



With an average of 60
inches of rainfall each year,

the Everglades is now
the wettest place in Florida,

and this is the most important
time of the year for alligators.

Tucked away
amongst the saw grass,

alligator nests have
been incubating eggs

for two months now.

They're built around
the roots of small trees,

which anchor them
as water levels rise.

A female guards each one,

patiently waiting for
her young to emerge.

And by August, the first
babies have hatched.

At just a week old, they're
perfectly camouflaged.

Bright yellow stripes
make them invisible

among the dried grasses
the nest is built around.

At this age, they
spend their days

close together in pods...

under the gaze of
their watchful mother.



Only eight inches long,
they're defenseless,

an easy meal for a passing
bird or hungry male alligator.



But when darkness falls,

these hatchlings
show a different side.



With fewer predators around,

the youngsters take
on a new confidence.



They break away from
their pods and set out alone.

And while they might look
cute, even at this tender age,

they already have
the instinct to hunt.





Their mother will protect
them, but she won't feed them...



So they have to get
the hang of it fast.



They hunt all
through the night...



Pouncing on their prey
of tiny insects and fish

with not-quite-expert
precision just yet.





They'll perfect these
skills over the next year

until they're big
enough to go it alone.



With the deluge of summer rains,

there's now a lot more
water on the move.



And it runs into a problem.

Highway 41.



Built in the 1920s,
before people realized

the Everglades was a
moving sheet of water,

this road intersects the
vast wetland east to west

and inadvertently
stops the flow.



It's thought that disruption
to water levels like this

is responsible for
the disappearance

of 90% of the
area's wading birds.



In an attempt to
restore the flow,

giant pumps shift billions
of gallons of water...



And raised bridges

allow the water to
course once more.



This helps the animals...

And also the people
who live around its edge.

The Everglades is a giant,
natural storm defense,

its grassy innards
able to soak up

vast amounts of
water and energy.



This reduces flooding and damage
to property when hurricanes hit.



And as the summer
heat intensifies,

it becomes a certainty these
giant storms will start to form.





So before they do,

the last of the seasonal
visitors must depart.



Swallow-tailed kites have
been here since March.



Two-thirds of the North
American population

comes to Florida
each year to breed.



Courting, feeding, drinking,

and even bathing on the wing...



The feet of these
extraordinary birds

almost never touch the ground.





They're about to make
the 5,000-mile journey

to their winter feeding
grounds in South America...

and the birds gather
en masse to prepare.



As they store up
energy for the flight,

it's vital they
aren't disturbed,

so they roost in remote
places, far from people.

After a morning bath, the
kites preen their feathers

to keep them in condition
for the long journey to come.





They appear to sense
atmospheric changes

as hurricanes begin to approach.



But far from avoiding
these storms,

researchers suggest the birds
capitalize on their headwinds.



And when the time is
right, they take flight.



Hundreds, even
thousands, soar above roosts

at this time of year.



Their journey south can
take up to four months...

and there's time
for one last feed.

Now the birds head straight
to a landscape created by us.

Agricultural pastures
are alive with insects.



And this is where their
forked tails come in.



They use them as a rudder.







They discard the wings

and fuel up on the
protein-rich bodies of their prey.









Once they've had their fill,

it's finally time to leave.



Their roosts are
left eerily empty.

Florida's indigenous tribes

call them the "leaders
of the hurricanes."

As they vanish,
the storms roll in.

Fueled by the summer sun,

they've been forming
thousands of miles away,

far out in the Atlantic.

Rising temperatures have
warmed the ocean surface,

and as warm air
rises from the water,

it lifts moisture with it,
creating giant stacks of clouds.



As more air is sucked in below,

winds begin to spiral inward,

and a vortex is formed.

The storm travels,

gathering strength
from the warmth below.

When its winds reach
74 miles per hour,

it becomes an unstoppable force.



A hurricane is unleashed.

The warmest waters create a path

for these monster
storms to follow.

This is Hurricane Alley,

and it brings many of them
barreling straight into Florida.



This state has experienced
more direct hits by hurricanes

than anywhere else
in North America.

And they're getting stronger.

Research tells us
human-induced climate change

is a driving force.

Our oceans are the
hottest they've been

since records began.

And this energy makes hurricanes
more powerful than ever before.

When Hurricane
Michael struck in 2018,

it was one of the
most powerful storms

to ever make
landfall in Florida.



With winds of
155 miles per hour,

Michael flattened entire towns
and ravaged the landscape.







The longleaf pine
forests in Apalachicola

faced the full
force of the storm.



