Wild Himalayas – Home of the Red Panda | Free Documentary Nature

On the roof of the world, the jagged Himalayas seem to split the sky. In their shadow, a misty and mysterious kingdom hides a little-known world. It's home to a wild cast of characters that are rarely seen and largely unstudied. In the midst of their colorful dramas, one remarkable and adorable creature stands out. The extremely rare red panda. Join us for the extraordinary adventures of Tashi. Nowhere on earth is the clash of continents more dramatic than in the Himalayas, where India smashes into Asia, thrusting up the highest mountain range on earth. Ten of the top 14 tallest summits in the world scrape the sky here. Underneath the clouds, lush mountain forests spread as far as the eye can see. They are mostly impenetrable, and that's proved a salvation for one of the most elusive animals in the world. The red panda has rarely been filmed in the wild, keeping its secrets to itself. Its companions in this vast emerald fortress are equally exotic. There are sacred monkeys, gloriously colorful birds, rare hooved beasts seemingly assembled by a committee, and a top predator, the leopard. Deep in this vast mountain kingdom lives Tashi, a female red panda and a young mother. Tashi lives in the shadow of the Kanchanjunga, a sacred icy mountain. But further down these slopes, it's practically barmy. To the south of Kanchanjunga, winters are brief, sometimes lasting only a few days. With her luxuriant cinnamon fur, Tashi barely registers the snow. She's fixated on the nutrient poor bamboo that she must eat and eat and eat. She has an admirer, he chirps out a love song. It's December, the start of the mating season. Perhaps distracted by the male, Tashi slips on the bamboo and decides to move off. Looks like he's got his heart set on her though, and is soon hot on her trail. He hustles along after her at top red panda speed. At first, Tashi ignores his flirtatious antics, and he gives chase to no avail. Rebuffed for the moment, he sets about marking the area, hoping his seductive scent will win her over. She tolerates his presence, but soon she's all about the bamboo again. Endearingly, he waves as if flexing his muscles to impress. Apparently, his performance carries the day, and she allows him to approach and share her bamboo perch and feast. At almost 28,000 feet, Chili Kanchenjunga is the third highest mountain in the world. At lower elevations though, winter is banished as quickly as it arrives in the dense forests, home to thousands of plant species, rhododendron woods, and undergrowth packed with all-important bamboo. Everything about Tashi is built for bamboo. In Nepali, her species name, ponja, means bamboo eater. And from ponja comes the name, panda. The red panda, also known as the lesser panda, was discovered in 1825, 50 years before her more famous namesake, the black and white giant panda. One thing the red panda has in common with the giant panda, however, is its obsession with bamboo. Since bamboo is so tough and low in nutrients, Tashi has to eat continuously, consuming a third of her body weight every day. When she's not eating, she's a champion napper. Red pandas are the sloths of the Himalayas. Tashi's home lies on the border between Nepal and the Indian state of Sikkim, where people have eked out a living for thousands of years. This is Buddhist country, and prayer flags flutter everywhere. The Buddhists believe in reincarnation, and this imbues them with a deep respect for all forms of life, including the panda. But while men, their cattle, and the Himalayan wildlife have long coexisted peacefully, now human population growth presses deeper into the panda's forest, claiming more and more resources. And it's not known if this will put extra stress on Tashi, especially as an expectant mother. February ushers in the glories of spring. Cobra lilies emerge and grab at sunlight. The rhododendron we recognize from our gardens actually originated in the Himalayas, but here it forms entire forests. This rufous sibia sips sweet nectar, and inadvertently carries pollen from bloom to bloom. The rufous-vented yuhina hunts for insects and refreshes itself with sweet nectar from the flowers. Pink blossoms rain down to the forest floor, the signature of hungry squirrels above. Everywhere, the birds and the bees hurry to make hay while the sun shines. The green-tailed sunbird's long, curved beak allows it to reach deep into the mahonia blossoms. These tiny birds bear a striking resemblance to American hummingbirds, but they don't hover. Instead, they grasp the yellow mahonia clusters with their feet to suck up the nectar. They are barely double the size of the bumblebee. A female sunbird busily harvests fuzz from magnolia buds. A