19x10 - Triumph of Life: Winning Teams

[bunniefuu]

The Great White shark
swims alone.

But for less formidable animals

it pays to be a face
in the crowd.

Animals have joined forces
again and again

throughout the four-billion-year
history of life.

In the battle for survival

working together has proved
to be a winning strategy.

The power of teamwork

is one of evolution's
greatest triumphs.

Shallow tropical sea.

One of the most diverse
and colorful habitats on Earth

but its beauty conceals
a harsh reality.

A battle for survival has raged

throughout life's
four-billion-year history.

That fight continues today

here as much as everywhere
on the planet.

Only the biggest
dare to cruise alone.

The reef can provide shelter
for many small fish

but others find safety

through one
of evolution's major advances:

living in groups.

Traveling in company means
never facing predators alone.

The shimmering dances of shoals

distract K*llers
from focusing on one target.

Silversides find safety
in a crowd

hiding behind each other.

Fish out of step risk being
picked off as they lag behind.

The same dance for life
has evolved many times.

In aerial ballet

starlings strive to avoid
a falcon's k*ller grasp.

There's safety in synchrony--

a spectacular defense
widely deployed.

Among reindeer,
the deadly dance is with wolves

but the steps for survival
are the same.

Migrating wildebeest
are safer in convoy.

A crocodile can only k*ll
one at a time.

Each animal is more likely
to save its own skin

by simply following the herd.

But in one of life's
greatest breakthroughs

true teamwork has evolved.

This social revolution
is based not just on herding

but on cooperation
and self-sacrifice.

Meerkats live in teams

whose individuals don't just
help themselves;

they help each other.

Rising from their safe den,
they are hungry after the night

but it's dangerous out here.

The main threat comes
from above.

The eagle does not notice them.

Sensing the coast is clear

the meerkats venture into
the open to dig for insects.

In teams, individuals play
different roles

and perched high in a bush

a lookout watches
over the foragers.

Another adult stays
back at the den.

Not all the group will get
a chance to eat today.

As today's baby-sitter

this team player
is looking after the young

of the only breeding female
in the group

keeping them safe from danger.

The guard's warning alerts
the others.

Meerkat teamwork

like most cooperation
between animals

is based on family.

In nature,
blood is thicker than water

and most of this team
are helping younger relatives.

Helping of family seems

to be the origin
of all animal societies.

Mammals don't have a monopoly
on such helping.

Some of the most
selfless acts occur

between the smallest creatures
living in families of vast size.

One of the most fearsome sights
in Africa--

the biggest family outing
on earth--

millions of driver ants.

All siblings, they're on a mission to k*ll.

And k*ll they do...

almost anything
their flowing horde washes over.

Single ants aren't much
of a threat.

But working as a team

they overpower prey
many times their own size.

Unable to escape,
the victims are dismembered

and carried back
to a hungry brood.

Parties of workers pull together

while larger soldiers
stand guard.

Not all animals caught
in the flood

are entirely defenseless.

As the attack starts

this banana slug exudes
copious quantities of slime.

Undeterred the ants
step up the attack

risking death-by-slime
for the good of their family.

For the slug,
resistance is futile.

All out of slime,
it is sliced into steaks.

Incredibly, other ants rush in
to rescue their entrapped kin.

Crumbs of earth are used
to sponge up the slime.

They now pull away what's left
to release gummed-up siblings.

Helping family seems so natural

it's easy to take it
for granted

but there is a mystery here.

Why should relatives help
each other so selflessly?

Clues can be found

within the supremely
coordinated body

of any living creature.

Bodies are billions of cells--

eye cells, brain cells
and muscle cells--

all working together.

These cells have one thing
in common: their genes.

At conception, a single cell
splits and an embryo forms.

At each split, a complete
body construction manual

in chemical code is copied
into the new cells.

The instructions are the genes.

As each cell
is genetically identical

all are perfectly related.

In other words, they're clones.

The cell clones soon number
in the millions.

Depending on their
position in the embryo

the cells
read different chapters

of their
identical instruction books

and form
the various parts of a body:

heads, tails and vital organs.

The miracle
that is a living body

is a mass of
identically related cells--

clones-- working together and
steered by the genes they share.

This bonding
between perfect relatives

can also operate
on a much larger scale.

