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junker-town · 4 years

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Every animal face-off in the BBC’s new nature documentary, rated

Sylvain CORDIER/Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images

David Attenborough’s new show is epic ... and sports.

We continue our extremely important mission to conduct a scene-by-scene review of the BBC’s new nature documentary, Seven Worlds, One Planet, in order to see how sports it is. We determined that Episode 1, which focused on Antarctica, was reasonably sports. Asia was very sports. Time for ...

Episode 3 South America

Scene 1: Puma vs. Guanaco

Feeding a family of three is hard, especially if you’re a single mother who is also a Patagonian puma. Mountain lions, the Americas’ second-largest cat, don’t get the reputation they deserve: their glory is stolen overseas by African lions and tigers and at home (at least in South America) by the jaguar. But all big cats are worth our attention, because they’re designed to kill you. Yes, you personally.

Possessing murderous grace, strength complimented by rending claws, surprising stamina and teeth optimized to clamp around one’s neck just so, a puma is a serious predator. And, perhaps unfortunately for Patagonian pumas, they hunt serious prey: guanacos. They’re built for the mountains, with the ability to breathe very thin air. They’re also built for puma attacks. Thick skin around their neck helps protect them from the fatal bite, and their height and heft — over three times that of a mountain lion — does too. A guanaco is not an easy hunt.

But hunt them mother puma must. There’s the family to think of, after all. So we’re treated to a series of puma-guanaco battles, closely matched and extremely well-fought, on scrub and in snow.

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Over a bruising few days, the mother, injured from an earlier attempt, finally makes a kill, sprinting to catch her foe, wrestling it to the ground, suffocating it with a bite and then dragging it over a mile back to her territory. Sometimes you just have to play through pain.

Aesthetics 10/10

Everything about this scene is beautiful, from the shapely mountains that backdrop the hunts to the limpid pools enjoyed by the cougar cubs. And both animals featured are lovely, too — we’ve discussed the murderous beauty of the puma, but there’s an elegant majesty to the hunted guanaco too.

Also, this dude makes a brief appearance:

BBC Earth

This is a dirty look that almost transcends perfection. Well done, grumpy old man puma.

Difficulty 10/10

The puma’s kill was difficult enough without having to drag a corpse a mile across the Patagonia scrubland while injured. That’s some good mothering.

Competitiveness 10/10

Guanaco are pretty spectacular things, and they gave the mother puma almost more than she could handle. An incredible battle.

Overall 30/30

Running to rodeo to wrestling to, uh, dragging? We’ll call this the puma tetrathlon, and it is definitely sports.

Scene 2: Turd Penguins

The Pacific coast of South America is shaped by the Andes above and the Atacama Trench below, where the Nazca Plate subducts under the continent to fuel its belching volcanic spine. The trench, and the Humboldt Current which flows above it, drive nutrients into the surface waters offshore, which attract some of the world’s largest concentrations of seabirds. And, therefore, also the world’s largest concentrations of seabird poop.

Guano has an incredible history. Seabird manure is extremely good for fertilizer, but in most areas of the world, many of the nutrients are washed out by rain. On the Peruvian coast, however, it doesn’t rain, so high-quality guano collects. And collects. And collects. When Alexander van Humboldt, who gave his name to the current (as well as a particularly disgusting species of penguin, whom we will be discussing later), brought back news of the Peruvian deposits, he sparked a massive guano boom.

For years, guano mining was the foundation of the Peruvian economy. Control of guano islands was so important that wars were fought over it, and the United States’ push into the Pacific was at least partly due to the search for new, uninhabited guano sites. The use of guano across the world has even been blamed — how credibly I’m not well-equipped to assess — for the particular strand of blight that caused the Irish Potato Famine. Until synthetic fertilizers were produced in the early 20th Century, guano was vital for world agriculture. Now it’s where some very awful penguins dig their disgusting little nests, coating themselves in the process.

My friends would describe me as dirty, but cute #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/TrsLBX0Y7c

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

NB: If you watch the full episode, be prepared to watch a penguin take a dump. Consider yourself warned.

Turd penguins, like their less smelly cousins, need to get to the sea to eat. And this is a more challenging affair than usual during breeding season, as the rich waters off the coast attract more than seabirds. Blocking off the penguins’ access is a full colony of sea lions.

I like to imagine (probably definitely incorrectly) that these sea lions are normally fairly chill animals. But when your nice, quiet beach is invaded by a shrieking mob of penguins LITERALLY COATED BEAK TO TAIL IN SHIT, it’s hard to be chill. And when those penguins ignore your warnings to go the fuck back to whatever shithole they came from and instead CROWD SURF OVER YOU, it’s even harder.

When you go into a store and the shop assistants pounce #SevenWorldsOnePlanet #amistakehasbeenmade pic.twitter.com/bI8DfPdAcL

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

Actual footage of life throwing me curveballs #SevenWorldsOnePlanet #oopsiedaisy pic.twitter.com/h5dn54cu5G

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

Turd penguin don’t give a fuuuuuuck.

Aesthetics 2/10

I’m the father of two small children and so consider myself fairly immune to whatever horrors bodily fluids might attempt to inflict upon me. But this is enormously gross, and not even some sassy sea lions can rescue it.