Yet remarkably, not only
do these trees cope with fire,

they can withstand
hurricanes too.



Where non-native species
have snapped and fallen,

the longleaf pines' supple
trunks have bent with the winds.

Young growth
has also survived...





And the animals here have
weathered the storm, too.

The gopher tortoise's
burrow on higher ground

has once more provided
shelter for many forest creatures.

This is where native
Florida comes into its own.

Its plants and animals
are evolved to cope

with the harshest
forces of nature.

And these specially
adapted, native survivors

can be found across the state.



At the southernmost
tip lies the Florida Keys,

an archipelago of
more than 1,700 islands

stretching south
towards the tropics.



Almost in the Caribbean,

the islands are linked
together by bridges...

a tropical paradise for
marine life and people alike.

But just a year before
Hurricane Michael...

there was Irma,

a giant Category 4 storm that
stripped mangrove trees bare...

and contaminated fresh water
with salt across the lower Keys.

Residents feared one of the
Keys' most precious animals

had been lost.

Yet remarkably, it's holding on.



These are Key deer,

a tiny, beautiful sub-species
of white-tailed deer,

found only on these islands.



At just 28 inches tall,

they're a third smaller
than their mainland cousins.



Scientists are unsure
how they survived Irma,

but almost 1,000 live across

a cluster of
islands in the Keys.



And even in the aftermath

of increasingly
powerful hurricanes,

they're finding ways to adapt.



With many of their
feeding grounds destroyed,

the Key deer are now
making themselves at home

in urban areas.







Happy to have them around,

some residents provide
fresh drinking water.



But this reliance on
humans is far from ideal.



It brings them
closer to roads...



And a threat more
lethal than hurricanes...

Cars.





From the tropical Keys...

to the streets of Miami,

the growing presence of humans

is the latest unstoppable
force facing the state.



And despite its rising extremes,

Florida's appeal doesn't
seem to be fading.



Tourism brings in
100 million people

to its shores each year

and accounts for almost
20% of employment.

But it's not without costs
to the natural environment.



Beneath the waves,

the Keys hide a
unique attraction.

The Florida Reef Tract.

It's the third-largest
barrier reef in the world

and the only one
in North America.



But pressure on this
delicate habitat is mounting.





As a barrier reef,

it's another vital
natural defense,

absorbing the
impact of storm surges

before they hit land.



Historically, these storms
sheared off pieces of coral

that would reattach elsewhere,
creating a healthier reef.

But now, as storms
are getting stronger,

the reef doesn't have enough
time to recover between them.

And alongside
pressure from human use

and our rapidly warming oceans,

the Florida Reef Tract
needs urgent help.



Scientists are stepping in.

If Florida lost the Florida
Reef Tract completely,

it's likely that we would
see a place like Florida Keys

completely washed away.

The Coral Restoration Foundation

is leading the way in saving
reefs around the world.



The main corals
that we worked with

are staghorn and elkhorn,

and the reason
why we started there

is those are the dominant
corals that were found in Florida.

They've actually lost about
97% of their populations,

so we've really
focused our efforts

into growing thousands
upon thousands of these corals

in a nursery setting.

They've developed
a pioneering system.

By suspending coral
fragments in the water column,

they give them 360
degrees of food and sunlight.



This speeds up growth

and produces new
coral to restore the reef.

So, we'll actually harvest
them when they're ready

from the nursery, and
then we'll attach them

directly onto the reef substrate

in a process that
we call outplanting.

Once we have a clean
area or clean limestone,

we then use this
two-part marine epoxy,

and we attach that
epoxy to the reef,

and then we gently press the
coral directly into that epoxy.

The fragments fuse
with exposed limestone,

forming new reef.



By growing a genetically
diverse mix of corals,

the team hopes that at least
some will be able to withstand

the different threats
the reef may face,

giving it the best chance
of survival in the future.



They've planted more
than 70,000 fragments

in the past decade.

It's now widely understood

that active intervention
is a necessity.

We're past the tipping point

where they could
recover naturally.

So, the point of a
restoration program

is to produce the
abundance of corals

and the diversity of
corals that these reefs need

to be able to keep up with
their changing environments.



In spite of the
growing pressures,

people like Jessica...

Donna...

and David are
pioneering new ways

to help Florida's
native landscapes...



Putting them in a better place

to stand fast on the
front lines of change.



Florida is a state evolved
to survive extremes,

and for now its animals and
landscapes are holding on.



But finding a future that works

for both people
and wildlife here

could be the greatest challenge

this sunny corner of
paradise has ever faced.