Underwater Creatures - The Legacy of Jacques Cousteau | Free Documentary Nature

Many people have unattainable dreams, discovering places no one has ever seen, inventing something that changes the world, winning an Oscar. French explorer Jacques-Yves Cousteau achieved all that and more. He was a pioneer in many areas, especially underwater. His life and films inspired millions of people. Through the lens of his camera, he opened the world's eyes to the vulnerability of the oceans. His groundbreaking inventions enabled humankind to dive into unknown underwater kingdoms. But much of what he did was also controversial. It took him years to realize that human activity can destroy the ocean. Nowadays, Jacques Cousteau's legacy is fading from memory. What remains of his life's work? What do the places featured in his famous films look like now? Combining historical and new footage, today we unearth the undersea world of Jacques Cousteau. With its kaleidoscopic colors and abundance of corals, the Red Sea was one of Cousteau's favorite film locations. He spent many months here in the 1950s and 60s aboard his famed ship, the Calypso. Cousteau's team of researchers explored the depths off the east coast of Africa to shoot The Silent World, one of the very first underwater documentaries in color. At a time when diving was rare and underwater cinematography even rarer, it was a huge sensation. It earned Cousteau the first of three Academy Awards. Images like these had never been seen before. Cousteau opened audiences' eyes to a perfectly unspoiled paradise. Nearly 60 years after Cousteau's expedition into The Silent World, we retrace his voyage. What do the Red Sea's coral reefs look like now? What has become of the underwater paradise? Our first port of call is a coral reef called Sha'ab Rumi. Stefan, one of our biologists, will catalog the reef's inventory. Sha'ab Rumi off Sudan was the site of a sensational experiment conducted by Jacques Cousteau. Entering the atoll requires utmost concentration. The channel connecting the open sea to the sheltered lagoon is extremely narrow. Cousteau and his team blew up part of the reef to allow the Calypso to pass. 10 meters beneath the surface, there's a magnificent garden of soft corals. At first glance, taking a scientific inventory of the reef seems unnecessary. Everything you'd expect to find in a tropical sea seems to be here. A giant moray eel is getting the once-over from some cleaner fish who feed on scales and parasites. But an imposter has snuck its way in. Instead of cleaning the moray, this cleaner fish is biting off pieces of flesh. There's even more trouble ahead. A sizable grouper makes itself at home in the moray's hideout. Meetings like these can often spell trouble. The eel thinks this is too close for comfort and takes off. Deeper down at a depth of around 25 meters, the water absorbs the red wavelengths of sunlight. So down here, bright red is a good camouflage color. Without artificial light, these red corals look inconspicuous. Shah Abrumi's deeper southern plateau is the realm of larger shoaling fish. These black-spotted rubberlips spent the night hunting for snails, crustaceans, and other invertebrates. They'd probably like to rest, but some nearby groupers are making them anxious. If they're hungry, they might forget that rubberlips are usually too big a snack for them. The wealth of fish and the reef's sheer beauty make it plain to see why Jacques Cousteau thought Shah Abrumi was the perfect spot to conduct one of his most spectacular experiments. He fulfilled one of his greatest dreams here in the early 1960s. Conshelf II was an underwater laboratory where six deep-sea divers lived and worked for a month. Cousteau wanted to show that people could inhabit the ocean for extended periods of time. The project was co-funded by the oil industry. Back then, Cousteau was still more interested in exploiting the ocean than protecting it. For a laboratory, the sunken colony had quite a relaxed working environment. The researchers smoked, drank, and socialized. Cousteau and his wife, Simone, celebrated their anniversary down here. Some of the ruins from Cousteau's deep-sea complex still remain. Today, the submarine hangar is completely grown over. Corals and fish have claimed it as their own. Under the watchful gaze of hawkfish, the steel construction has gradually transformed into a coral reef. The inside of the hangar has also become a habitat for fish. Sweepers feel well-protected here. The construction used to be filled with compressed air. Now, there's just a musty layer of stale vapors up top, mostly exhaled by recreational divers. The garage is the biggest building left over from Cousteau's undersea suburb. Close by, you can make out what's left of a shelter for underwater scooters. It has also been taken over by marine life. At first glance, the elaborate setting where Cousteau shot his film, World Without Sun, appears to be in good shape, as if untouched and in its original state. But what if we take a closer look? By taking biological count, we'd like to find out which species live here. And are there any that should be here but are missing? Back in the 1950s, Cousteau also wanted to make a census of the marine life here. The methods he used were typical for the time, but seem very drastic now. We recreated these scenes using fish from the fish market and computerized magic. We'd never have blown up a reef for a film project. In this day and age, that's not only frowned upon, it's illegal. Cousteau and his crew didn't think twice about it back then. The ocean was so big, and the holes from dynamite so small by comparison. 