Nature (1982–…): Season 39, Episode 9 - Pumas: Legends of the Ice Mountains - full transcript

Patagonia.

♪

Land of the pumas.

Realm of the condor.

♪

Icy air, warm eyes.

♪

Four puma kittens are born
to a successful huntress.

It is a land of extremes.

♪

Of beauty.



♪

Of surprises.

♪

It is the land of
Torres del Paine,

in Southern Chile,

where the blue ice
mountains tower

over this single
puma family bloodline.

♪

♪

If you follow the footprints
near the end of the world,

they will lead you to the
high mountains of Chile.

♪

It's where the
ever-present wind seems

to whisper of an
ancient heartbeat.



♪

Myths speak of one
who rules the land here...

♪

And these cats, that
are perfectly adapted

to living in this
frigid landscape.

♪

♪

They are pumas,

the legends of
the ice mountains.

They're a symbol of
power and strength

to so many cultures
in their range.

♪

And the land they guard

stretches all the
way down the Andes,

the 5,000 miles of the
Cordillera de los Andes.

♪

It is in Chile,

just inland from the
great Southern Ice Fields,

one of the largest freshwater
reserves in the world,

that our story begins.

It is also here that the great
Andean condor rules the skies

above this mountainous
backbone of South America.

♪

The same ancient
myths claim that,

while the pumas rule the land,

condors are the messengers
of the gods in the heavens.

And no story is complete
without heaven and earth,

and here, the two seem to meet.

It's a place called
Torres del Paine.

♪

The shadows of
the condor's wings

touch one particular
family of pumas today.

♪

We'll call her Solitaria.

She is sleek and gracious

and seems to be always
searching the horizon for clues.

Caracaras are often the first
birds to descend onto carrion.

It may be what she's after.

The cubs are about
three months old,

just about time for them to
venture out into the world,

after their mother.

It'll flood their senses
with scents and sounds,

with tempting sights
of things to chase.

One cub is particularly close.

It doesn't make
Solitaria's job any easier.

False alarm.

She'll have to go off hunting.

Out here in these
Patagonian foothills,

the wind is constant,

and that makes sneaking around
much more difficult for a puma.

No story of Torres
del Paine is complete

without that of the
herds of guanacos.

♪

A sentinel aims his
nose into the wind.

Despite being very prolific,

with probably half a million
of them in South America,

guanacos have a
unique problem...

and it makes them adapt
in a very specific way.

♪

They gather at exactly
the right time of day,

at exactly the right
month, to start a ritual...

To give birth.

It happens a few hours
before midday and a few after,

in November, in
the heat, each year.

♪

They've fine-tuned
this as an adaptation

because guanacos have
tongues that are just too short

to extend beyond their lips,

so they simply cannot
lick a newborn clean.

♪

Birthing is perfectly timed
so he can dry out on his own.

♪

It's a male chulengo, and he
has just 10 minutes to stand.

Only one in four of them
will make it to their first year,

through the gauntlet
of pumas that live here.

♪

♪

It's a tense few
hours for the herd.

♪

But the little chulengo
makes the cutoff time,

albeit not terribly elegantly,

but it's a good start
to his next 25 years.

♪

And these are the events
that condors look out for,

the other three of the
four that don't make it.

♪

Solitaria is on
the move again...

♪

Following the birds.

This time, it pays off.

♪

The kittens are about
to be introduced to meat

for the first time.

It's someone else's kill,

or a natural death
that she is scavenging.

Solitaria does a lot more
of that than you'd expect

from a huntress
of her reputation.

The little female kitten

with more spots on
her body than the others

stays closer, more engaged.

When her siblings play,
she "hunts" her mother.

♪

The voices on the Ice Mountain
are not silent here for long.

♪

In Torres, seasons
change in a day,

snapping cold sending
everything into a huddle.

♪

♪

Flamingos, that you'd expect
to have flown north by now,

have stayed,

adapting with the most
delicate of balances,

raising their body temperatures,

but also preserving
calorie burn.

♪

These fields of guanacos

belong to a single,
dominant male puma...

La Roca, "The Rock."

He's the busiest puma here.

Every time it snows,

all his territorial
markings get covered.

