National Geographic: Jewels of the Caribbean Sea (1997)

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National Geographic: Jewels of the Caribbean Sea (1997)

Post by bunniefuu »

Paradise, for some, is simply

an empty beach on a Caribbean island.

But for wild creatures this is not

a destination, but a dividing line.

Here the tranquil inland world

comes to an end and a far more

complex and surprising one begins.

Vast coral reefs and sandy plains

shimmer beneath

the crystal Caribbean Sea.

And the tropical sun illuminates

an array of living jewels.

Here are creatures rare and fantastic.

Here are figments of our nightmares

and flights of wonderful fancy

from our dreams.

In waters famed for hidden treasure,

another kind of wealth is

stunningly abundant.

Here, immersed in beauty and

subtle mystery, we now discover

the JEWELS OF THE CARIBBEAN SEA.

The largest living structures

on planet Earth are controlled from

outer space.

Every year, with uncanny precision,

the orbiting moon somehow

sets in motion the process of spawning

in coral reefs throughout the world.

The same response occurs at different

times in great coral reef systems

from the Red Sea to the Pacific

and greater Caribbean.

Tiny bundles of brain coral eggs

and sperm rise like miniature moons.

Millions of them flood the sea.

Different species of coral

respond in different ways.

Some corals are hermaphroditic

and release packages

that contain both eggs and sperm.

Other types release them separately.

It is all unbelievably

subtle and complex.

The great blooming mass of eggs

and sperm floats to the surface

where the eggs will be

fertilized and become larvae.

The larvae will drift,

sometimes for many weeks,

Before setting to be bottom and

perhaps beginning a new reef

a hundred miles away.

The result of a few minute coral

larvae given thousands of years

to grow and reproduce can be this

a city in the sea the glory

of the Caribbean.

It is home to creatures

as tiny as a single bacteria

as huge as the manta ray.

Coral reefs may be hundreds of feet

thick, many miles in length.

They are by far the largest structures

created by living creatures.

Yet they are made almost entirely from

the skeletons of tiny coral polyps,

some the size of a single pearl.

The living coral grows about

half an inch a year.

It lies upon the skeletons of

dead coral, layer upon layer.

Along the edge of the reef we are

seeing growth that took

thousands of years.

Twenty feet down we are on the reef

that Columbus might have seen.

At 85 feet we are

in the time of Christ.

At 180 feet we have reached

the time of the pyramids.

Around the reef great predators roam.

A Caribbean reef shark snaps up

the weak and the unwary.

These swift K*llers don't always

prevail. In slow motion a small snapper

makes a quick turn,

tumbles down the shark's back,

and slips off its tail.

Those that escape a shark may fall

victim to a black grouper.

But the coral city is a community of

strange alliances where the thr*at

of sudden death can be

mysteriously suspended.

This coral head is a special place.

It's called a cleaning station.

Tiny cleaner gobies cluster

near the base of the coral head.

The tiger grouper often visits here.

Trusting in an ancient and

mysterious relationship,

the gobies do not hesitate

at the tiger's mouth.

The gobies are allowed to crawl

all over,

feeding on parasites and dead tissue.

In return, every inch of the grouper

is sanitized and groomed.

Other cleaners have other clients.

This Pederson shrimp,

waving its white antennae,

is issuing an invitation

and is accepted by a Nassau grouper.

Cleaning is a striking example

of symbiotic behavior.

As a result of its service,

the cleaner is fed.

And the fish that is cleaned

is healthier as a result.

But researchers suspect that

the simple pleasure it provides

is also important a sensuous interval

in the struggle to survive.

The shrimp is allowed

astonishing liberties.

It crawls through the delicate gills

in search of tiny parasites

that irritate the host.

On the reef many creatures may not

travel more than a few inches

in their entire lives.

But others are visitors creatures

who have come here on journeys

of thousands of miles.

During these winter months,

parts of the Caribbean fill

with the music of humpback whales.

The whales come here

from far to the north.

Little or no feeding takes place

during the several months

they stay here.

Males give themselves to fighting

for the right to escort a females,

and females are giving birth and caring for their calves.

