01x02 - Savage World of the Coral Jungle

[bunniefuu]

longitude 47 degrees east,
latitude 10 degrees south,

depth 80 feet below
the level of the sea.

This is the coral jungle.

Around the divers of Calypso,
just beyond the circle of their lamps,

night creatures move uneasily,

stirred by the strange sight of man,

the unaccustomed presence of light.

Undersea explorers enter
a well-ordered universe,

seeking to learn its secrets,

to observe and record its life,

the strange, the beautiful,

the tranquil, and the savage.

Today, we begin a program of
experimentation and exploration

around a coral reef.

Equipped with camera and radio,

Philippe Cousteau rides
the wind to survey an atoll.

From the balloon,

Philippe reports that there appears
to be a dangerously narrow entrance

through the fringing reef
into a perfect lagoon.

Calypso steams for the slot.

Safely inside the lagoon,

a coral reef and its exotic life
surround Cousteau and the Calypso.

Over a century ago,

Charles Darwin peered
into the waters of a reef,

longing to observe the
incredible variety of life below.

But only recently,

diving scientists have begun solving
the riddles that confronted Darwin,

bringing understanding
of the coral world

and the full dimension
of its spectacle.

Inside the lagoon,
we are in a giant teacup.

The outside of the cup is a wall
reaching down almost two miles.

The lip of the cup is a
thin necklace of coral.

Our first dive in a world so physically
striking overwhelms our senses.

We are no more explorers,

but children in a store
filled with surprises.

We stop at random to look at the
busy traffic in the crowded cities.

Minute creatures, living coral,

whose skeletons are cemented
together by algae, form the reef.

Each specie of coral gathers into a
distinct shape, like massive boulders.

Tabletop coral fans out
like flattened mushrooms.

Elkhorn coral spreads like the
branches of a Christmas tree.

The brilliant pastels
that entrance the eye

come from encrusting
layers of orange, brown,

or red calcareous algae.

As one generation of coral skeletons
piles atop the next, the reef grows.

Often as much as a half inch a year.

The reef is solid, capable of
withstanding enormous pressure.

On any given day,

the normal trade wind waves
pounding on one of these atolls

dissipate an average force
of 500,000 horsepower.

The giant construction shop,

with its myriad of little homes,
caves, and crevices,

is an attraction center
for tropical marine life.

A highly complex community
develops in the reef,

a coral jungle, with its own rules,
its feasts, its tragedies.

By chance, a fish is born
with some special quality,

like coloration, speed, size, shape,
that thwarts a predator.

This fish survives,
and his kind flourishes.

Around the reef, a delicate balance
has been struck by all inhabitants.

The ray, primitive
cousin of the shark,

perfected over 350
million years of evolution.

Suddenly discovered in daytime,

the night walking sea slug's
frantic race for shelter

becomes an incredibly graceful dance.

The moray eel, more frightening
in look than temperament.

Often a coward, he lurks in
reef caves seeking safety.

Because of the manner in
which they have evolved,

all creatures find themselves
special places,

and there they thrive.

From day to night,
the cycle of reef life changes.

The spiny urchin emerges in darkness
to scuttle about the sandy bottom

at an average speed of a
quarter of a mile an hour,

accompanied by starfish, shellfish,
and a host of night-crawling creatures.

Below the spines, the urchin
is a tasty morsel of food,

but only the thick
skin to dare attack.

Damselfish takes shelter in the
needle forest of the urchin's back.

At the first sign of danger,
a lurking predator,

they run for cover.

The damsels are no
trouble to the urchin,

nor does he bother with them.

The little fish have found
a sympathetic host.

And even when the spiny
creatures gather in large flocks,

each damsel seems to
know its own urchin.

We wanted to see if we could lure
the damsels away from their house.

Trapping urchins in a plastic globe
created chaos among the fish.

In one brief survey,
the damsels make it clear

that they would never
consider the diver

as a substitute for
their favorite urchin.

It is home again, home again,
quick as they can.

It was on the first of March

that we met Maldive Islanders
at work on a coral reef.

The Maldive Islands,
off the southern tip of India,

once lay on the great spice routes
of Europe's merchant princes.

The islanders have only one
source of construction material,

their own fringing reef.

They harvest coral all year round to
use as stones and to make cement.

It may help build houses,

but it reduces the natural protection
offered by the fringing reef

against the waves of the ocean.

A number of such over-exploited
islands have recently disappeared,

eaten away by the swell.

But it is not only man whose
way of life destroys coral.

Herds of bumphead parrotfish,
looking very much like cattle,

graze off the reef itself.

Living coral is the
food these fish prefer.

To obtain it, the bumphead
uses its powerful horny beak.