His is a vast territory,
that overlaps Solitaria's,

so he's constantly on the move.

If he leaves one corner
unattended for a moment,

young puma males pop
up, looking to take over.

♪

La Roca's scent is
just too fresh today,

and the young male decides

on discretion,
and the next valley.

♪

Male pumas will avoid
a battle, if at all possible.

As the wind races
off the ice fields

and up the mountains,
it freezes the air.

♪

Everything moves
as if on fragile glass,

on precious crystals
that'll break with a breath.

♪

Solitaria is on the move.

She's seen these winters before.

She knows how to
turn it to her advantage.

The ground crunches underfoot.

If she flips a pebble,
the game will be up.

Stalking is difficult.

♪

So she sticks to the soft
snow, picking her footsteps.

♪

♪

♪

The explosion of a light tawny
cat from the dappled snowfield

is the last thing the
guanacos expect.

♪

It's confusing, and lethal.

At least one cub
is taking it all in,

every moment of the
life-and-death struggle,

because, one day,

this lesson will make all
the difference in her life.

It's time to name her, too...

"A Beautiful Huntress,"

La Bella Cazadora,

albeit in the first
stages of learning.

Because of this closeness,

Cazadora will grow
just a little larger

with each mouthful
she forces down,

while the others play.

The rule of the valley

is that those who get even
the slightest edge survive.

In a competitive family,

the one that figures
out the best spot

to absorb free
heat wins the day.

And it's usually Cazadora.

♪

Patagonia is not a
place for the weak.

It's the wily that
quickly adapt.

♪

And the thaw is
a dangerous time,

when benign-looking ice turn
into the fangs of foreboding,

indicators of change.

♪

It's a time to be extra careful.

Everyone is walking on glass.

♪

The flamingos here now

have performed the
tricky balancing act

of waiting out the winter
to get the early pickings,

while the rest of the flock
migrated north to Argentina.

♪

But nature has
its own timetable,

no matter how hungry you are.

♪

And Solitaria is hungry.

She's burned up most of her
body fat reserves for herself,

and for her suckling cubs,

so, she has to go out on a limb.

Most of the guanacos
have moved to the far side

of the frozen lake,
just out of her territory.

The cubs are uneasy, unsure.

They've only ever seen
the lake asleep, not rousing.

Cazadora needs reassuring.

It's not just the creaking
ice beneath her feet.

This is very
unfamiliar territory.

But if Solitaria and
Cazadora feel it's fine,

the other cubs will follow,

but still eager not to
linger on the groaning lake.

They're hesitant to go
into someone else's land

and risk offending.

Pumas are usually very
respectful of boundaries.

But Solitaria led them here

because of a different
scent in the thicket.

And well before the
other cubs find it, too,

Cazadora has proudly
claimed the top spot

on a frozen guanaco kill.

It's these stolen moments
that get a family like this

through the lean times,

until the herds circle
back into their territories.

♪

Whether the guanacos
return or not now,

Solitaria can't
afford to get cut off

on the wrong side of the lake,

so after a quick feed,
she tests the ice again.

The unsettling noises
below their feet seem like

they are coming
from an ice monster,

getting ready to
swallow them up.

♪

It scares the cubs,
and so it should.

The sun has been shining
for two days since they crossed

and they were all
a little lighter then.

♪

Her timing is perfect.

Within days, the
melt has started.

The fairy-tale
crystals of winter

dance off out of sight

and the lake shines with the
certainty that spring is coming.

♪

Chile straddles the
Tropic of Capricorn

and, at this time of the year,

the sun cuts a swath
across the ice fields,

warming the dark rocks,

melting the cover
off Torres del Paine,

drop by drop.

♪

The glacier river breaks up.

The lake Solitaria
and her cubs crossed

breaks apart and disappears

under an ever-increasingly
raging torrent.

The ice from the mountains feeds
volumes of water into the river,

warming it, changing it,

changing the entire character
of the place for everyone.

♪

A rare torrent duck fights
the out-of-control wall of water,

nearly swept away into oblivion.

But he knows a thing or two

about how to survive in
turbulent waters around him.

♪

In the foothills, away
from the madness,

prehistoric beasts emerge.

