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 attack.
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 attack 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 war.
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...
laving behind a bewildered mother.
Somewhere under the surface of the pool fthe 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 violence 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 kill 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.