30x13 - Cracking the Koala Code

[bunniefuu]

We've known them
from childhood.

Charming, funny birds
that float in the tub.

But ducks are full of surprises.

Older than whales,

they were one of the first creatures
to return from land to the sea.

Supremely adaptable,

they have conquered
every kind of water.

Intensely social,

they have rituals
that reach back millions of years.

Proven survivors,

they're a perfect blend of wings,

and wind,

and water.

Introducing ducks,

a colorful cast of true originals.

For 32 days,
they've been developing,

growing, transforming.

Now, their time has come.

Urgently, they begin knocking on
the door to the outside world.

Ready to break through.

In their first moments of life,

you can tell that they are
ancient creatures.

There are shades of dinosaur

or miniature dragon about them.

But as soon as they've had a chance
to dry and fluff up a little,

it's easy to see what they really are.

Bright eyed, downy ducklings.

Each egg was laid a day apart,

but they all hatch together
within 24 hours.

They will face the world as a family.

They recognize their mother
by her familiar voice.

She's been softly cooing to them
through their shells

for the last few weeks.

They imprint on her
the moment they see her.

Sealing a bond that's the key
to their survival.

But even as they nestle
into her feathers,

a combination of excitement and hunger
makes them eager to leave the nest.

And at dawn the very next morning
after they hatch,

their mother leaves
and begins to call to them.

She's calling them
out of the nest.

They don't hesitate.

With small, sharp claws
on the ends of their webbed toes,

they climb the sides of the nest.

A daunting reality
is waiting for each of them.

Their safe and cozy home
is some 70 feet up

in the hollow of an oak tree.

It's just the second day of her life.

She can't fly.

At this stage, she doesn't really
have any wings to speak of.

But she can see the ground far below.

And hear her mother's calls.

Maybe courage comes from necessity.

Maybe it comes in knowing from birth
exactly what to do.

She weighs less than an ounce,

and lands softly and safely
in the leaf litter below.

And one by one,

ducklings rain down
from the tall oak tree.

The siblings rally together
on the forest floor.

Their mother continues calling
from the middle of a nearby pond,

and with single-minded purpose
and surprising speed,

her brood sets off towards her.

The tiny ducklings are unstoppable.

Just ahead lies the world
they were made for.

And they take to the pond like...

..well,

ducks to water!

Out on the pond,
a vision awaits them.

Resplendent in feathers of
green and Chestnut,

ornately patterned
and trimmed in white,

with bill and eyes
of blazing red.

The ducklings' parents are
North American wood ducks,

dazzling members of
a remarkable group of waterfowl.

Ducks are complex characters...

..fascinating and funny,

sophisticated and silly.

Much of their lives, we never see,

yet they seem as familiar
as a nursery rhyme.

There are pintails,

and buffleheads,

eiders,

widgeons,

canvasbacks,

and green-winged teals.

More than 120 different species in all.

On the land they waddle.

A comical combo of
stout bodies, short legs,

webbed feet, and a quack.

But in the water, they glide.

Each one a sea-worthy little ship
in watertight feathers.

In the air, ducks are powerful flyers.

Winging their way across continents,

some traveling thousands
of miles in a single year.

But no matter where they're headed,
all ducks come home to water.

It's in water that they make a living.

Our wood ducklings were born
knowing this.

No parent provides for them.

They start feeding all on their own
the minute they enter the water.

Their pond in spring
is brimming with good things to eat.

Tiny crustaceans and the larvae of
aquatic insects cloud the water,

turning the pond into
a veritable duck soup.

Although wood ducks
dine on many plants,

little woodies need more protein

in their first weeks of life
while they're building their bodies.

They sift through
the gooey pondweed,

harvesting tiny invertebrates
from the greenery.

Their mother is never far away.

But they don't need her
to teach them the ropes,

they need her to protect them.

For, like all ducklings,

the woodies have entered
the food chain

smack in the middle.

Their pond may be small,

but it's complete.

Hawks,

foxes,

even neighborhood cats take
a terrible toll on little ducklings.

Large mouthed bass
and hungry snapping turtles

lurk in the murky waters.

In some years,
nine out of 10 wood ducklings

fall to predators
within their first two weeks.

And they are vulnerable
even when full grown.

Though the ducklings
may look up to their parents,

the adults are only
six or seven inches tall.

And weigh only about
a pound and a half.

Canada geese tower over them.

So far this season,

our wood duck family
has been lucky.

Their pond has been
a remarkably safe place.