A rhea, that even the pumas

might think twice
about attacking.

Back in her territory,

Solitaria tries to make
sense of the sudden change.

There is always
opportunity in change.

Her scent on the breeze

means only one thing
to a guanaco herd...

run.

♪

As if winter is reluctant to
give up its grip to summer,

a sudden cold wind blows in
across the Southern Ice Fields.

It snaps the landscape
back into a blizzard,

catching the cubs out in
the open, down at the lake.

♪

The cold bites them in
razor-sharp shards of ice,

but besides huddling
together, they can't move.

Solitaria left
them to find food.

The only way she'll
find them again easily

after the dusting of snow

will be if they stay
where she left them.

It's hard,

especially when the
voices from the mountain

turn from whispers to shouts.

New snow on top of
old has created instability

and that erupts into
explosive avalanches.

♪

♪

The cubs are safe up high.

But Solitaria could be anywhere.

Days later, there's
still no sign of her.

The cubs found shelter,

but a long way from
where they were left.

♪

The condors
venture out to scout,

and find little of interest

but a few small creatures
swept up by the avalanche.

♪

A week later, La Roca arrives.

He's been patrolling,

keeping the territory
refreshed and safe.

There is something missing
in this part of the valley.

The scent of Solitaria.

The cubs don't
know their father.

To them, he is just a
series of scent marks

on the shrubs they come across,
sometimes strong and fresh;

at other times, just a whiff of
his maleness under the snow.

When he moves off, they relax.

He won't save them, anyway,

but they don't know how
much of a threat he might be.

♪

There is a kind of nothingness

when a mother's
scent starts to fade.

A quiet that fills the void,
where a mother puma's calls

should reverberate
through the hills.

And it is Cazadora
that first leaves

and climbs to the hills
to position to watch,

just in case.

♪

Some say there are ghosts here,

with breaths of laughter
at our sentiments of loss.

♪

Cazadora still has
so much to learn

about surviving the
whims of the ice mountains.

♪

It is usually the
battle-scared male pumas

that suddenly disappear from
the foothills of Torres del Paine,

these towers of cold blue

that form the backdrop
to every drama here.

Those messengers of the
ancient gods glide above it all,

many having seen decades
of this episodic story of pumas

play out again and again,
with one common thread...

That the bloodlines continue.

Some of the cubs drift off.

Cazadora found at least
one lesson that stuck...

the art of finding discarded
meat in the snow to scavenge.

But, one by one,

her siblings wander
away to uncertain futures.

Torres del Paine is
actually at quite low altitude,

so weather blows in
constantly, swirling in the crags,

trapped against
the ice mountains.

It refreshes the landscape
and brings in new characters

for condors to follow.

♪

Nature thrives on change,

even though it may not
be good for the individuals.

♪

By midsummer,
avalanche time, again.

The guanacos have started
to circle back into the valley.

This time, they're
being followed.

♪

The turbulent lake
territory has been visited

by nomadic cats,

but, for months,
they have cycled

in and out again,

after the herds,

just ghostly visions
against a ridge, or over a hill.

Since Solitaria's
disappearance, though,

the territory has
been unclaimed.

It's given the guanacos
and the season's chulengos

a chance to thrive.

Perhaps, they've become
a little too comfortable,

not as used to that
particular scent on the breeze.

♪

But this cat, also a nomad,
knows how to disguise her scent,

down at the lake's edge.

♪

She's different.

Young.

Experimental.

She's not terribly keen
on the icy glacier water

and very few cats in the world
love being in water, anyway.

♪

But if a duck can
do it, so can she.

♪

It's wet paws that
seem to bother her most.

♪

♪

With heavy muscled bodies,

Guanacos are actually
strong swimmers,

and choose a crossing
with strong current.

♪

It may be that they've
chosen this spot

to wash away any
following predators.

♪

It very nearly does.

♪

And then, her scent
simply disappears.

♪

It's a little confusing.

♪

She was obvious a moment ago.

♪

♪

♪

♪

They've come here for
another well-timed ritual...

The fighting for
the right to mate...

And they choose
wide-open plains for safety.

♪

She can't get to them.