Like any multi-celled animal,
a seal consists of cloned cells

but on the rocks below
are teams of cloned individuals

that work together
as if in a single body.

Each of these blobs of jelly

is a clone belonging
to one of two opposing armies.

The gap between them--

a battlefront,
frozen by the onset of low tide.

As the tide rises, they reveal
ths sea anemones.

There are two
feuding families here:

a pink-tipped team
and a green team.

They face off
over no-man's-land.

Within each family, the members
are genetically identical--

they are natural clones.

The anemones are formed
like cells in a body

by splitting from one original.

Amazingly,
the resulting army of clones

behaves as if it were one huge animal.

Like a cell in an embryo,
each anemone has a job.

Those in the middle of the body
are the reproducers.

And like a protective outer skin

warrior anemones form
a front line.

Heavily armed
with stinging clubs

the warriors
are also an attack force.

Driven to reproduce

both clone teams on this rock
are trying to expand.

This is clone w*r.

Cloned anemones,
sharing all genes

will die for the team

as will cells in asinglebody.

Skin cells of
a battling elephant seal

die in their millions

but for the winning body,
the payoff is reproduction.

Identical genes to those
carried by the cells k*lled

now have a future.

But when two animals
come together to reproduce

genes must share
their future with others.

The next generation
are not clones.

This baby carries a mix of genes
from both its parents.

And families--
unlike clone teams--

are full of tension

as individuals juggle
sacrifices made for their family

with self-interest.

Caring for the new generation

is the basis
of all animal societies.

This family is
a tight social group

of a female cheetah
and her closest relatives--

her cubs.

A mother protects her young.

Ancient pressures
have molded this instinct.

Predators such as lions
k*ll young cheetahs.

At risk to herself
the mother cheetah

distracts the lion long enough
for her cubs to escape.

The cheetah's protective urge

is as much
a product of evolution

as is her sinuous body

but she must balance
caring for cubs with self-preservation.

In the long run

cheetah mothers rear more young
by giving all the care they can

but without
dying in the process.

The cheetah's maternal instincts

not only cause her
to bring them meat

but as a mammal,
she has evolved another trick--

milk.

By suckling them,
she is their lifeline.

Her maternal care has been
honed by natural selection--

giving her genes a future.

With their mother working hard
to feed and protect them

these babies themselves

stand a good chance
of surviving to breed.

But they also carry the genes
of another parent.

So where is he?

This is their father.

Because the mother
can rear the young alone

he is free to sire more babies
with other females.

Evolution has shaped
virtually all male mammals

to behave this way

since they can pass on genes
without caring for babies.

But there are rare exceptions.

of four titi monkeys--

including mom, a baby...
and dad.

Their lives and
their relationships

are shaped by their home

perilously high
in the forests of South America.

Here, dad sticks around

and he's left carrying the baby.

Mom has lost
most caring instincts.

Her role is limited
to providing milk.

As soon as
she's finished suckling

the baby is passed back to dad.

To survive up here, babies
must be carried everywhere

but mom can't do it.

Making milk
takes up so much

of the energy
she gets from her food

she has none left
to carry babies.

Titi males cannot abandon their
families as most male mammals do

because their
babies would fall, die

and their genes would be lost.

Due to the demands
of treetop life

titi males
have evolved family bonds.

Such two parent families
are very rare in mammals

but not everywhere in the
animal kingdom.

For most birds, parenting
is also a team effort

but if food supply
is unpredictable

there can be
friction in the family.

Masked booby pairs

display a tender and
seemingly affectionate bond.

This nesting colony
is on the Galapagos Islands.

Females lay two eggs.

Many fail to hatch

but if both do,
there's trouble ahead.

Emerging a few days
after the other

the younger chick
is at a dangerous disadvantage.

Their parents struggle
to catch enough fish

for both of them.

And even when they've done well,
there are further problems.

Frigate birds-- masters
of mugging-- target boobies

that have a hard-won
load of fish inside them.

With the fish stolen, both
chicks will go hungry today.

Shortage of food

has turned booby family life
to a battleground.

Older chicks always
force the smaller chick

from the safety of the nest.

The parent
does nothing to stop it.

The exposed chick attracts
the wrong kind of attention...

a hungry frigate.

Life in a booby family
seems harsh

but with its competitor removed,
the older chick may now survive.

But some bird siblings
facing different pressures

don't become enemies;

they become allies.