He bites off chunks of coral,
crushes them,

grinds them into fine sand,
and digests the flesh of the polyps.

The bumphead excretes
the remaining sand.

A single fish is estimated to
produce five tons of sand a year.

For many species on the reef,

schooling is the principal
form of defense.

Some experts believe
that in order to strike,

a predator must single out
one fish from the group.

He is confounded by the school,

a swirling, confusing
cloud of motion and mass.

Smaller species of predators
like these barracuda also school.

For protection, but probably
also for more effective attack.

The larger the fish, the greater
the likelihood of being a loner

and not needing the
support of a school.

Coloration is part of protection,

the bands and blotches adding
further to the predator's distraction.

A fish's colors identify him,

give notice of his presence to
other creatures on the reef.

But threatened by the
approach of a diver,

this unicorn fish retreats
and darkens his colors.

Still sought out, he flees, less
conspicuous than he was before.

A school moves with
uncanny precision,

turning and flowing like a
creature with a single brain.

The secret of this
precise coordination

is the presence of lateral lines
along the sides of each fish.

These lines consist of nerves
sensitive to subsonic pressure waves.

A movement yards
away from the school

is instantly detected
by each of the fish.

We have found that
the smaller the fish,

the greater their tendency to school,

and the more sensitive they are
to any change in the environment.

The diver uses his hand to
generate slight pressure waves

and actually becomes the
unquestioned master of a fish ballet.

But schooling is only one form
of protection from predators.

The porcupine fish possesses another.

His spikes are in
themselves formidable.

But at the first sign of danger, the
porcupine inflates himself with water.

Once fully inflated, the porcupine
can no longer swim effectively,

but neither can he be eaten.

Beautiful sea anemones are
often called poison ivy of the sea.

They are living animals whose
sticky tentacles are poisonous.

They sting, inflicting severe pain

and can even paralyze
fish the size of a sardine.

One tiny creature, the clownfish,

enjoys complete immunity
from the anemone

and lives in close
association with it.

A fish coming in contact
with the anemone

is helplessly paralyzed and
would soon be digested.

Bernard liberates the fish,
but since he was stung,

his behavior is not quite normal.

Predators become
aware of his weakness

and immediately take
advantage of an easy prey.

No mercy is the law of the jungle.

An aggressive grouper noses in.

But the clownfish is
safe from this intrusion,

for even the grouper
will not risk the anemone.

The clown and the
anemone are truly partners,

living in what scientists
call symbiosis.

The clown darts out to food sources
the anemone cannot reach.

It feeds itself until
its hunger is sated.

But then it does fulfill
its part of the symbiosis,

by bringing food
back to the anemone.

The clownfish and the anemone
have long been known as partners.

But this is the first time a
clownfish has ever been filmed

actually feeding the anemone.

June 13th.

We are going to try a test
with a friendly grouper.

Philippe Cousteau will lead the dive,

assuming the primary responsibility
of photographing this experiment.

He is accompanied by Raymond Cole.

Many of the sedentary reef fish

have conquered a vital
space around their home

and consider it to be their property.

There have been successful attempts

to prove this theory in
laboratory aquariums.

But to observe it in the uncontrolled
environment of a reef,

a simple device must be used.

A mirror is something unprecedented
in the undersea world.

It can be used to set off an
unusual reaction in a fish,

particularly a gentle
and lethargic grouper.

This rock cave is the
territory of our grouper.

Confronted with this strange invader,

the mirror image of himself,

the grouper's instincts impel him to
maintain the territory he has staked out.

Baffled but persistent, the
grouper tries to outflank his enemy.

To increase the threat around
the borders of the grouper,

a series of four mirrors is installed,

creating a menacing variation on
the amusement park attraction.

A fish like the grouper patrols
the borders of his territory.

Other fish are admitted into his
realm only if the master so desires.

It is conjecture whether he does
this to protect his food supply

or simply out of pride of ownership.

Actual prolonged combat is rare.

The contest for territory is
usually more threat than fight.

Assessing the situation,
the grouper now takes

the only course of action
allowed by its instincts.

Although perplexed and besieged
from every corner, he attacks.

July 12th.

Four months at sea and it seems
as if the work has just begun.

The jam sessions on board Calypso take
many forms and express many moods.

Among the men there are
separate musical groups,

a classical string quartet,

a rock and roll band,

and a group that plays modern jazz.

For me, another kind of music,
the sounds from the ocean floor.

There are many noises
in the silent world.

Shrimps, crustaceans, fish
and mammals produce sounds.

Except for the sonar signals and
loud chatter of sea mammals,

the noise level is generally low.