♪

So, she waits for them to
make a mistake and come to her.

♪

And, soon enough, two
competing guanaco males

break the invisible
barrier of safety

and head up into the hills.

♪

Up here, it's to her advantage.

Rough terrain.

♪

♪

She can slip and miss the kill.

♪

If a guanaco
slips, he is the kill.

A hunt is a
complexity of skills,

using the wind, terrain,

when to hide, when to
reveal and spring the chase.

But, suddenly, the key
that triggers the hunt

is her knowledge that a guanaco
fleeing beyond the ridgeline

runs off into an abyss.

♪

This is the moment.

♪

And it swings back
downhill, to salvation,

but the young puma
has learned that an attack

onto a guanaco's
well-protected back

is a hard task on the run.

But it's her use of the
ridge as a technique

that tells of her knowledge
of this landscape.

She's hunted here before.

Her familiarity suddenly
becomes clear...

She is "The Beautiful Huntress,"

La Bella Cazadora,

one of the abandoned cubs,

somehow having
made it for months

in the wilderness, all alone.

Cazadora, her efforts
not particularly impressive

to the guanaco herd

that may recognize
that she's a young cat,

still learning her ways.

As she struts her way
to Solitaria's old territory,

her birth home,
she's being watched.

A battle-scarred,
but young, male,

is interested in the scent

Cazadora brings
to the territory.

He's one of many young males

contesting for the rights

to her father, La
Roca's, legacy,

once he disappeared.

♪

She's not impressed,

and uses the breeze at
the lake to hide behind.

♪

If she does stay,
this lakeside territory

is the prime land
in Torres del Paine.

♪

It is often sheltered
from the incessant wind

and, while it ruffles
every coat here,

a swirling wind plays havoc
with a cat's plans for a hunt.

♪

At the same time, the
southern wind lays down

a carpet of ice in
the high country.

♪

Cazadora hunts both,
valleys and hillsides,

depending on where
the guanacos are moving.

♪

And so begins a
phase of her life

where she is on the
go, day and night,

finding the nooks and crannies
she may have once known,

but now needs
to know intimately,

for food and escape.

♪

By the next snowfall,

she's ready.

The heavy snow is
her invisible blanket,

but it creates its
own problems for her.

She can hear the
sounds of crashing heads,

as the guanaco males
continue their fighting,

but the same snow that
hides her, hides them.

They have an adaptation...

Long eyelashes that keep
the snowflakes out of their eyes.

♪

♪

The snow makes a particular
crunching sound under her paws

in this otherwise
deadened soundscape.

So, her timing
has to be just right.

♪

♪

And, this time, it's
a deadly throat hold,

not a flaying grab at the back,

that quickly dispatches
the guanaco, silently.

It's an impressive kill
for the young Cazadora.

She's pumped with adrenaline,

not just because of the effort,

but, now, she must
hang on to her kill.

With all the young males around,
some of them may have heard her.

♪

If not, if it's all for her,

she'll have food in
this freezer for weeks.

♪

♪

Each success is so much more
important as the winter sets in.

Temperatures drop.

Nights drag, for
16 hours or longer.

♪

For a puma to survive, she
has only herself to rely on.

A bad day, an injury,

and it can quickly turn

into a downward spiral
to starvation out here.

♪

And there it is.

A young male has followed
the scent of fresh meat,

or been following her
trail for other reasons.

♪

Whether hunger or romance,

Cazadora has no
interest in finding out,

and slinks off
into the blue night,

giving up most of her
reward for the incredible effort.

♪

♪

If she's going to stay
at the lake and own it,

she won't go unnoticed for long.

♪

It's a strategic move.

♪

So, Cazadora simply
leaves her territory.

♪

Her incursion is
immediately noticed.

An older male in
the adjoining territory,

almost a third bigger.

She hasn't met the male before.

♪

Many solitary big cats
relax territory boundaries

when it comes to the
business of courtship.

Despite their differences,

and lack of expertise
in communicating,

the two pumas,
Cats of the Mountain,

Lords of the
Forest, Cats of God,

or any other of the 40 names

they are referred to
across the Americas,

finally agree on a
common language.