spectacularly-hued male tries to catch her eye. The fluff will make for a cozy family nest if she accepts him. In April, Tashi becomes restless. She's as agile as a feline moving from branch to branch, earning the nickname cat bear. But she's neither cat, nor bear, nor raccoon. In fact, red pandas even form their own family within the animal kingdom. It's high time Tashi found a suitable nursery, and she scours the forest for the perfect real estate for a single mother and baby. It needs to be snug, well-hidden, easy to defend. Her ideal hideaway, a hollow tree trunk, eludes her. Her search could take weeks. Undercover of the cloud forests, another truly remarkable mountain dweller has already given birth. A rare creature and the national animal of Bhutan. It's the bizarre-looking takin, with a moose-like head, wildebeest-like horns, and the massive shoulders of a bison. The bulky takin may look out of place among the rocks and cliffs, but is actually nimble and quite at home here. The calves are only about three weeks old, but they are already sure-footed on the rocky terrain as they follow their mothers up the steepest slopes. Large spurs stick out above their hooves. On steep ground, these dew claws dig in and provide stability, so they can negotiate the most precarious slopes with assurance. Takins are noted for eating almost any vegetation they can get their mouths on. They normally only give birth to one calf, but females are often seen with several youngsters. They're happy to act as surrogate aunties to each other's babies. After two months, the little ones are still getting most of their nutrition from their mother's rich milk. They won't be weaned for nine months. The takins will remain on the thickly forested slopes until April, where the calves engage in their first mock battles for dominance in the herd's hierarchy. Predators have little chance against these expert climbers. Armed with tempers as fierce as their backwards-curving horns, the adults have few enemies. A Himalayan black bear, nonetheless, keeps a lookout for a stray calf, but the youngsters are well guarded by a fortress of adults. The female bear backs off, taking her cub in search of a less intimidating meal. In the middle of the rhododendron forest, Tashi has finally discovered a suitable lair. It is high time, as her baby is due any day now. Tashi is as obsessive as any mum when it comes to the nursery. She checks for signs of unwanted visitors. Another panda may have tried to stake a claim here. Worse, a predator might have scoped out the little nursery. Tashi checks things out with her nose and with a special sensory organ under her tongue. For now, she's satisfied. All is well. But there's no rest for the pregnant panda. Tashi ventures out again and again to look for insulating material for the nest. Deadwood, leaves, branches and moss will do. Bamboo is not just for eating. The stems make for sturdy building material. But they require a little effort. With teeth and skilful paws, she patiently shapes the bamboo to the perfect size. Each time she returns to the nursery, Tashi continues her home improvements. It's a bit of a mess. But Tashi clears up, spreading the new building material around and creating a little sleeping hollow with her snout. Everything needs to be cosy for the birth of her cub. Outside, a colourful neighbour appears. A male satyr tragopan, a pheasant. The dull-feathered female seems more intent on food than fashion. But the show hasn't begun yet. And it's an eye-catching display, sure to impress. He starts with a love chant. Then plumps up his feathers to magnify his size. Next, he extravagantly shakes out his skin wattle. Normally hidden, but luminously blue during mating season. And if that's not enough to infatuate the mousy female, he breaks out the big guns. His elaborate dance. Nearby, others flaunt their colours. Two Himalayan monads fight raucously over a territory. The skirmish not only demonstrates strength and fitness, it shows off their brilliant hues to best effect. The changing light makes the plumage dance like the colours of the rainbows that glow at the countless mountain waterfalls. At one waterfall, a plummiest water redstart is courting. From his rocky stage, he flits and twirls. His calls are pitched at a perfect frequency to cut through the noisy waterfall. After mating, the pair will build their nests in rocky crevices by the stream or behind a small waterfall. Tashi is only days away from giving birth. And her signature grace in the trees becomes more lumbering. She's been pregnant for about five months and eating for two. The extra baby weight means she has to stick to thicker branches and move with extra care. Gone are the days when she navigated the treetops like a