Southern ground hornbills,
an extended family--

the parents, two adult sons
and last year's chick.

She's the only daughter.

Her sisters left
to set up their own families.

Male offspring never leave home,
but they don't sit around idle.

They help out
with the family business.

It's safely housed in the middle
of this baobab tree.

This year's chick.

Working to feed it
are all the adults...

including the grown-up sons.

This male is feeding a chick
that's not his own

but it isn't wasted effort.

As its brother, he shares
as many genes with the chick

as he would
with his own offspring.

But why does
this family cooperate

when others,
like the boobies, fight?

Teamwork helps to keep this huge
and seemingly insatiable chick

well stuffed.

More importantly,
a big territory is needed

to supply so much food.

Good territories
containing a nesting tree

are very hard to find.

A sons best option
is to delay breeding

until he inherits
the family territory.

Until then, he helps
rear siblings

which carry copies of his genes.

This delayed inheritance of land

bonds hornbills
into an extended family team.

In the same African bushland,
grazing animals such as impalah

are constantly threatened by
a more complex extended family--

a family of predators.

Rudely awakened
by scrapping pups

an African wild dog pack begins
a session of ritual bonding.

In wild dog society

males and females
from two different families

form a new pack.

Leaving the pups behind,
the adults go hunting.

Pack living is deadly efficient.

The pups share genes
with both sides of the family.

Their parents are the oldest
male and the oldest female.

All the dogs pull together
to feed them

and they receive meat
from many mouths.

Sometimes a pair not in a pack
manages to raise a few pups

but this is very unusual.

Wild dogs have enemies
including hyenas.

In a pack, there are more eyes
and ears alert to danger.

In small families,
the pups are usually k*lled.

These puppies are safe,
at least for the moment--

fed and protected
by their complex family team.

Other extended families have
evolved into much larger teams.

In the deserts of southern africa,
after brief rains

sand is damp and workable

and one industrious family
piles two and a half tons of it

into thousands of castles.

The builders are secretive,
subterranean and weird.

This strange rodent is a Damaraland mole rat.

It lives in a vast network
of tunnels, but not alone.

Damaralands live in colonies--

large families
of up to 40 individuals--

and for a reason.

They chomp sand as a team,
furry drill bits

randomly prospecting
for widely spaced prizes.

A strike!

Hundreds of bulbs and tubers,
packed with nutrients and water

are stored away.

Only by working together can
they keep this chamber stocked

and fuel the colony
through the barren dry season.

Father and mother--
the only breeding pair.

Mom and the youngest siblings
eat from the store all year round.

Back at the cutting edge,
the work goes on.

The team must make the most
of the short window of time

before the sand becomes
too dry to dig.

Juveniles going off duty

play-fight on the way to
the communal sleeping chamber.

The exhausting business
of finding food in this dry dirt

has forced mole rats
to work together.

Each of these mounds
of dry dirt

is the castle
of one huge animal--

an animal with a body made up

of a million separate
working parts.

These working parts are
brothers and sisters.

They are termites, living and
working together so harmoniously

that the whole colony acts
like one vast super animal.

These are termite workers,
soft-bodied and blind

making the most of a rare humid
morning to extend their home.

Acting like cells
of the super animal

termites have evolved tools
for different tasks.

Most are workers, or like this
one-- heavily-armed soldiers.

In chambers deep in the mound,
workers cultivate edible fungus.

These chambers form
the super animal's stomach.

But all this life creates
carbonioxide.

If it were to build up, the
super animal would suffocate.

The shape of the mound itself
prevents this.

The high chimneys reach
into the swirling wind

allowing the colony to breathe.

Tubes and chambers are refreshed
with oxygen.

In effect, the super animal has
evolved a gigantic lung.

In the very heart of the mound

lies the super animal's
reproductive organ.

A chamber containing the only
fertile female in the colony--

the living egg production line
that is the termite queen.

All the sterile attendant
workers-- both male and female--

sharher genes, as do the
million others in this mound.

The queen produces an egg
every three or four seconds

throughout her life
of some 30 years.

The baby termites are raised
together in vast nurseries.

These babies are all sterile.

Their life work will be to prepare others

for a momentous night in the future.

Beneath a heavy night sky

the family waits
for the perfect moment.

Just once every year

rain triggers magic
from this muddy mound.