♪

And so begins a week-long
dance, at first tentative, testing,

and then playful.

♪

He's dominant,

but she's as dangerous,
armed with teeth and claws.

♪

♪

It's a tango in which these
two pumas lose themselves,

as they elope
into the foothills,

with confetti to
celebrate their nuptials.

Season after season, this
tightly bound relationship

between the pumas
and their prey,

and the condors,

thrives in this unique
place on the planet,

with the elegance of perfect
harmony at the lake's edge.

♪

By spring, three months later,
Cazadora is queen of her valley,

one of the richest
hunting grounds in Torres.

♪

The guanacos
come here constantly,

for the herbs and shrubs that
survive the gusts of icy wind

and flourish the minute
there is respite and sunshine.

♪

She is sleek, her
stride confident.

♪

Her kill rate has increased,
but now, slightly heavier,

she relies on an old lesson
her mother taught her...

To follow the birds.

A kill requires

an intense burst of energy.

It's taxing on the body.

But stealing someone else's
kill comes with a high risk as well.

Scavenging a kill that
belongs to someone else

makes her very cautious.

For good reason.

When the owner comes
down the hill, behind her,

he's clearly indignant.

♪

He's another young male,
not her regular stalker,

and dangerous for her.

♪

♪

And then, something
strange happens,

a strategic body language
that may just win her some time.

♪

She simply ignores him.

When she turns her back on him

and carries on
feeding on his kill,

she sends a signal that he's
not important, not a threat.

And his response?

Is to be submissive
and beg to share.

♪

Cazadora's snub has
carried a lot of meaning.

♪

♪

And then, out of nowhere,

she's had enough of his
manners and sees him off.

♪

The status quo can't last.

Before he regains
his confidence,

Cazadora leaves.

She's become more
unsettled recently,

not comfortable in
one spot for too long.

♪

Her scent oozes down the river.

Guanacos don’t distinguish

between a puma
on a personal quest

and one that is on the hunt.

♪

They'd rather just
keep her in sight,

no matter what she's up to.

Like her mother, she's
claimed the territory

that straddles
the glacier river.

♪

It scared her as a cub.

The avalanches are
now a constant backdrop.

She now knows it well.

♪

♪

When she goes up to the
caves of conglomerate rock,

peppered with pebbles,
it's to her secret place,

and she comes here
for a specific reason.

♪

Four small,
well-camouflaged reasons,

just weeks old.

Exactly like Solitaria,

Cazadora has brought
four kittens into the world

and her single call is all the
encouragement they need.

♪

And this is what the
condors are probably used to.

Despite one disaster,

the bloodline of this special
puma family continues.

♪

Immediately, one kitten
starts the age-old process

of endearing
itself to its mother.

Only one of these cubs will
make it to their mother's age,

so every single advantage
they can earn now...

Be it competition for
milk, for meat, for attention,

for learning those special
skills she can provide...

Will help them make it.

This one cub may well
be Cazadora's legacy.

And they are the
neighboring male's legacy,

as he gazes toward their valley.

Their father may
stay a distant figure,

but his presence
will protect them

from marauding young
males in the future.

♪

But their future is now mostly

about this next
moment of their lives,

and how they learn
from their mother.

♪

It is about how kittens watch
their mother's every move

and what they take in
about the world around them,

how they blend their
instincts and their lessons.

♪

It will be about seeing
that nervous tail twitch

as she plans out
a hunt in her head.

♪

They'll be taught about
the eternal tensions

between the eager

and the wary.

♪

Ardent students.

♪

The musty smell of
guanaco on the breeze...

♪

Making the mistake
of walking downwind.

♪

They'll learn to
pay more attention

to a lone guanaco on the ridges

because that intense interest
will be in her body language.

♪

These are the things
that Cazadora will pass on,

as the long line of puma
mentors did before her...

♪

Until the lessons
turn into instinct.

♪

And they will move like
mercury, focused on two things...

The moment, and the future.

♪

♪

But the one thing they can
never know about that future

is when it might come to
an abrupt and decisive end

and change the lives

of these precious
puma bloodlines forever.

♪

For them, nothing else matters,

and these are the things
we should all consider

in these last wild places.

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