In early spring they'll head back

north as far as Greenland

and Barffin Island one of

the greatest migrations in the ocean.

In a winter storm a hundred years ago,

a steel sailing ship

carrying molasses

from Caribbean plantations

sank here on Little Bahama bank.

Drifting coral larvae have settled

on the wreck,

and a new reef city is being born.

Coral polyps absorb calcium from

seawater,

which they use to create

the hard structures that make up

a reef home for a new community

of jewel-like inhabitants.

From its den beneath the collapsed bow

of the wreck, a

loggerhead turtle

emerges to greet a new day.

Turtles, like whales, are tied

to the surface by their need for air.

The loggerhead must breathe

every 30 minutes or so.

Then he continues this leisurely

but unrelenting search for food.

The slipper lobster has sacrificed

speed for the protection

of camouflage.

Not exactly lightning fast himself,

the loggerhead relies on persistence

and his powerful jaws.

Above the wreck,

swifter predators are waiting.

The barracuda hovers around

the reef most of the day.

Smaller fish tend to ignore it.

But everything can change

in an instant if it gets hungry.

The highly maneuverable yellowtail

snapper can sometimes

avoid becoming a meal.

These waters also swarm with

ballyhoo often not as fortunate.

This is one of the most intelligent

creatures on the reef

the Caribbean reef squid.

It is a creature from another world.

Their skins are alive

with signals of great sophistication.

Not only can they warm that a predator

is near, but they can even

distinguish one predator from another.

Males competing for the affections of

a female engage in a kind of

visual combat, displaying

spectacular colors and patterns.

No damage is done,

the contest is highly ritualized.

Squid & courtship is also very visual

a synchronized and

extravagant display.

The actual mating however,

is so brief, it's almost invisible.

The male lunges at the female with

a special arm,

attaching to her a packet of sperm.

The female can take her time deciding

if she will accept the packet for

self-fertilization or later

get rid of it,

rejecting it in favor of another.

In spring many reef creatures

are breeding.

Excited schools of mating fish dance

frenetically and animate

the placid Caribbean.

After mating, the male yellowhead

jawfish is left by himself

with the fertilized eggs.

He has them in his mouth,

spitting them out from time to time

to aerate them.

For five days he'll continue

his tender vigil until

the baby jawfish finally hatch.

Hundreds of Cerole wrasse school in

long columns as they migrate

every day across the reef.

They are deadly marauders, attacking

new generations of other fish.

Parrotfish are spawning,

and the arriving Creole wrasse

rush in to gorge themselves.

They eat the eggs the moment they are

released by the female parrotfish.

Thousands of eggs vanish

in a few seconds, but inevitably

some escape and a few tiny parrotfish

survivors will inherit the reef.

The Creole wrasse stop

by a cleaning station.

A juvenile Spanish hogfish

fearlessly takes them on.

It dashes from wrasse to wrasse

checking for parasites.

Requesting to be cleaned,

the Creole wrasse stand on their head.

Then, as the hogfish moves on,

the next wrasse dashes eagerly to

the head of the line

The smoke rising from this barrel

sponge is a dense cloud of sperm.

When a sponge starts to spawn,

it triggers a chain reaction

along the reef as others of the same

species hurry to mix their spawn.

The sea is as warm

with their fertility.

High over the teeming city,

clouds are gathering.

This is a springtime swarm

of thimble jellies.

Ninety-five percent water, without

brains or complex nervous systems,

they are little more than fragments

of the sea itself.

Each is the size of a thumbnail.

Thimble jellyfish are armed with

stinging cells

that carry a mild venom.

But this doesn't seem to discourage

many inhabitants of the reef.

The clouds of thimble jellies

drift out into the open sea

and into the haunt of giants.

Sperm whales spend most of their days

diving far underwater

where they hunt for squid.

They surface every 45 minutes or so

to breathe and bask

in the Caribbean sun.

But not all sperm whales

plunge into the deep.

Newborn calves lack the endurance

to make these epic dives

and must wait near the surface

for their mothers to return to them.

This calf lools in a gentle sea as his

mother descends a quarter of a mile.

As she soars through the darkness

and searches undersea canyons

far below him in pursuit of squid,

he can still hear

her familiar sonar clicks.