Only with the sensitive hydrophone
and powerful amplifiers

is it possible to record, identify
and analyze the noises of the sea.

With specialized equipment,
not only sounds,

but sights, too, can be recorded
in their most minute detail.

Here, 30 feet beneath the surface,

an aquatic motion picture studio,

roofed to screen out
natural illumination,

equipped with lights, camera,
and plenty of action.

It is called macro photography,

the close-up study of a seemingly
empty plot of land on the ocean floor,

that with time and patience,
yields a wealth of hidden animal life.

Motion picture producers
beneath the sea,

they share one problem with
filmmakers the world over.

The stage is set,
the camera is ready,

but all must wait for
the arrival of the actors.

A rare crustacean appears
in gargantuan detail.

Its eyes set on separate swivels.

They shut out excessive light
through a unique internal system

resembling Venetian blinds.

Beneath its body, small paddles
act as ventilators for eggs

and shovels to dig into the sand.

For many years,
I have been mystified

at the sight of tiny volcanoes
on the ocean floor.

Before this voyage, we have never been
able to discover what causes them.

To capture the mysterious Vulcan,

the diver uses a new narcotic,

hoping to subdue it
into momentary sleep.

Beneath a plastic bubble,
the potion is released.

Recording this creature on film
was a moment of good fun.

At long last, we have learned that

Mephistopheles is a
two-inch mantis shrimp.

July 25th.

A report that there is a
nesting triggerfish below

starts some unusual
preparations on board.

Bernard is fortified
with tape and burlap,

arming himself much like a
gladiator going into battle.

In this world of coral,
weakness means death.

The species that is
flawed soon dies out.

The weak and the
uncautious will be eaten.

Among the creatures of the sea,
courage is a common commodity.

To the triggerfish barely
fifteen inches long,

it comes most strongly
during spawning season,

when the mother is left to
keep water flowing on her eggs

and guard them from intruders.

During this time,
all who come close to her eggs,

whether large or small,
must beware of her fury.

The instinct to preserve the species

far outweighs the instinct
to preserve oneself.

And not even an animal outsizing
her by a hundred times

is too big to be reckoned with.

For all her dedication,
only a small number

of the thousands of
offspring will survive.

We have been on the
reef for four weeks,

examining life on the ocean floor.

Now, to set up a new
experiment in fish behavior,

we must collect living samples.

The sea does not give up
its life without a struggle.

To lessen the chances of
damage to the specimens,

Joseph Francois, the ship's
doctor, prepares a drug.

It is called MS-222, shot from
a specially designed g*n.

Its injection into the reef

induces a brief sleeping period
among the inhabitants.

Armed with this formidable
looking weapon, the divers descend.

They carry with them the
Cousteau-designed bubble trap.

Made of sealed plastic,
it has a one-way entrance.

Perfect for containment
in water or on land.

Unequaled for observing
specimens of living aquatic life.

Stunned into unconsciousness, he is
placed in the bubble until he revives.

And the harvest continues.

A familiar friend, the clownfish,
is the most puzzled.

For the first time, his formidable
companion, the sea anemone,

cannot protect him from danger.

Rare specimens all.

In any square yard of ocean bottom,

thrives animal life valued
in the hundreds of dollars

to fish fanciers the world over.

To the tiny damselfish,

the game of hide-and-seek
has a life-or-death connotation.

Knowing every convolution
of the coral he calls home,

the moment a threatening
gesture is made,

he seeks safety in the
depths of its prickly spines.

To predator and curiosity-seeker
alike, this protection is infallible.

Into the life of the reef,
a new situation is introduced.

An artificial aquarium within
nature's own aquarium,

where confinement
has the look of freedom.

Barriers are invisible.

And the teeming population
must come to grips

with a problem they've
never experienced before.

Interestingly, the first
to come to their aid

are members of the same species,

sensing trouble through the
erratic swimming behavior

of their imprisoned companions.

Next to take notice are the predators.

Merely curious at first,
they become excited

by the panicky behavior
within the bubble.

And their mood changes to attack.

A large grouper seems to wonder

how to best take advantage
of their predicament.

The grouper recognizes that the fish
in the bubble are acting strangely.

In the coral reef, this is
equal to a death sentence.

At the first sign of unusual behavior
in a fish, he will be eliminated.

The look of the fish in the bubble
says they are in trouble.

Therefore, they are fair game.

Frustrated, the wrath of
the predator is aroused.

Breaking a bubble
loose from its mooring,

the grouper engages in
an angry game of football.

Were he a bit larger,
or the ball a bit smaller,

the game could end in a sudden gulp.

When they are finally
released unharmed,

the fish will find safety once again
in the protecting arms of the reef.