At the end of the day,
the mother shepherds her brood

to a secluded spot
that offers cover and protection.

A male wood ducks takes no part
in raising the family.

He will rest afloat
in the center of the pond,

or, true to his name,

fly up into the safety of the trees
to roost for the night.

A duck's identity
lies in more than its name.

It all starts with
how and where it eats.

There's the water's surface,

where "dabblers" float along...

..scooping up all kinds of
plants and creatures

that conveniently collect
and grow there.

But there's often something
worth eating, a little bit deeper,

and with head down and bottoms up,
they can just reach it.

Other ducks go deeper.

They're "divers",

finding food along
rocky and sandy floors

that dabbling ducks can't reach.

Up and down they go,

bringing up the daily catch.

Of course, there's always
someone who wants it both ways.

Buffleheads are diving ducks,

but this little female

has spied something delicious
just beneath the surface.

She's not good at dabbling,
but she can't resist.

She gets no points for style,

but she does get her prize.

Ducklings know if they are divers
or dabblers right from the start.

And these little ruddy ducks
were born to dive...

..just like their dad.

The ducklings use their enormous
feet to propel them down.

It may be six weeks before
the little ruddies take to the air.

But in water,

they already seem to fly.

Growing up to be just like their parents
is trickier for other chicks.

This devoted mother
and her bright yellow ducklings

are actually
not related at all.

She's a female lesser scaup,

and on close inspection,

the little yellow chicks
are redhead ducklings.

They will develop into adults
that look like this.

Redhead females

make a practice of laying some eggs
in another duck's nest...

..leaving the raising and protecting
of the hatchlings to someone else.

The ducklings imprint
on their foster mother,

and she doesn't seem to notice
that they're different.

The yellow chicks tag along
with the dark scaup chicks

in one big blended family.

But when the adopted chicks
grow up,

they in turn will lay eggs
in another duck's nest.

It's a hedge against bad luck,

and should a predator
raid their own nests,

having some eggs "in another basket"
is a pretty good backup plan.

Of all the things that shape
a duck's character,

water is one of the most powerful.

From high energy waters like this,
comes a very different duck.

Torrent ducks revel in

the tumultuous Mountain rivers
of the andes in South America.

They're the whitewater adrenaline
junkies of the duck world,

fearlessly leaping into
the fastest water they can find.

Everything about them
is designed for this,

from their extra thick, rubbery feet,

to their long, stiff, rudder-like tail.

This cold, clear water, however,
is not rich in food,

so each pair of torrents
stakes out a stretch of river

and defends it for all they're worth.

They are one of the very few ducks
to require their own territories.

It's all about securing enough food
to raise a family,

and to take care of hers,

the orge-breasted female
sets off on a surprising climb.

She's sitting on eggs
on a cliffhanger of a nest.

It's a home made of moss
covered with a quilt of down.

And it's perched some 60 feet
above the river.

Long before they're born,

torrent ducklings are accustomed
to the constant roar of whitewater.

Their father, in striking
black and white plumage,

remains on patrol,
watching over their territory.

The ducklings are strong
swimmers from the get-go.

These rough waters
are their world,

and they're born ready for it.

The woodies take their morning
swim in much calmer waters.

Ducklings grow up fast,

and ours have already
turned into teenagers.

They still hang out together,

absorbed with taking care of
their sleek new feathers.

They won't need
their mother much longer.

The young woodies have already
taken a momentous step,

one that will change their lives.

They have finally learned how to fly.

Getting up into the air
is a complicated exercise,

especially for ducks.

They have relatively small
and pointy wings,

and two very different flight plans.

Surface dabbling ducks,

with small, light bodies,

can rise straight up,

ascending almost vertically into the air.

Heavier bodied diving ducks
need a long watery runway

to get enough lift to take off.

And it takes a lot of flapping to get
a chubby little bufflehead airborne.

Once in the air,
ducks maintain a fast pace.

They don't have
the wings for soaring.

A bald eagle looks effortless
alongside hardworking pintails.

But even for an eagle,
ducks are hard to keep up with.

Given their body-to-wing ratio,

ducks need to fly
at high speeds to fly at all.

Remarkably,
delicate little green-winged teals

have been clocked at almost


By mid-summer,
in duck waters everywhere,

all the ducks have vanished.

But they haven't flown away.

You can still hear
the unmistakable sound

of 10,000 ducks chatting
across the empty water.

They're hiding...

..relying on the tall reeds for cover.