Fearless and playful, the lone

baby whale turns and spins, exploring

the dexterity of his great body in the

weightless freedom of oceanic space.

He is covered with remoras,

harmless companions who cling to him

for a spectacular free ride.

When he learns to dive,

they will probably leave him,

unable to stand the cold

and pressure of the abyss.

The baby whale hears his mother

returning and joins her to explore

their favorite waters deep channels

off volcanic islands in the Caribbean.

They swim by islands packed with more

and more hotels and holiday homes.

Seemingly lush and abundant, Caribbean

ecosystems are very vulnerable

to the tourists who come here.

To make room for them,

native vegetations is stripped away.

Over the years ecosystems disappear

and so do the creatures

that inhabit them on land

and in the sea.

The dark patches behinds the shelter

of the reef are prairies of turtle grass.

They cover hundreds of square miles

of the shallow banks.

This is home to a manatee.

Once great numbers of

these gentle undersea mammals

grazed here.

How the sight of one is

like encountering a lone buffalo

on the midwestern prairie.

Remoras cling to the manatee.

They get food from its waste.

The lone manatee probably gains

nothing but companionship.

The gentle stately manatee

faces many dangers.

Today, its greatest enemy

is probably pollution.

Easy targets for a harpoon, manatees

once were hunted almost to extinction,

and poachers still take them

when they can.

Only the tip of the snout

is exposed while breathing.

Manatees are highly vulnerable to

being hit by motor boats and jet skis.

Many bear propeller scars

and many die of their wounds.

When manatees are not feeding,

they are often sleeping.

Despite the camera,

this one is just dropping off.

There he's fast asleep,

oblivious to the tide of change

sweeping away his world.

The manatee's fate,

and that of dozens of other species,

depends largely on strangers

who pass this way briefly

and travel in splendid isolation.

Few of these travelers are aware of

their fatal impact on the wonders

all about them, great and small.

The reef at night.

Many fish sleep. This redtail

parrotfish slumbers with eyes open,

lying on her side on the coral.

As a prelude to mating,

a spiny lobster male gently caresses

the carapace of a female.

Lobster larvae, when they are born,

look like spun glass.

The spiny lobster female helps

her tiny larvae into the world.

She agitates her tail to help

move them out into the current.

By the thousands the tiny larvae

drift past their mother's eye,

never to be seen by her again.

Larvae, eggs, plankton, and tiny fish

all drift out from the reef,

a dazzling assortment of creatures

cast with seeming carelessness

onto the sea wind.

This is a venomous sea wasp. Its

stinging tentacles find larval fish,

which are quickly anesthetized

and consumed.

Reef squid lie in wait for

passing fish and crustaceans.

And out of the darkness

a giant manta ray joins the feast.

The manta loops to stay in the area

most dense with plankton.

It's maneuver as graceful as

it is efficient.

The arms on either side of her face

are cephalic lobes

that channel plankton into

a foot-wide mouth.

Her wings span six feet and

she weights several hundred pounds.

All night the eerie feast of

plankton will go on.

Out on the prairie a pearlfish

stands on its head,

mimicking the surrounding

turtle grass.

Camouflage makes it almost invisible.

This unappealing animal

is a sea cucumber.

It consumes sediments,

which are filtered internally for

digestible bits of organic matter.

It is also home for the pearlfish.

when in danger, the pearlfish

Locates the rear end of the sea

cucumber with its nose.

Then it inserts its sharply

tapered tail and slips back into

the cucumber's anus to reach

a safe hiding place in the intestine.

The pearlfish obviously benefits.

But what's in it for the sea cucumber,

if anything, is not known.

Comes a sultry Caribbean dawn,

and the placid sea gives no hint

Of the night's events.

A baby loggerhead turtle emerges from

the sand to greet its first day.

It begins a life that could last more

than 60 years,

or just a few minutes.

Turtles produce abundant young,

but only a few will survive

to carry on their species.

The baby heads instinctively

for its ocean home.

If a female, she may return to

this very beach to lay her own eggs

in 25 years or so.

If a male,

he will never again leave the water.

Now the baby turtle must cross

the reef and make its way to

the open ocean.