The continuity of reef
life will be restored.

August the first.

We prepare our last important
exploration of the reef.

Years ago, Darwin looked at the
same kind of atoll from above

and speculated about its origin.

At first, a great volcano
stood in this place.

Along its sloping sides,
coral began building a fringing reef,

creating a circle around the island.

As the volcano slowly
sank into the ocean,

the reef continued to grow.

Inside the ring, a shallow
lagoon was formed

as sand and coral debris filled the area
around the subsiding mountain top.

Falco leads the team of deep divers

on the journey toward
the bottom of the reef.


limit for divers breathing air.

Further down, the divers'
mind becomes confused

by what is called nitrogen narcosis,

making professional work
a hazardous procedure,

and amateur diving
a foolhardy escapade.

The submerged decompression
chamber facilitates deep diving,

for the major problem does not
involve going down, but coming back.

To make the ascent safer,
more comfortable, and faster,

the ponderous SDC is used.

Lowered in water at the
depth where the deep divers

should stop their ascent for
the first decompression stage.

It serves as a way stop.

Delois, the cameraman,
Bonassi, and Falco

will be using a helium-oxygen mixture

to avoid deadly narcosis while working
at 200 or even 300 feet of depth.

Beyond the rigid check system,

there is an extra sense of care
to the preparation of the dive.

The helium-oxygen mixture goes
into an extra-large tank block,

twice as cumbersome as the
streamlined Calypso backpacks.

When the chamber reaches 150 feet,

air divers will remain with it as tenders,

while Falco, Bonassi, and Delois
go to the bottom of the reef.

Each foot they travel represents more
than a human generation in time.

At almost 300 feet,
Falco discovers a cave.

Eons ago, when the atoll was young,

a strong glaciation period
lowered the level of the oceans,

and the action of waves have eaten
away at the wall of the reef.

The study of living animals in
the reef holds endless surprises.

But it is here,
as we attempt to trace

the fundamental physical
history of the atoll,

that my imagination
is really challenged.

Secrets compressed in coal
across millions of years

may be learned when
we analyze the samples.

Pulsations of the oceans
through glaciation periods

will be accurately dated.

Helping sketch a living picture
of Earth in its earliest days

is the tantalizing prospect before us.

Embedded in the coral are the signs of
the life that existed around the reef.

As the tiny polyps formed
skeletons out of limestone

they distilled from seawater,
the reef grew.

Generations of coral skeletons
piled atop generations

in nature's gradual cycle.

This reef still lives, still grows,

and it is possible to read
in the coral of the cave

the complex relationship
between plant and animal

that existed here long
before men appeared.

More and more the
living reef is threatened.

It is at the mercy of a hurricane
that would destroy the outer reef,

of heavy rains that
would reduce salinity,

of water pollution from
careless tankers passing by.

Falco, Bonassie, and Delois have worked
for more than 20 minutes in the cave.

They have been able to stay
here only because of the helium.

During prolonged deep dives,

a large quantity of helium dissolves
in the blood and body tissues.

Now they must take a very slow ascent

to avoid a severe or even mortal
decompression accident.

If they go up too quickly,

the helium would begin
bubbling in their blood streams,

causing fatal bends.

The first stop on their
ascent will be the SDC,

the submerged decompression chamber.

The chamber simulates a gradual ascent.

There is one last difficult
procedure to be accomplished.

The narrow interior of the
decompression chamber

is too small to accommodate the
men and their bulky tank packs.

The yellow helmeted air
divers stand by to help,

while the deep divers
shed their tanks.

With the tanks in place on
the side of the chamber,

the divers take one last
long breath of helium,

and swim for the compressed
safety of the chamber.

I know we have taken all
conceivable precautions,

but a cable may snap,
a valve may leak,

with the life of three men
committed to the mechanism.

It is at times like these that I worry
most about the men of my team.

Once the three-ton chamber
is on deck, the worst is over.

Decompression will last one
hour and forty minutes.

Just twenty years ago,
this almost routine venture

would have been looked
upon as a miracle.

For the last thirty minutes
of their decompression time,

Falco, Bonassi and Delois
breathe pure oxygen

to finally rid their systems
of both helium and nitrogen.

It is August the 8th, four months
since Calypso arrived at the atoll.

Always, we leave a
coral reef with regret.

The cathedral of stone lacework below

is a precious container of beauty,

and we have done our best

not to disturb the delicate
balance of life within it.

Millions of years ago,
a volcanic island stood proudly here,

covered with forests and
aloud with birdsong.

It slowly sank deep into the ocean.

Today the bustling coral jungle

is a fragile memorial
to a long-lost paradise.