60 years on, scientific methods to determine the reef's quality are much more refined. Constanza and Stephan, two biologists on our team, are preparing what's known as a reef check. It will reveal whether the reef is thriving or has been degraded by pollution or overfishing. The key instrument for monitoring is a line, which is carefully laid across the coral surface. Then Stephan floats above the rope and counts the fish to the left and the right of it. He pays closest attention to a few species that have certain distinguishing marks. If there aren't any parrotfish, for instance, that's a sign of overfishing. A healthy reef would also have several kinds of butterflyfish. They're not edible fish, but can often be found in aquariums. Fish are only one part of the reef's ecosystem. Stephan also takes stock of the invertebrate animals, and of course, corals. The healthier the reef, the thicker the growth of long-living stony corals. The results of the reef check are sobering. At first glance, the wealth of sea life is breathtaking, but many species are missing. We haven't spotted a single turtle in two weeks. There are no mid-sized groupers, a popular fish for food. There are fewer butterflyfish here than elsewhere in the Red Sea. There's one last thing to check. How do things look for the top of the marine food chain? Sharks. The evening before our shark dive at Shah Abrumi, the crew watches a documentary showing how sharks were treated in the past. They were shown no mercy. Cousteau and his explorers also slaughtered them by the masses. He even proudly featured a terrible, very bloody shark massacre at one point in his film, The Silent World. The reasoning behind the killings was that sharks pose a deadly threat to divers. Now, such meaningless cruelty is met with horror. 60 years ago, people were convinced they were doing good. Later, Cousteau was apparently ashamed about the shark massacre. Even in his books about sharks, there's no mention about his own wrongdoings. Lights. Sky. Cut. The next morning, we once again dive to the atoll's southern plateau. We try our luck near one of Cousteau's old shark-proof cages. Scuba divers usually use bait to attract sharks, but that's illegal on the Sudanese coast. Our biologists, however, have a trick up their sleeve. No one knows why, but some sharks are drawn to the sound of squeaking plastic bottles. Gray reef sharks approach, each about three meters long. They're merely curious, not aggressive, and certainly not hungry enough to want to eat us. Nowadays, we know that sharks are key to maintaining the balance between hunters and the hunted. A healthy ocean needs sharks. A more serious danger during our shark dive comes from a very different kind of fish. This fellow evidently feels disturbed by the camera operator. Angry titan triggerfish can easily bite off a diver's ear, a prickly situation. In the 50s and 60s, Jacques-Yves Cousteau showed people the beauty of the Red Sea. Using state-of-the-art technology, much of which he invented and designed himself, he let us peer into unknown deep-sea kingdoms. But in accordance with the zeitgeist of that time, he also committed terrible deeds, which now seem incomprehensible. Back then, the ocean seemed indestructible and full of endless possibilities. It may sound like a paradox, but the fact that we now think of it differently is partly due to his efforts. The next part of our journey, tracing Jacques Cousteau's odyssey, takes us to a place where he experienced a huge change of heart. Another continent, another sea. We're departing the port of Marseille in southern France, just like Cousteau did with his friends 70 years ago. As a young man, he undertook his first attempts at underwater diving in the Mediterranean. In fact, it was here that he invented modern scuba diving. In the early 1940s, Cousteau and his friends, Philippe Taillet and Frédéric Dumas, explored underwater fishing. They converted garden hoses into self-made snorkels and made flippers from rubber mats. In wartime, they harpooned fish to feed their families and captured their adventures on camera. Largely unnoticed by the public, a technological revolution was born on the Côte d'Azur. By developing an underwater breathing apparatus and film camera, Jacques Cousteau was about to change the world. Underwater cinematography had already captivated audiences. To shoot this film, the camera operators stood in a waterproof cabin. Cousteau, however, helped to liberate the camera. By making its container waterproof, audiences got a fish-eye view of divers, fish and shipwrecks for the very first time. Even more mind-bending was an invention that Cousteau co-designed with engineer Emile Gagnon. Up until then, underwater exploration had been a clumsy, cumbersome and dangerous affair. An air hose connected divers to the surface as they stomped robotically across the ocean floor. The diving regulator turned divers into human fish. They could glide freely through the water instead of plodding along the ground. They floated weightless in three-dimensional space. Their freedom now knew no bounds. Cousteau was particularly fascinated by shipwrecks. Plundering them was the source of his first successful films. Only one of those wrecks still exists today, the Daton vessel that sank in 1923. Not a trace is left of the other shipwrecks after being plundered by divers, dismantled by scrap collectors or simply dissolved by the saltwater of the sea. Divers who