It's a dangerous crossing.

Predators gather quickly when the sea

is full of hatching turtles.

But this turtle is lucky.

After 36 hours of nonstop swimming,

the hatchling finds shelter.

It will spend its first year near

the sargassum fronds, later head north,

then eastward across the Atlantic

to the Azores and the Canary Islands.

The flotsam of the sea accumulates

where ocean currents converge.

Sargassum weed and other drifting plant

and animal life also gather here,

along with an increasing mass of

human rubbish.

Jellyfish congregate here too,

and one is the first meal

for the newly hatched loggerhead.

These waters often teem with jellyfish

and some of them are

voracious predators.

This large stinging cauliflower

has captured several moon jellies.

They are helpless

in its deadly tentacles.

The medusa fish may be resistant to

the cauliflower's stinging cells

or just incredibly nimble.

It feeds on scraps and leftovers from

the cauliflower's meals

and uses the broad bell as

a personal magic carpet.

Convergent currents drive

moon jellyfish together

by the tens of thousands.

Their translucent bodies form

a gently pulsing cathedral in the sea.

The sargassum weed is a safe nursery

for many Caribbean reef fish.

Spawned on the reef, schools of

baby fish hide here in the open sea

until they are old enough to return

to their more hazardous home.

A loggerhead turtle

is hunting for lobster.

The lobster uses its spiny antennae.

They are covered with sharp barbs

and the lobster aims them

at the turtle's eyes

with uncanny accuracy.

Eventually the loggerhead discouraged

and returns to his home in the wreck.

In a long, slow-paced life,

one lobster more or less

makes little difference.

Adult loggerheads lead settled lives.

They hunt by day and at night

usually hole up to sleep

in a favorite crevice.

Another turtle, a hawksbill,

is on the prowl.

She eats sponges.

She spends her days searching out

the varieties she likes best.

When she finds one, she contents

herself with just a few bites

and then moves on.

The sponge will survive.

Its tissue will heal and later

the turtle will be back for more.

For the French angelfish the sponge

is now an easy meal,

because the turtle has torn through

its outer layer.

But this sponge has a defender.

Some damselfish are farmers.

They cultivate patches of algae

on sponges that they rely on for food.

Although the queen angelfish is

many times the size of a damsel,

the little fish is unrelenting.

It will att*ck almost anything

to protect the algae farm.

Other kinds of algae have changed

the face of the Caribbean.

As they grow, several species

concentrate calcium in their tissues.

When they die, the calcified skeletons

of these plants decompose

and become find sand.

It's known for its delicate grain

and brilliant whiteness.

After thousands of years this sand has

created sand banks that can stretch

for miles between and shore.

Plains of this and other types of sand

are scattered throughout the Caribbean.

Seemingly barren deserts,

they are home for many creatures

that specialize in concealment

and camouflage.

A male peacock flounder

has excellent eyesight.

He watches from a high sand mound,

trying to spot a mate.

At last, a female.

He confronts her

and displays his long pectoral fin.

Seducing her will not be easy.

The female is not sufficiently

impressed. He must try again.

He displays all the signals

proper for his species,

but still she is unresponsive.

A cold fish indeed.

A curious mutton snapper butts

in just as the reluctant female

begins to show some interest.

Finally she responds.

It all ends with a single exquisite

shiver and a tiny puff of spawn.

During the long summer day

the voices of dolphins

can often be heard

across the sandy plains.

These are Atlantic spotted dolphin.

Like other mammals, dolphin babies

are nourished by mother's milk,

which is squirted into their mouths

under pressure.

Baby spotted dolphins don't develop

their spots for a few years.

Dolphins are social and very

intelligent animals,

and their private lives are

highly visible here in the open.

These dolphins relax here

after a night of vigorous hunting.

During the day the look for flounder

and razorfish that lie concealed

on the bottom.

The dolphin's sensitive sonar

can locate prey partially buried

in the sand.

Once discovered, a small fish

has little chance to escape.

Dolphin's are extremely

efficient hunters.

They are very playful and have

plenty of time to fool around.

Like chimpanzees

and other intelligent mammals,

they often reinforce their

social bonds with sexual behavior.