cat. Nearby, a lot of monkey business is going on. These grey langurs have reason to celebrate. The magnolia trees are blossoming, a once a year treat. The petals make a sweet spring salad. They're in langur heaven. Normally, the langurs eat mostly leaves. So these fresh flowers provide extra nutrients and energy. The magnolias are in bloom for just two weeks and the monkeys make the most of them, rubbing full and contented bellies. In the shadow of the Himalayas, June has arrived. And something wonderful has arrived with it. Tashi's baby. Normally, red pandas give birth to twins and occasionally up to three cubs. But Tashi has had a single baby, a little girl. In the first few days, Tashi has hardly left the hollow. But now she goes out on regular forays for new twigs to pad things out. Her baby is two weeks old and its eyes are still shut. Tashi says hello by sniffing at the youngster and licking its fur. This not only cleans her coat, but helps mother and child to bond. Only in a special filming burrow can we capture intimate details like this. Carefully, she lifts her protesting baby to one side to clean up her waste. The young mother also regularly licks the den clean, so would-be predators can't smell it. When Tashi is hungry, she forages as close to the den as possible. When it's not suckling, the little cub is sleeping and apparently dreaming of warm milk. Tashi has eaten most of the nearby bamboo and must venture further into the forest. And in her absence, a little stranger approaches. Fortunately, a harmless one. A toad on a mission. The dreaming cub doesn't even register its presence. The toad isn't looking for a home, but a changing room. It's bursting out of its old skin, shredding it with its feet. This is a vulnerable time for the toad and the den provides safe haven. Plus, the humidity in the nursery makes it easier to slough off his old outfit. Freshly attired, the toad heads for the exit. The young mother checks in, realizes the toad poses no threat and continues to forage. Tashi now senses a change in the weather. A big one. By late June, the monsoon season has arrived. Massive clouds, pregnant with moisture from the Indian Ocean, accumulate over the Himalayas. For about three months, it pours. In some areas, hundreds of inches of rain can fall during the season. Unimaginable amounts of water cascade down from the roof of the world. The greatest rivers in Asia spring from the Himalayas. More than two billion people depend on this deluge, a quarter of the world's population. Little mills along the streams continuously turn Buddhist prayer wheels. As the drum revolves, Buddhist mantras for the benefit of all creation spin upward to the gods. But less holy forces threaten Tashi's forest waterways. Plans for more than 400 dams are in the works all around the Himalaya. Dams that would forever alter this landscape in order to power the growing economies of India, China and Pakistan. The Buddhist belief that all nature and all creatures are sacred has run up against the inexorable march of population and progress. It's one of the largest water grabs in the world. And even the mystical powers of great Kanchenjunga may not keep the Himalayas from becoming the most dammed region on the planet. Next to rain-soaked prayer flags, a group of grey langurs patiently endures the monsoon. Close relatives of these langurs live as temple monkeys in much warmer regions of India. Here, the mountain langurs need a thick coat to keep the cold at bay. And that coat needs careful maintenance, with a little help from your friends. They're generally more peaceful than their cousins, which helps them to conserve their energy in the harsher climate. Langur females form close-knit groups, cheerfully babysitting each other's young. That way, mothers get much needed breaks to forage in peace. The monsoon certainly hasn't dampened the spirits of the youngest langurs for whom the forest is a perfect gymnasium. They tussle and tumble. They lunge and leap. They even do cartwheels. At the age of about two years, they'll be weaned, leaving their mothers free to breed again. Deprived of mother's milk, the older juveniles have to make do with a bland, leafy diet. The monsoon is far from over. But thanks to her fur, with its long guard hair and thick undercoat, Tashi shakes off the cold and damp with ease. For her little girl, snug in the nursery, the monsoon may as well not exist. Panda babies are slow to develop, profoundly uncoordinated, and aside from mum's dedicated care, completely defenceless. Nearby, a red panda's worst nightmare lurks. One that poses a real threat to the baby. It's a yellow-throated marten. Tashi nervously heads for the entrance to investigate. She wouldn't stand a chance against the completely