visit the Daton now still find the same ghostly atmosphere that attracted Cousteau and his friends. But over the decades, the sea has transformed. In the 70s, large parts of the Mediterranean had become a lifeless desert. Untreated sewage, toxic chemical waste and overfishing had wiped out nearly any sign of life. Cousteau was shocked by what he saw. Within just a few decades, the Mediterranean had lost so much. The sea of his youth had been destroyed. This stunning realization turned him into a radical conservationist. From that moment on, he fought against environmental degradation. Following Cousteau's journey, we came upon one of his earlier film locations. At least the gorgonians have replenished brightly colored soft corals. Stephan, the biologist, is impressed by the beauty of this lushly covered rock face. But one thing hasn't changed. The bigger sized fish aren't back. No sign of the lively colonies that Cousteau found here in 1943. But the Mediterranean that he knew from his initial diving experiments 70 years ago is still here. But places like this are relatively small. We embark from tiny Porco, one of the islands in a group known as Ile d'Hier off the coast of the French Riviera. It is France's first national park, which Cousteau helped to create. Our destination is a tiny rock islet. Only a few bushes grow above the waterline. Underwater, it's teeming with life. Shady rock faces are densely covered with yellow stony coral. Multicolored gorgonians also flourish in this protected area. Common fish like this sea bream can be found all across the Mediterranean. But here in the national park, fishing isn't permitted, so it can reach its full size. Like this young white sea bream that will one day grow to half a meter. These common two-banded sea breams are harboring some stowaways. In other places, brown meagers are likely to hide near caves and crevices. Here in the protected national park, they're swimming about freely. Maybe that's because they feel safe amidst the school of sea breams. But the big attraction here is of a different caliber. Giant groupers up to one and a half meters long. The Mediterranean should be full of them, but in practical terms, they're now only found in protected marine areas or at unachievable depths. At this outcropping of rock in the Portreux National Park, they're nearly everywhere. It's no surprise that the park is one of the most popular diving spots in France. Some days, up to 200 divers come here to get a feel for the past. Maybe the abundance of fish here compared to the gaping emptiness in other parts makes them realize that the sea needs urgent protection, just like Jacques Cousteau realized. Peering into an intact Mediterranean serves as a reminder of what turned Cousteau into a strong advocate of conservation. Like in so many other areas, he accomplished huge victories in the defense of nature, astounding success stories even by today's standards. One of those stories takes us to the United States. In 1973, Cousteau was shooting a film in Florida. An article in a magazine had drawn his attention to a very special type of animal. Huge, quiet creatures around four meters in length that lived in the sea and in rivers throughout Florida. Still, in the early 70s, people knew extremely little about them or that they even existed. Manatees, also known as sea cows, are some of the most gentle animals on the planet. When they're not eating vegetation, they're usually sleeping. Most of their lives are spent doing one of these two things. Manatees have such a peaceful demeanor. Hardly anyone can resist their charm. It wasn't until Cousteau released a film called The Forgotten Mermaids that people began to fathom the natural treasure living right below the surface. Soon after, conservation and research projects started up. The fact that we now know a great deal about these endangered animals and how to best protect them is also a part of Cousteau's legacy. Every winter, the water temperature in the Gulf of Mexico drops below 23 degrees Celsius. That means inland rivers are warmer than the coastal waters. They offer refuge to the aquatic animals who are especially susceptible to the cold. The manatees migrate inland to warmer waters. This mother animal is in a particular hurry to guide her offspring through the cloudy coastal water. A sudden cold snap took them off guard and it's still a long way to their natural source of warmth. Day and night in the winter, endless processions of chilly manatees make their way through Florida's waterways. Against the current and toward the warmth, they seek out their winter havens. Manatees have been coming to some of these places for thousands of years. The water bubbling from the natural springs is 23 degrees all year round. In the spring, summer, and fall, it's relatively quiet here until the winter guests move in. Thanks to their sensitive skin and whiskers, the mother and her baby have found one of the natural springs in Florida's Crystal River. Exposure to cold is deadly for manatees. It eats through their bodies like frost burn. More than a hundred manatees have come here for their winter getaway. The journey behind them was long and tough, always swimming against the current. Exhausted, they settle down in the life-saving warmth. Baby manatees can suckle for up to 20 minutes before needing to come up for air. Mothers nurse their calves for two years. For his documentary about manatees, The Forgotten Mermaids, Cousteau filmed right here at Three Sisters Springs. In the early 70s, much of the natural environment around Crystal River was still unspoiled wilderness. People had very little knowledge about these pleasant, lumbering aquatic mammals, not even the people who lived nearby. Cousteau charted the manatees' natural habitat by helicopter. Even then, he encountered a serious threat to the animals. Their habitat was shrinking. Channeled rivers, urbanization, and man-made pollution had already been taking their toll on the manatee population. Like Captain Cousteau, we also take a look from above. Our pilot, Buddy Powell, helped Cousteau's crew during filming. He was 16 at the time. He's still passionate about sea cows and is a strong advocate for their protection. 