These virgin kings
and queens are

the colonies glittering legacy--

winged messengers
delivering copies

of the super animal's
genes into the future.

Termites are hugely successful,
but are themselves threatened

by an even more powerful
super animal--

the ant.

This is a scout
for a marauding army.

Finding a suitable target,
it heads for home

laying a chemical trail
as it goes.

Other ants will soon follow
this back, in numbers.

The termites are oblivious
to the danger.

The scout's relatives are
K*llers, but picky.

They target only termites.

Termite warriors--
specialized for biting--

defend the front line

but they're no match for
the ants' jaws and deadly sting.

Suddenly the raid is over.

With swift efficiency, the ants
gather mouthfuls of termites

and march home.

The world is ruled
by family teams.

Ants alone outnumber humans
a million to one.

And for a very select
number of species

cooperation can go
beyond family ties.

Such alliances rely on trust.

Every night,
a third of a million bats

pour from this Trinidadian cave
to feed.

Among them,
the greater spearnosed bat.

It has recently been shown

to live in a society
based on trust.

One bat finds an open nut case--
a bat jackpot.

Willing to share,
she calls loudly.

But the bats that respond
are not close relatives.

They are females
that banded together

when they left their parents.

Effectively, they're friends.

Each bat here
is a working mother.

She can take her time
because, remarkably

back at the cave, they operate
a baby-sitting club.

At first sight, this cave
seems to be total mayhem--

a disorderly squeaking rabble--

but a closer look reveals
the method in this battiness.

In each roof dimple

a crèche of babies--
but not home alone.

They have baby-sitters.

Astonishingly

though closely related
to just one or two of the babies

they care for all

listening for a distress call
from any baby in the group.

Flying lessons
are a risky pastime.

Predators wait below.

It must get off the cave floor

and quickly,
before the possum notices.

And in foul pools
lurk other dangers.

Out of immediate risk,
it starts to shriek.

If left here,
it will die of cold.

Alerted by the cries

a baby-sitter
swoops to the rescue

even though
this is not its own infant.

A second baby-sitter arrives.

If the baby's to survive,
it must get a firm grip.

Almost there.

This rescue system works

because these bats
have the brain power

to get to know each other
as friends...

and to trust each other
to be good baby-sitters.

This sort of cooperation
is very, very rare.

Spearnosed bats
are minor league

in this trusting game
compared to one other species--

a species found
throughout the world

spreading
to the remotest corners.

It can even cope with the
extremes of an Arctic winter--

surviving here only through
trusting cooperation.

Humans.

Several cultures have blossomed
in the snow and ice

through the power
of human societies.

In our natural state,
we're naked and defenseless.

All the other animals here
have bodies shaped by evolution

to fight against
the Arctic cold.

Reindeer are born
with natural survival equipment.

Their hairy noses
warm the air they breathe

And their hooves
have become splayed snowshoes.

Confronted by an old adversary,
they rely on safety in numbers.

Warm in their thick coats,
family teams of wolves

hunt across these Arctic wastes.

But neither reindeer herds
nor wolf families

dominate this habitat
as they once did.

Wolves have been driven away
by a newcomer--

the team player
with the added dimension.

Humans have evolved huge brains

giving us uniquely powerful
social skills

based on trusting cooperation.

Although we have
few natural defenses

our societies dominate
much of the earth.

The story of human evolution

is not of people
battling the elements alone.

We are able to share solutions
to survival problems

with other humans
from a much larger society.

Every winter, the Saami people
of Arctic Europe

corral their reindeer,
helped by their families...

and by others
from a wide social circle--

friends that they
will help in turn.

Teaching and sharing knowledge

is just part of the intricate
exchange that makes us human.

Our cooperation
goes beyond families

and a few close friends.

Our huge brains allow us to
keep a mental record of favors

which, one way or another,
we trust will be returned.

We're no angels.

Our brains are packed

with potential
for conflict and cheating

but we have also evolved
a uniquely powerful potential

for cooperation through trust.

Wherever stable human societies
have been created

that trusting potential
has been nurtured.

Trust is the currency
of humanity.

Genes-- life's blueprints--

have been carried on
a ceaseless journey

by countless generations,
for four billion years.

That journey continues today

as survivors
of life's ancient struggle

pass on successful genes.

From humble beginnings

animal teams have risen
dominate our planet.

Winning teams now share
in the great "Triumph of Life."