fearless predator. But it's not the panda the marten has in its sights. It's a pika, a little mammal that can rival even a red panda in cuteness. The pika bolts, followed by the marten, which completely missed the scent of the panda nursery. Tashi's obsessive homemaking has saved the day. The cub is now four weeks old. Her eyes and ears have opened. And she's crawling around. But she's still utterly dependent on mother. Tashi redoubles her efforts to keep her child and nursery immaculate after the close call. Tashi's human neighbours farm and raise livestock at the foot of the sacred mountain. Monsoon season is also leech season. The bloodsuckers are only active in summer when it's humid and become the bane of domestic animals that roam the pastures of the bamboo forest. The leeches clamber onto leaves to await their victims. They're surprisingly agile, using their suckers to move. When livestock arrives in the forest, the leeches make the leap from leaf to victim. They inject an anticoagulant before they start feasting on the blood. Most of the time, the animals don't even know they're there. But gold-billed magpies know and become the livestock's unlikely allies, plucking the parasites from their fur. Normally, the birds feed on large insects. But plump leeches are a nutrient-rich treat for them. Someone else is out for blood, too. The yellow-throated marten has caught a chicken in the village and lugs it home. The female marten announces it's dinner time to her youngster in their tree hollow. The juvenile was born months ago and it's time for meat to become a staple of his diet. The parents are ready to tuck into the chicken thanks to father's hunting prowess. It's a bountiful meal for a family of three. But where's that juvenile? Of course, being delinquent, he's decided this is playtime, not time for a formal meal. His mother seems to be torn between her child and the chicken. Both parents watch the gymnastics display. Then mother finally joins in. Play strengthens their bond, vital for future hunting trips. When hunting in groups, these martens have been known to take down animals as large as barking deer. Underfoot, another extremely secretive and agile animal calls the bamboo forest home. The tiniest land mammal on earth, Etruscan shrews are much smaller than your little finger, barely one and a half inches and weigh just a sliver of an ounce. They're widely distributed throughout Eurasia, but because they live so secretively, no one knows much about them. They're so frenetic, they burn calories like crazy and need to eat twice their weight in food every day. Their hearts beat up to 1500 times per minute. The nearsighted little shrews navigate mostly by touch, helped by long whiskers and special sensory hairs on their legs and tail. Don't let their size fool you though. They're fierce little hunters. In her den, her teeny young are waiting. When they were born, they weighed about as much as a pea. The mother suckles the minuscule creatures for 20 days. To make room in her tiny body for more food, she needs to expel any undigested matter. The gyrating hips probably help to get it all out. The frenzied mother is constantly relocating her tiny babies by caravanning within the den. Perhaps for protection from predators, perhaps to teach them the ins and outs of their nest. The youngsters bite into the base of the tail of the sibling in front of them and the mother simply tows her family around the nursery. There's always one in the bunch who loses the shrew train. Not to worry, the dedicated little mum quickly comes to the rescue. Tashi has grown a bit bored with bamboo and is looking for a change. And this satyr tragopan just might provide it. All other pheasants breed on the ground. Only tragopan pheasants nest high in the trees, sometimes 25 feet up. Few humans have ever laid eyes on these hidden nests. For four weeks, the female will brood up here. Even so, she has to leave the eggs from time to time to eat some leaves or have a drink. Tashi seizes the moment. As bamboo is extremely low in nutrients, she likes to supplement her diet with proteins, small vertebrates, worms and eggs. She makes her way silently toward the nest. She's graceful even climbing down headfirst. Like all red pandas, she's well equipped for life in the trees. Strong, sharp claws allow her a tight grip on the bark. The hairy soles of her feet give her more traction when it's wet. But it's all for naught. The hen appears in the nick of time and her brood is safe. So no protein on the menu for Tashi today. Not far off, another tragopan pheasant and her chicks inspect the forest floor. It's a tutorial with mum pointing out what's good to eat. They're quick learners and deft peckers even at this young age. If it gets