This is the story of a pool and the
animals that cannot live without it.
It's a place where hippos
and crocodiles survive
in mysterious harmony.
A crowded pool...
where predator and prey
are drawn together
and where strange things happen
that have rarely been seen before.
At this pool thirst can be dangerous,
and drinking...
becomes a deadly game of chance.
When the pool shrinks in
an unrelenting drought...
there is a desperate fight for life.
A wild anarchy takes over that
only the fittest can survive.
Here in a strange communion hippos
attend the last feast of the crocodiles.
A river in Africa...
It's known as the Luvuvhu
or Hippo river,
and where land and river meet there
exists a rich concentration of animals.
For countless years,
this river has sustained life
in the northern reaches of
South Africa's Kruger National Park.
When good rains have fallen
there is abundant water for all,
but this year little rain fell,
the river dwindled to a narrow channel,
and finally stopped flowing.
The pools that remain in the
river-bed are life sustain oases,
and this which is one of
the largest and deepest,
and has never been known to go dry,
is a favorite refuge
for hippos and crocodiles.
For those who have to
drink here each day
the challenge is
to drink and survive.
With over 60 crocodiles congregated
here caution becomes the first rule.
Wise in the ways of the pool,
oxpeckers, on their floating islands,
drink safely,
and these unpredictable giants
don't seem to mind the few extra
ounces of their company.
But, more extraordinary is this young
crocodile, the smallest in the pool,
who's become a regular passenger
and is possibly safer
basking on the surprisingly tolerant
hippos than with its own kind.
Wily baboons have another strategy.
They dig pits at the pool's edge
and drink the seepage water,
rather than risk a croc att*ck.
In contrast, this female impala is so
stressed by thirst she's beyond caution.
Dazed and distracted she finally drinks
in the worst possibly place.
Crocs aren't the only problem here.
These impala have run afoul
of a white- crowned plover,
whose eggs are
in a depression in the sand.
These birds only rest nest near water,
and so, when the river dries,
the fringe of the pool
becomes prime real estate.
But it's also a busy
and dangerous throughfare -
crocs come here regularly to bask.
Crocodiles lumbering up the bank are
a major hazard for the fragile eggs.
But, unlike the timid impala,
the crocs ignore the birds' warning cries.
Lucky this time...
and she settles down again to brood.
Hippos spend their nights grazing,
often far from the pool, and,
by day, they too like to lie
in the warm sun.
A large wet snout,
applied with surprisingly gentleness,
seems all that's needed to clear
some space on the crowded beach.
There's no hurry...
we're all relaxed and easy here,
and the great reptiles gradually
respond to gentle nudges
until all accommodated
to their liking.
Another close call for the plovers.
As the crocodile returns to the pool.
But it's all just part of the price
for a good waterfront site.
Hippos are a nuisance for the plovers
- they don't leave much space
between them.
The rains that usually revive
the river are late this year
and the water level in the pool
drops rapidly.
Fishing birds move on
and find good pickings
among the fish trapped
on the shallows.
The yellow-billed stork's
juggling act is no game,
but a way to tire the fish into
relaxing its sharp, erected spines.
Crocs eat fish too...
they're also cunning thieves...
who deliberately harass the birds
into dropping their fish.
The herons must wet their catch
before they can swallow it,
and the crocs watch closely,
waiting to move on and panic
the bird at just the right moment.
Sometimes these waterbirds appear
to live a charmed life
and to be mysteriously immune
from att*ck by crocodiles.
But birds and reptile
understand each other well.
And the crocs seem to know these birds
are just too alert to be easily caught.
But not all birds are crocodile smart.
Green pigeons don't often drink.
Usually they get enough moisture
from the fruits they eat.
But in the heat of this dry year
the birds are forced to come to water.
And they're innocent of any danger.
The sight of crocodiles spinning
in a feeding frenzy
is enough to frighten
most animals away.
But as the crocs tear apart an nyala
bull, something amazing happens.
A hippo moves on and begins to mouth
and lick the bodies
of the feeding crocs.
Hippos are strictly vegetarians.
She hasn't come for
a share of the spoils.
Why she intrudes
in this way is a mystery.
She is more powerful than the crocs
and her dominance over them
is absolute.
She prods and licks the face of
the biggest croc on the pool -
even as it struggles to swallow
the skull of the antelope.
And then, as if her curiosity
has been satisfied,
she loses interest
and leaves the crocs to their feast.
Elephants don't have to worry about
crocodiles when they drink,
but they still prefer the cleaner water
in the pits and vigorously dig them out.
In the riverbank, near the pool,
a large colony of nesting bee-eaters
are feeding their young.
They must forage continually
in the hot sun to satisfy their needs.
To cool off, every afternoon,
they fly over the pool
and dive for their drinks.
For some of the crocs this is
the signal to take up positions.
The odds are heavily in favor of
the bee-eaters
and most survive the croc strikes.
A thirsty lioness comes to water.
She tries a pit
but finds it full of bees.
She decides to risk the pool.
In heat like this the bees
need water, too.