40 years ago, this was wilderness. Now, it's sought-after residential area. Despite all that, there are more manatees here today than ever before. Powell and his colleagues recently counted 5,000 of them in Florida. Three Sisters Springs harbored at least 300 manatees in February. Here, they can rest undisturbed. Special areas have been reserved just for them. Swimmers and snorkelers have to stay out. Swimming with manatees is regulated outside the special zone as well, and for good reason. On the weekends, the springs turn into a tourist magnet. Thousands of manatee fans flock to Crystal River every year. Not all of them behave well, walking, grabbing, and crowding around the animals. The cute baby manatees are a particular draw. But it doesn't have to be that way. Those who simply wait, instead of chasing the animals, will be rewarded. Some sea cows really like the contact. Then, it can come to incredible encounters, unforgettable to man, maybe even to manatees. But even a magical place like this has its downsides. The spring is a source of warmth, but the food is scarce. Manatees need to eat a tenth of their body weight in vegetation every day. Many of them are underweight, especially the mothers who are nursing their calves. Some of them are forced to leave the warm springs in search of food in the cold river. It's a cruel choice between starving or freezing. As the winter wears on, mealtimes become even more meager, too little to thrive, just enough to barely survive. There's another threat in the river that Cousteau already detected 40 years ago. Heavy boat traffic claims the lives of many manatees every year. Engine propellers are in especially acute danger, slicing into the animals who are deaf to the warning sounds of oncoming motors. Most surviving manatees bear the scars of violent impact with propellers. Boats pose the greatest threat to the peaceful manatees. While shooting footage for this film, we notice a manatee baby with fresh scars. The injuries must have happened just a few days ago. There was no way of knowing we'd be the witness of a sad scene of farewell. A few days later, Mike Dunn, a volunteer manatee rescuer, discovers that the baby evidently lost its mother. It's now on its own and trying to suckle milk from other mothers. Experts from the Fish and Wildlife Service who call the baby animal Hamilton decide that he needs to be taken to a clinic before he dies of starvation. So from the tag manatee to the right of the tag manatee. Right. Okay. Some manatees strongly resist being captured, but Hamilton is too weak to put up a struggle. The rescuers see that Hamilton's injuries require immediate treatment, and they don't even know yet whether the boat accident caused any internal damage. Time is of the essence. Hamilton is wrapped up in a thermal blanket and taken away in a manatee ambulance. It'll take two years to nurse him back to health. When he's fully recovered, he'll be brought back to the wild and set free right here at Three Sisters Springs. Of course, Jacques Cousteau was the first person to release a manatee that had been nurtured back to health. He documented it in his film, The Forgotten Mermaids. Cousteau and his team of helpers brought a sea cow named Sam from a zoo to Three Sisters Springs. Sam was transported in a wooden crate before being set free. No one has seen Sam ever since. Maybe the former film star still lives somewhere in the region. What remains of the enclosure's wooden posts can still be seen in the bed of sand at the bottom of Three Sisters Springs. The manatees here think the relics make an ideal backscratcher. Now, as then, this spot is used to release manatees back into nature. Following Cousteau's film, state authorities bought large amounts of land and turned it into a manatee sanctuary. The documentary inspired many people to become active in the study and protection of Florida manatees. Some of the animals now get a satellite transmitter so they don't disappear without a trace like Sam. Knowing more about manatees' whereabouts helps people to better protect them. If Cousteau hadn't shown people in Florida these beautiful creatures and the problems they encounter from human interference, they might have had no chance at survival. Thanks to him and his documentary, the manatee population now numbers around 5,000. Many people have unattainable dreams, discovering places no one has ever seen, inventing something that changes the world, winning an Oscar. Jacques-Yves Cousteau achieved all that, but not everything. When he died at the age of 87, his family enterprise fell apart with no one to follow in his footsteps. Yet what remains is much more than the memory of an extraordinary man and his unparalleled career. With every diver who descends into the silent world, with every researcher who charts the undersea world, it lives on, the legacy of Jacques-Yves Cousteau.