Difficulty 9/10

Running through a pack of angry sea lions who desperately want you to go away and could kill you quite easily is one thing. Using them as a jungle gym is another. Don’t try this at home. Actually, don’t try any of this scene at home.

Competitiveness 10/10

Humboldt penguins weigh somewhere around 10 pounds. An adult male sea lion can be as much as 20 times as heavy. Being willing to barge your way through/over a wall of angry muscle and blubber like that takes some incredible bravery.

Overall 21/30

Surfing is a sport, even when it’s done by unbelievably dreadful birds. Goodbye, turd penguins. I hated you.

Scene 3: Nerd Bears

There’s nothing wrong with being a nerd. Some of my best friends are nerds, after all. So when I say that the spectacled bear is a nerdy-looking bear, it’s out of affection. And accuracy:

Photo by Blick/RDB/ullstein bild via Getty Images

Cool glasses, nerd.

The spectacled bear is only found in the cloud forests of the Andes, and is correspondingly rare and vulnerable to habitat loss. But, like millennials, who do things like watch the world burning around them and yet spend their time shitposting about nature documentaries rather than actually doing anything useful, these bears love avocados. Even when those avocados are 30 meters off the ground.

These nerds aren’t as heavy as the polar or brown bears we met in the Asia episode, but they’re still reasonably heavy, and the thin branches that the avocados grow on are nowhere near big enough to support them. So the smart bears just bite into the branches so that they dangle down low enough for them to reach. The less smart bears bite them off entirely and have to climb all the way back down. Most fast and break things. That’s the nerd way.

Aesthetics 7/10

I’m mostly giving this a good score because there aren’t any penguins in it. But also these bears have some pretty good vibes:

Me living my best life #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/WMreQHmzww

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

Difficulty 5/10

That’s a pretty big tree to climb, and a pretty big body with which to climb.

Competitiveness 7/10

In the battle of bear and bear, all it takes is a little bit of technique and know-how to get the upper paw.

Overall 19/30

On the surface, the avocado hunt is not exactly the stuff to stir one’s blood. But there’s an important, if unspoken rule about sport-assessing, of which I am now a professional: if you watch cheating, there’s a pretty good chance that it’s sports.

Scene 4: Look at this monkey’s hair!

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These Cotton-top Tamarins are critically endangered, which is a big shame because they have cool hair. Their habitat is being destroyed for all the traditional reasons, and it’s depressing. You know the drill.

Aesthetics 10/10

Someone get me their stylist’s number ASAP. I can only assume Carlos Valderrama was inspired by these little dudes.

Difficulty 10/10

This was going to be a bunch of monkeys sitting around and looking cool while their home is being razed around them, like a primate version of the ‘This is Fine’ dog. And then one did an absurd tree jump, which would kill 100 percent of the humans that tried to match it.

Competition 0/10

Monkeys vs. praying mantis? No contest. Monkeys vs. the inexorable tide of ‘progress’ that is slowly grinding their entire species away. Also no contest.

Overall 20/30

If everyone doing long jumps at the Olympics had these haircuts they’d get way better sponsorships. Sports.

Scene 5: The Very Horny Bird Squad

Birdsong is one of the joys of spring, and it’s only improved by the knowledge that it’s a bunch of tiny dinosaurs loudly expressing their desperate need to make some babies. Cheep-cheep-sexnowplease-cheep. For many birds, mere song is not enough. Bright, ostentatious plumage is a sign that a male is healthy and thus that his courtship attempt is worth responding to. And sometimes, the female bird wants to see some dancing.

Bird courtship routines are a staple of natural history programming, but in the Amazon we’re treated something rather more curious: the Blue Manakin team dance.

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The lead male bird somehow wrangles a squad of subordinates to help him do his *ahem* dirty work. Attenborough claims that “by supporting [the leader] now they may themselves eventually become leaders and get a chance to mate,” which sounds dubious to me. It’s basically a bird sex pyramid scheme, little buddies, so don’t fall for it. The leader’s out to screw you.

This scene is made much better by the fact that the female bird is completely uninterested.

Aesthetics 10/10

Beautiful birds, beautiful dance moves. I particularly love the synchronized shuffle-hop, but the final flap-your-wings-while-screaming routine might need some work (its target seemed to think so too).

Difficulty 8/10

I can’t even dance by myself, let alone in a group. How many hours of practice went into this routine?

Competition 7/10

This very good dance not being good enough strongly implies that there are other, more capable bird squads around.

Overall 25/30

Team dancing is sports, even if in this case it’s extremely horny sports.

Scene 6: Poison Dart Frogs

Living in the rainforest is a pretty good deal for poison dart frogs. It’s nice and damp, there are some great trees to hang out in, and since almost everything that touches you has an unpleasant experience they get a fairly stress-free time.