chilly, mother will gather her little ones around her and warm them with her body heat. Finally, September arrives and the heavy clouds begin to disperse. The monsoon has ended along with the torrential rains. A beautiful autumn moves in under the roof of the world. Tashi is still diligently gathering twigs. But this time she's shopping for educational toys, not building material. She takes these home to her growing daughter to play with. But the little girl is snoozing as usual. So mother leaves her presents and heads out for more. Tashi's girl finally rouses herself, groggily. Now three months old, she explores her nursery and plays with the twigs mother has left. It's dexterity training for using her claws, which she'll soon need for climbing and manipulating bamboo. She's happily oblivious to the outside world and its creatures, like leopards. Tashi spots the predator and heads for the treetops. The big cat can't follow her onto the thin branches. More importantly, he hasn't discovered Tashi's den. Only when the coast is cleared does Tashi head for home. She's made a decision. The old nursery location is no longer safe. It's time to move house. With the gentlest of bites, she picks the cub up by the scruff of its neck. After some squeaks of protest, the baby panda soon goes limp. Paralyzed but comfortable, the little one becomes a perfectly portable package. With a wisdom born of instinct, Tashi has a backup plan. She long ago picked out and outfitted a second den for just such contingencies. The little cub soon settles down after the stress of the move, a little cuddle, and her tiny world is back in order. Tragically, there are worse threats than leopards out in the larger world. One is poaching. Their soft, warm fur is in demand for hats, whereas collar trimming for coats, a lucrative business. Most of the victims end up in China, where a booming economy means people can afford such ill-gotten luxury. In the past 50 years, red panda numbers have fallen by half. It's unlikely that there are even 10,000 red pandas still alive today. Conservationists and scientists struggle to fight back. They install camera traps in places where the pandas regularly visit. Panda toilets. The fastidious creatures like to do their business in the same place, away from their lairs. Camera traps help researchers survey the number of animals in the area, and the photos also help them catch poachers red-handed. But even poaching pales beside the greatest threat of all. Deforestation and the fragmentation of mountain forest habitats. The growing human population fuels a voracious demand for firewood and construction material. There is hope. In some places, vast tracts of mountain forest areas remain pristine. Autumn brings a bit of variety to the menus of the mountain forest inhabitants. It's not only the large-billed crows who love the Himalayan white bean. Tashi also craves them. A refreshing change from tough bamboo. If she can, Tashi will only eat fruit for days on end. Wild kiwis, yew berries, as well as the rowanberries. They're much more nutritious than the fibrous bamboo. The cub is now over three months old, and still fond of napping above all else. But mother has other ideas. It's time for the cub's first adventure outside the lair. With a little coaxing from mum, the sluggish cub finally gets to her feet and heads for the door. It's a brave new world, full of things to experience for the first time. She sticks close to Tashi, who introduces her to their universe. A universe of trees. It's a little disorienting up here. Very tentatively, she puts her climbing skills to the test. And slowly, but surely, navigates the branches. Full of new tastes and smells. Tashi shows her where the best foraging is. And soon, the cub is nibbling away at her first bamboo dinner. Noisy neighbours interrupt their bamboo reverie. Assam macaques. Adult males can be up to two or three times the weight of a fully grown red panda. These macaques are usually herbivores, but they've been known to hunt and eat meat. Right now, fortunately, they show no interest in the newcomer in the treetops. They'd rather squabble and screech. Quakes with fear. Tashi decides that's enough adventure for one day. Together, they pick their way back to the den. There's no place like home. In the familiar confines of the lair, snuggling with her mother, the cub quickly calms down after the excitement of her first outing. On the other hand, she's had a first taste of the dangers the forest may hold. Tashi's daughter is safe for the moment. The little panda will stay with her mother for another two or three months. Then she'll have to fend for herself. And one day, become a single mother like Tashi. Another gorgeous red ghost in the shadow of the Himalayas.