Lions can go without water
for a long time...
But this one is a nursing mother.
She must drink.
Maybe the bee-pit
isn't so bad after all.
Large flocks of queleas are in the
area, searching for seed and grain.
As they stop by the pool to drink,
their busy fluttering
at the water's edge
inspires the crocodiles with a keen
and almost sporting enthusiasm.
The monitor lizard is the scourge of
both ground nesting birds
and the egg lying crocodiles.
It's a voracious predator,
particularly partial to eggs...
And the feisty plover
immediately declares w*r.
During the heat of the day
the sand becomes unbearably hot
and burns the skin
between the impalas' hooves.
For the plovers on their nest, this
is when easy access to water pays off.
The bird is soaking its breast-feathers
until they are weighted with water.
It then hurries up the scorching sand
to reliever its mate.
The plovers are brooding on sand
that feels hot enough to fry an egg,
and by mid-day they are changing guard
at the nest every ten minutes.
Without the constant protection
of their cool wet feathers,
the eggs could not survive the heat.
The sand is so hot...
it's a wonder she doesn't fly down.
These buffalo have just
one thing in mind.
Their usual watering places
are dry now
and they've had a long,
hot journey to get there.
One of the calves strikes out on its
own and is soon in dangerous company...
But these aren't
the biggest crocs in the pools
and the lucky calf quickly
returns to the herd.
The crocs intentions are clear enough
but before they can find
a small enough victim
the buffalo decide it's time to leave.
An irritated hippo helps them
on their way.
The drought and heat are now so severe
that some animals with small young
cannot supply enough milk, and thirsty
youngster follow their mothers to water
before they're weaned or wise enough
to know how to drink.
In an instant both croc
and fawn vanish into the pool...
leaving behind a bewildered mother.
Somewhere under the surface of the pool
the crocodile lies low with its prey,
waiting for an opportune moment
to eat without having to share.
The most carefree creature
in the pool is this baby hippo.
She frolics around her mother
in that special state
that belongs to all young things.
She is oblivious to the dangers
in her world.
The pool is steadily shrinking and is
already too small for so many animals.
But the hippos can't settle fights
caused by overcrowding.
There is no place else to go.
As usual now, the hippos subside
in an uneasy truce.
Subdued by the day's heat,
and temporarily at peace,
the baboons relax around the pool.
His peace is shattered by
a familiar cry of outrage.
He's innocent
but he's too close to the nest
and the plover has a good eye
for trouble...
...an young male baboons...
are especially targeted.
A sudden spat between rival crocs
send a ripple of panic through the pool.
It's small wonder that the plovers
are having trouble.
A fresh track shows that a crocodile
ploughed right over their eggs.
This is their third nest of the season
that's been lost to the crocodiles.
Starting again from scratch
the plovers perform the ritual of
selecting a site for a new nest.
The baby hippo is exploring her world.
The restraint of the crocodiles seems
out of character,
but with two tons of
devoted mother nearby...
...she is free to treat crocodiles
with the same bold familiarity
as the adult hippos do.
These great artist of v*olence
are obliged to hold a kindly pose
as the hippo child wanders
on her playground
of gently smiling dragons
and slobbers on their tails.
A yellow-billed kite checks pool for
an easy meal, and sights a dead fish.
The surrounding land is parched
and bare and each night the hippos,
must trek for miles to find grazing.
Other animals wander in the river-bed
in search of the few remaining pools.
But most now are little more than
reeking mud wallows,
full of dead and dying fish...
Even so, the impala would drink here,
but the pool is dominated by
a single croc,
the last of a group of more than
forty that were here a month ago.
The monkeys won't risk it - and drink,
instead, in deep footprints.
The fawn's attempt to drink
is a small disaster.
Now it's covered
with stinking mud.
The mother sniffs her offspring
but doesn't recognized it
in this foul disguise.
The crocodile that has held back
the drinkers suddenly leaves.
Perhaps there is no future for it
in this tiny pool.
The mother has made up her mind.
This is not the sweet smelling
youngster she came with.
But the fawn knows better.
The little impala is persistent.
Soon the mud will wear off
and the mother will again accept her.
The crocodile reappears,
covered in fresh red earth.
She thrusts her head into the mud
and swings it from side to side.
At first her peculiar behavior
is a puzzle.
And then her secret is revealed
as her muddy jaws open gently
to release the newly hatched babies
she has carried down
from her nest on the riverbank.
This is the reason she has remained
in the pool so long.
She would never desert her young...
she is their only protection.
But between predators
and the thick mud,
there is no chance
for the little crocs.
And all will die
within an hour.
Back in the big pool crocodiles writhe
and heave over another carcass.
And once again,
hippos are amidst the frenzy.
There's nothing for them to eat,
yet something attracts them here.
With jaws clamped tight on the carcass,
the croc spins until a piece breaks off.
The hippos seems content
to gently interrupt the spinning crocs
from time to time.
But no one knows why
they attend these terrible feasts.
For nine months little rain has fallen.