But there is a problem: standing water. With some deeply weird exceptions (don’t google the Suriname toad if you have trypophobia), amphibians need water in which to lay their eggs. There aren’t too many ponds to be had, up in the canopy. So they have to make use of the tiny pools of water that collect in bromeliads, one per egg. Sometimes they choose badly and the small pool in which the egg has been placed dried up before their tadpole has finished developing:

Blob fish or tadpole? You decide#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/DUr5hn8tbm

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

That tadpole is in trouble, and the only way to help is to get it to a real pool of water. That means relocation via piggyback ride, perhaps even to a new tree, and then a summoning of the tadpole’s mother to lay another (unfertilized) egg to serve as food. Yum yum.

Aesthetics 3/10

Poison dart frogs have bright and flashy coloring to warn predators not to eat them. These yellow-and-black ones are particularly smart-looking. But bright colors alone aren’t doing it for me.

Difficulty 6/10

When you’re less than an inch long, searching through the forest with a baby on your back for a new place to stash it must be very hard work. Remembering where exactly you’ve dumped all your children seems like a tough task too.

Competitiveness 2/10

I’m guessing that there are a bunch of other poison dart frogs looking for egg pools in this forest, so I guess they can have a couple points here.

Overall 10/30

Not sports.

Scene 7: Scarlet Macaws

Parrots jostle and fight for position on the banks of a particular stretch of the Amazon. Are they after food? Not exactly. Parrots’ diet is low in salt, and their chicks need salt to develop, and here, at the edge of the river, is salt-laden clay. So the parrots squabble to grab a chunk of mud, fly up to 50 miles (!) back to their nests, and feed it to their children.

Aesthetics 5/10

Scarlet macaws are pretty birds:

Nothing more romantic than a cheeky head scratch and a chest peck #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/kgea0ciCCg

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

And we get to see more than just them. There are plenty of blue-and-gold macaws (my favorites) battling it out for the mud too, plus a sizable squadron of what I think are probably Amazon parrots in their greens.

Difficulty 4/10

This is more annoying than difficult, apart from the very long distances the birds have to fly.

Competitiveness 3/10

If there was a real free-for-all this would have scored quite high, but there appear to be just enough rules in parrot society to keep the clay harvesting from descending into an all-out brawl.

Overall 12/30

Nope.

Scene 8: Un-diving

This is more like it. A thousand miles south of the parrot clay feast, a troop of brown capuchins is moving through the trees, looking for breakfast. Staring up at them, following their every move, are ... fish. The piraputanga are able to see the monkeys clearly because Bonito’s Rio da Prata is fed by freshwater springs, naturally filtered by the underlying rock.

Are these fish on the hunt for monkey meat? No. Like dogs following a toddler, they’re hoping for their scraps. When the monkeys find ripe fruit — impossible to spot from underwater — they stop and eat. Plenty drops into the river. But an anaconda soon interrupts breakfast, attempting to ambush the capuchins from underwater.

Fortunately, that’s not the end of the piraputangas’ meal. Now that they know where the fruit is, they have schemes of their own:

...Try, try again #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/WEGJHlB1sm

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

I have to admit that I did not see this one coming.

Aesthetics 9/10

This is a beautiful scene. While none of the animals themselves are that attractive, the environments, particularly the crystal-clear waters of the Rio da Prata, are sublime. The anaconda’s slither through the mud carries with it potent, barely-seen menace. And then there’s the piraputanga jump. They have surprisingly good form, for fish.

Difficulty 8/10

Trying to jump several times your body height to grab something you can only barely see would be tricky enough if you were able to use your hands. Now imagine you have to do that with your teeth.

Competition 8/10

These fish mean business, and there’s not enough fruit to go round. After the monkeys are done with their handouts, the highest and best jumper is literally the one which gets to eat. A bonus point for the anaconda hunt.

Overall 25/30

Diving is sports. Un-diving is also sports.

Scene 9: Waterfall Skimmers

Norberto Duarte/AFP via Getty Images

Great dusky swifts will do a lot to protect their chicks. Harried and harassed by falcons, they have a perfect hiding spot for their nests: behind the thundering curtain of the Iguaçu Falls. The falls, on the border between Brazil and Argentina, are the biggest waterfall complex in the world, and the wet rock behind them is all that the chicks know before they take their first flight. Which is right through the pouring water and to the other side:

These great dusky swifts are able to fly right through the thundering torrents of water.#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/txtjP3mOFo

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

Birds nesting in challenging places gives their chicks a great chance in the earliest days but creates a terrible bottleneck later on. This trial by waterfall isn’t the worst thing nature does to baby birds, but it’s an impressive challenge to get past. Blind and bedraggled, these tiny, barely-fledged swifts have to force their way through the falls and out into the open air for the very first time. Their reward is some pretty damn good scenery, and probably getting eaten by a falcon or something.

(Bonus video!) Here is the worst thing that nature does to baby birds:

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Aesthetics 10/10

Lovely. While great dusky swifts aren’t very pretty on their own, especially when wet and flummoxed, the Iguaçu Falls are one of the planet’s most spectacular sights, and watching these 8-inch birds take them on is unbelievably cool.

Difficulty 10/10

This is another thing that would definitely kill you if you attempted it. Well, all flying would, but especially this one.

Competition 9/10

Little birds vs. enormous waterfall is a David-and-Goliath sort of deal.

Overall 29/30

Extremely sports.

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