All birds go through molt,

replacing worn and tattered feathers
with new ones.

Usually, they replace
flight feathers one at a time

so they can continue to fly.

But, in a bold move,

ducks drop all their
flight feathers at once.

They are temporarily grounded.

Surrounded by plenty to eat,
they don't need to take to the air.

Yet, for the next three or four weeks,
with no way to fly from danger,

they are all "sitting ducks."

By late summer,
when the molt is over,

all the damaged, worn out feathers
have been replaced

with strong, flexible new ones.

And they are beautiful.

Intricately patterned.

And shimmering with color.

Some feathers
are rich in dark pigments

that help make them strong
and resistant to wear and tear.

But the most dazzling hues
come from tiny crystals

in the structure of the feather
that scatter light in specific ways.

It's nature's nanotechnology

that makes the iridescent
purples and blues,

and the brilliant greens,
that many ducks seem to favor.

Staying bright and shiny
usually starts with a bath.

There's dust and dirt
and parasites to deal with.

Every feather must be combed out
nice and flat.

And then waterproofed.

From a gland
at the base of the tail,

ducks spread a waxy ointment
all over their plumage.

The whole routine takes hours
of nibbling and stroking,

and athletic contortions,
several times a day.

It all concludes
with a satisfying stretch,

with every feather back in place.

By the end of summer,

a young wood duck is showing
the first signs of his true colors.

He's on his way to being
a beautifully feathered male.

But it will be another year yet,

before he'll be ready
to put his plumage to the test.

In the golden light of October,

with iridescent feathers at their best,

wood ducks go courting.

Wood ducks pair up months
before the breeding season.

They gather in little groups of their own.

Males to show off
and outdo each other.

And females
to pick a new partner.

Wood duck fidelity
only lasts a single season.

But once they have
become a couple,

they will spend the winter
perfecting their bond.

The young male
is eager to be noticed.

He attempts
to chat up some females

but he doesn't find
the right thing to say.

All his attempts to woo

go the wrong way.

He's learning the painful truth -
that this game is not up to him.

It's the female
who decides who gets to mate.

All the males are beautiful.

What else is she looking for?

Only she knows for sure.

And suddenly,

she finds it.

Once he's been chosen,
he'll have to be more than pretty.

He'll need to work hard
to protect her from all other males.

If he doesn't,

she'll have all winter
to change her mind.

Then, as the hours of
daylight dwindle,

their food sources diminish

and it's time to head south.

All across the north,

tens of millions of ducks take to the air.

They will fly
for many thousands of miles...

..following ancient routes.

Taking turns flying "point",

ducks often form up into a "V".

All but the lead bird
flies in the slipstream

of the one in front of it,
saving energy.

Precisely how they navigate
is a marvel and a mystery.

They follow landmarks,

use the Sun as a compass,

and track along lines
of the Earth's magnetic field.

Often, they depart at dusk,

rising with the setting Sun,

winging their way into the night
a mile or more above the ground.

A map of stars
now sparkles above them,

guiding them on their way.

It seems that from the first,
from the very egg,

ducks know
where they are going.

They land to rest and refuel
along traditional flyways.

Ducks can't carry
reserves of body fat on migration,

and their high speed
and high metabolism

burn right through
their last meal.

The location of good re-supply stops

is what ultimately determines
the route they can take.

But in the frenzy to feed,

they are vulnerable.

Redheads gather in tight groups,

taking turns as lookouts
while the others feed.

Green-winged teals
often work in pairs -

one head up,

the other head down.

Shovelers swim in close circles,

concentrating invertebrates
for easier capture.

But that leaves them
with no eyes on the skies.

A northern harrier
hunts over the wetlands,

looking for an exhausted
or injured bird.

But once on the wing,

ducks are too fast
for the hawk to catch.

Predators or not,

ducks dare not linger
too long on a stopover.

As the shovelers keep feeding,

a snow squall catches up with them.

There are a few ducks
that defy winter.

In spite of the cold,

common goldeneyes
stay far to the north

in the food-rich arctic ocean,

wherever there's open water.

Even in the depths of winter,

ducks stay a toasty 105 degrees
inside their dense feathers.

Their challenge is to prevent
all that warmth from escaping

into the icy water through their
naked legs and big webbed feet.

Their solution...

..is to keep their feet
almost as cold as the water.

Special blood vessels cool the blood
flowing to their toes

and then warm it
on the way back up.

Their circulation stays strong,

with no heat lost to the water.