And the animals risk death for water.
The hippos calm is disturbed
by the violent arrival of
the croc's latest victim.
For this one there will be
no lucky escape.
The baby hippo is already wedged
deep among crocs
close to the impala carcass
and the biggest crocs in the pool.
The mother then does a strange thing.
Rousing herself
to investigate the scene,
she pushes her baby
almost on the impala,
and then retreats leaving her calf
between these jaws and the meal.
The mother's presence is enough
to ensure her safety...
Though the baby seems less certain.
But the mother knows
they wouldn't dare,
and she drifts back on top the secure
slumbers of the strong.
The pool has become so dangerous
that most animals prefer
to drink from the pits...
But a fierce comedy of survival results
when so many are desperate for water.
Large make baboons commandeer the pits
and drink every mouthful of
water that seeps in.
They can scare off most animals,
but sharp horns have the advantage and
the baboon reluctantly gives way.
Competition at the pits is so fierce
that those that can't cope with
a big baboon
have to take their chances
at the pool.
A nursing mother must have water,
but she takes a terrible risk
to get it.
The mother has torn herself free...
But the baboons can see that
another croc has her baby.
The croc will lose its prize to the
others unless it leaves the pool.
But when it does a big baboon
is waiting.
The croc drops the baby.
But the brave rescue is too late.
The drought continues.
It has become the worst
in living memory.
The pool has dwindled to a mud wallow
and many of the hippos have left
on a final quest for water.
But for an increasing crowd of animals
their only chance of salvation
lies here.
For the plovers, no eggs have survived
these cruel and chaotic conditions.
Every day an assemble of desperate
animals gathers around the pool.
These baboons,
who are seldom peaceable,
reach new levels of aggression
among themselves.
Even mothers with small babies do not
escape the brutal bullying.
Baboons still dominate the pits
but a female nyala,
driven by thirst,
is ready to fight for a drink.
Each day now a few baboons appear
with blood on their hands.
Their victims are impala fawns.
Some are orphans of the drought,
others, only temporarily lost and alone.
Trusting and totally defenseless,
they are easy prey
for a strong male baboon.
Unaware of the fate of her offspring,
the mother ranges up and down
the pool, calling.
A hungry warthog roots around for
choice pieces of rotting catfish...
while a kudu, heedless of
the crocs, drinks the mud...
The baboons didn't keep his k*ll
to himself for long.'
Yet the contest seems to be
as much about male dominance
as ownership of a carcass.
Meanwhile the warthog sees
a good opportunity.
She's little slow and no match
for an agile baboon.
As their pool dies around them
the hippos and crocs
lie marooned on the mud,
like creatures made of clay,
half-formed and waiting for
their creator to complete them.
A baboon risks all
on a thin crust of mud
as she searches
for puddles on the surface.
While all around her lie more than
a hundred crocs,
indistinguishable from the mud.
The mother is brave but the life and
death struggle is between these two.
If baboons have nightmares
this is surely one of them.
Torn between terror
and wanting to help,
the mother is unable to
rally any support.
She has escaped with muddy legs...
a sore face and,
possibly a haunting memory.
Right now she needs
some hands on grooming;
but there is none to be
had just a curious stare.
When everything seems to have reached
the end of endurance,
the sky fills with clouds,
and relief seems at hand.
The spell of the drought is broken.
The crocs return to life
and begin immediately to devour
the ripe remains of some old feast...
that was locked in the mud.
But the rain was just a fleeting
reminder of better times.
It does not break the drought.
The withering heat returns and draws
all remaining moisture from the pool.
The last hippo has moved on
and will probably die in
a hopeless search for water.
Only one old crocodile is left.
He was the largest,
the dominant croc.
He shows no signs of leaving.
He remains in his empty pool
like a stranded nightmare.
The other crocs have taken shelter
from the scorching sun
in the vegetation around the pool.
They lie motionless in the shade,
surviving on their last reserves.
The old male croc only
pushes deeper onto the mud,
covering himself
with the remains of his pool.
Six weeks later,
in the center of the pool,
at the place
where the water was deepest,
lies the skeleton of the big male
croc, dominant to the end.
Close by, are the bodies of
more than thirty baboons,
who succumbed when temperature
reached nearly 120 degrees.
And in the surrounding bush,
where they had sheltered from the sun,
are the desiccated remains
of the crocodiles.
But there are survivors.
In holes, dug deep into the riverbanks,
there are a few crocs.
Entombed in the cool dark,
they're able to conserve moisture
and wait for the return of their river.
For some day, beyond the distant hills,
where the weather is made,
it will rain again...
and the end of the drought will come
trickling down the riverbed.
No wild calls will welcome this sight,
but, as the river surges...
And flows deep enough to swim in,
who is to say that
the crocodiles won't rejoice...
and the birds won't revel
in that first flooding.
In nature there are few happy endings...
instead there is a continuing.
When the river returns...
survivors will replenish its banks
and the great cycle of life
and renewal will begin again.
National Geographic: Last Feast of the Crocodiles (1995)
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