What starts as gentle foreplay

soon turns to mating.

Dolphins mate belly to belly.

The large gray dolphins here are

male bottlenose dolphins

a completely different species.

Female spotted dolphins pet

the bottlenoses and coax them to play.

Soon this becomes a sensual frenzy.

The two species will mate, an event

only recently recorded in the wild.

As a result there may be hybrid young,

but they will probably be sterile

and have no offspring of their own.

Dolphins show hyper-sexuality

in captivity

and this is often attributed

to boredom.

But films like this confirm that they

are also highly sexual

in the wild.

It has never been demonstrate that

dolphins have language as we know it.

But these dolphin vocalizations,

slowed down six times,

show just how much

information could be conveyed

by their intricate sounds.

The dolphin language, if any,

remains an unsolved riddle to science.

Whatever their meaning, dolphin sounds

are rich and varied, an essential part

of their social lives and an

expression of their soaring spirit.

For weeks in summer the dolphins'

playground is mirror-still,

a warm and crystal sea

seemingly frozen in time.

Then, finally, the long summer ends

when the first winter storm clouds

start to gather over the reef.

The jewels of the Caribbean

take shelter.

As winter arrives among the creatures

that seek safety and security

on the reef is the spiny lobster.

Lobsters group together and dash for

the safety of deep water

at the edge of the reef.

They are in the open here,

vulnerable to predators,

so speed equals survival.

One lobster takes the lead,

seeking the shortest course

to the protection of the reef.

Each following lobster uses

its antennae to engage the one ahead.

Like racing cars,

they take advantage of the draft.

The train of lobsters makes the trip

faster than one could traveling alone.

Their trek ends at the reef.

Here they find calm water

protected from storms.

Spreading out over the reef,

each will find a sheltering hole

or crevice that will serve as

its winter home.

Another winter visitor

has only just arrived.

Returning to this city in the sea,

humpback whales have

come back from the north.

A mother humpback whale is sleeping.

Her newborn calf snuggles

under her chin.

Calves spend their days playing,

nursing, and just basking

in an ocean filled with

the songs of whales.

The Caribbean is an ideal nursery

for the baby humpbacks.

They're 12 to 14 feet long

at birth and grow very quickly.

They'll each take up to 50 gallons of

milk a day and soon be strong enough

to make the long journey north.

The round trip is over 8,000 miles.

Once these humpback whales were

hunted almost to extinction.

Only a hundred or so wintered in the Caribbean.

Now they have made a modest comeback.

But all is not well in their environment.

Each time they return, these waters

are increasingly unfamiliar.

This area once included thousands of

manatees, reef sharks, and grouper.

Now many of them are gone.

The reef itself has declined.

Many of its jewels are missing.

In just a few years

there has been dramatic change.

One reason is a new predator,

ever more common,

that strikes from above.

Fisherman of the Caribbean

cast their nets.

Their hunt for food from waters around

the reef is more and more intense.

Their methods are increasingly

sophisticated and life is strained

from the sea.

Longlines are set for groupers

and sharks, and lures are trawled

through the waters by game fishermen.

In some places the remaining jewels

look to a future shadowed by change.

Their homes are not

what they used to be.

New reefs grow on structures that

are artificial and for the residents

are fraught with danger.

Oil rigs provide shelter on one hand,

the thr*at of spills and pollution

on the other.

And these new reefs may not endure

for thousands of years.

They are here today by man's whim

and could easily be gone tomorrow.

In these devastating times

a new creature has come to the reef

the sport diver.

Because of divers, sea life is

increasingly valuable alive and free.

This single shark brings millions of

tourist dollars

to the Bahamas every year.

This grouper attracts thousands

to resorts in the Cayman islands.

These dolphins play with thousands of

divers, bringing wealth

to the struggling nations

of the West Indies.

So there is a new form of symbiotic

behavior in the undersea world.

Marine creatures bring joy to

creatures of the land and we, in turn,

must provide protection against the

ravages of overfishing and pollution.

Above all, now there are

human witnesses to the damage humans

are doing here.

There is still a wealth of precious

jewels strewn about the Caribbean,

and there is still time to save them.
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