But now and then,

it must be nice to tuck a cold foot
into some nice, warm feathers.

It's the fishing
in these arctic waters

that makes adapting to
the cold worthwhile.

And there's nothing like
a little success to attract attention.

A pair of red-breasted mergansers
has flown in to test their luck.

Their long, sharp, serrated bills
are perfectly designed

for seizing a slippery meal.

As winter deepens,

dense flocks of common eiders

converge on rare patches
of open water in the polar ice.

In temperatures reaching 40 below,

it's sometimes just the tightly packed
presence of the ducks themselves

that stops this last ocean patch
from freezing over.

What could possibly keep eiders
in this impossible place

through the winter?

The answer
lies just beneath the ice.

Fighting a headwind of swift current,

eiders use their powerful wings
to reach a sea floor

covered with high protein clams,

mussels, and urchins.

This remarkable footage is unique,

the first glimpse of ducks
flying through the ocean.

It also shows their difficult
and dangerous work.

Eiders have only a minute or so
before running out of air,

and a large flock can easily deplete
the reachable seabed.

All winter, they rely on
the constantly shifting ice

to open up new feeding grounds.

Once they've pried a clam loose,
they simply relax,

and the air in their feathers
brings them back to the surface.

They swallow the catch whole.

The calcium-rich shell

will be ground up in the bird's gizzard
and digested.

In this way,

seashells will recycle into eggshells

come the arctic spring.

Most ducks handle winter
by simply leaving it behind.

In wetlands across
the American South,

ducks have taken refuge
in bayous, bays, and creeks

all through the low country.

Our wood duck pair
has landed on a pond in Florida,

which is turning out
to be a popular spot.

The couple stays side by side,

especially now that other wood ducks
have gathered on the water.

There appear to be quite a few
bachelors in the group,

and though it's not mating season yet,

they're all looking to secure a partner.

The male is on guard duty
every waking moment.

Males often outnumber females,

so the others will steal her if they can,

or at the very least
harass her constantly.

That's why she chose
a protector and a companion

long before they arrived.

Without a bodyguard,

a female is in physical danger from
aggressive and unwanted attentions.

But our male
is proving himself a worthy partner.

He's been by her side
through thick and thin,

rain or shine,
for better or for worse.

At long last,
spring is on the way.

The woodies' world
is turning green.

With food sources
due to bloom in the north,

ducks everywhere are getting
ready for spring migration.

And for most ducks,

that cues the most significant event
of the year -

The annual song and dance
of courtship.

Males decked out
in their finest feathers

begin doing just about anything
to get noticed.

Females all across the duck world
sit and watch,

judging.

Every performer follows
finely tuned choreography

selected and honed over
thousands of years by their females,

as they pick the show
that pleases them most.

Of course,

males get distracted and jealous
of another's display.

The males get so worked up,

their frustration spills over
into violent abuse of the females.

Ducks are one of the few birds
that suffer forced copulations.

But mostly, it's the females
who choose their partners.

It's the drab,
camouflaged mothers-to-be,

who are actually responsible
for the dashing colors,

the splendor of the males.

Then there's the strange case of
the Australian musk duck.

It seems that these females have
a very different idea of good looks.

They've cultivated males
that look much like themselves,

only much larger,

and with an odd, leathery lobe
beneath their bills.

The musk duck fans his tail,

strikes a pose,

and whistles.

To top it off,
he releases a musky scent.

If he gets it right,

the female will find him irresistible.

Our female woodie, like all of her kind,
has chosen a beauty.

He's been a faithful guardian all winter,

and finally, she approaches him
as a partner in the dance.

She performs a series of head bobs,

splashing water with her bill.

He deliberately turns away

to show her the bright, white stripes
on the back of his crest.

Then she flattens herself
against the water -

A signal to him
that she's ready to mate.

And so the story begins anew.

The wood ducks
have chicks on the way.

She finds a protected nest site
high up in a tall oak tree,

in a cavity where
a tree branch once grew.

Down in the nest,
she makes everything ready.

She plucks the feathers
from her breast,

spreading out the perfect down
blanket for eggs and chicks.

He stands guard,

keeping predators
away from the nest

and competitors
away from his female.

She lays her eggs,

one per day,

and keeps them warm,

turning them,

talking to them,

patiently waiting...

..until that magic moment,
when eggs turn into ducklings.

Soon, their mother will call them.

Call them out to a waiting world.

They were born to master
the wind and the water,

and plucking up
their newborn courage,

they answer the call.