Transcription
NARRATOR: Hawaii's explosive core and mega-sized waves assault these islands! It's a wild and ever-changing paradise. Here, earth is still a work in progress. Hot lava spews from its underbelly, reshaping the shoreline. But even in this fiery neighborhood, some specialized creatures have found a foothold. This is Wild Hawaii: Islands of Fire.
A sea turtle's life is a lonely one. Her home is the open ocean, through her long migration of hundreds of miles. Her one hope: That she'll make it to Hawaii. From across the wide Pacific, countless species had to somehow find their way here.
There are 132 Hawaiian Islands, stretching 1500 miles across the Pacific. The farther west, the older the islands are. They're eroding. The sea is steadily reclaiming Hawaii. To imagine what they were like when they were younger, just look to the islands we know. They began some 30 million years ago. Just a blink in the geological eye.
Hawaii is still exploded from the sea. And there's a monster at her molten core. Kilauea. Its name means "spewing." This is one of the most active volcanoes on Earth. It hasn't stopped erupting for the last 30 years. Its flows can reach speeds of almost 35 miles per hour and temperatures of 2100 degrees Fahrenheit. But even lava eventually loses steam. Kilauea has created 500 acres in the last 30 years, enough land for almost 400 football fields. Enough lava to pave a 20-mile highway, with so many layers it would reach the stratosphere.
Hawaii laid her black sand shoreline in anger. Now it's a welcome mat. Sea turtles usually hurry back to the water. But not in Hawaii. Conditions here are perfect for basking. And while they're at it, for getting friendly. Hawaii's creatures have evolved to be different from their cousins world over. Where else would a sea turtle come out of her shell?
A Hawksbill comes ashore every two to five years. Not to socialize, but to lay her eggs. The beach is a short hike after so many miles at sea. Flippers designed to cruise the surf don't make good shovels. She'll dig up to six nests, for hours. Darkness is her cue to lay her clutch. Infrared cameras capture this rare event. There are less than 50 Hawksbills who come to nest here. She buries up to 200 eggs, a cluster in each of her nests. Her hatchlings will emerge in a couple of months, though she won't stick around. She'll only return when it's time to nest again. Her mother laid her eggs here, and so did generations before.
Imagine how life found its way to Hawaii. This patch of the Pacific first erupted five million years ago, and laid down its lava in formation. A remote wasteland is no paradise. But then stowaways came on the winds, spores, ripped from plants half a world away. Hawaii offered a crack, a fertile volcanic soil inside, to take root. To a fern like the A'e, which even thrives in hardened lava. Or the Ohia Lehua, a tree that's fireproof. When a volcano begins to spew sulphuric gas, it pulls off a remarkable strategy. The Ohia can close its pores. Its leaves can actually hold their breath. 95% of the flora on these islands does not exist anywhere else in the world. Hawaii holds out a stark choice to life: Adapt or die.
She's home to evolutionary oddities. In fact, even on the islands are smaller islands of life. They're called kipukas, isolated forests that defy the lava flows. There are over 300, from the size of your lawn to 150 acres. Kipukas are home to incredible creatures. One spider exists on only four islands. On each, its coloration is different. In fact, on one, there's a different pattern for each sex. Scientists know it as T. Grallator, but then it can't live down its nickname, the Happy-Faced Spider. What it might be smiling at is how well its markings camouflage it. Good thing, it has no poison to protect it, unlike its cousin, the Black Widow. It's also unique in how it guards its young. It even feeds them after they've hatched, an extraordinary maternal trait shared by only 1% of spider species. It lives at the brink of annihilation. Its home, the kipuka, is right in the line of fire.
NARRATOR: In 2018, a crater called Halemaumau roared back to life. It's one of the largest vents on Kilauea, over half a mile wide. The lava lake within the crater overflowed, but this was just the beginning. Following pressure changes in the magma chamber beneath Kilauea, magma started to flow towards other parts of the Big Island. This caused the walls of the summit crater to collapse. The moving magma erupted from fissures in the ground, spreading billions of gallons of lava across the landscape. Once the 2,100-degree lava hit a dead end, the Pacific Ocean, it collided with seawater and created plumes of "laze," a toxic mix of hydrochloric acid, steam, and tiny glass shards. Despite the terrors unleashed by Kilauea, there were no human fatalities.
These molten highways are just part of Hawaii's story. Soaring high above the fire is her pantheon of ice. Over eons, the lava doesn't just spread, it grows. Layer upon layer, to incredible heights. Mauna Kea actually measures taller than Mount Everest, rising over 30,000 feet from the sea floor. Everest took 40 million years to top out. Mauna Kea did it in less than a million. Its summit is almost three miles above sea level. The high air is clean and crisp. There's no light pollution. What better place to stargaze? When the Mauna Kea Observatories set their sights skyward, the heavens explode.
Those heavens have another surprise in store. Somebody forgot to tell Mauna Kea it's in the tropics. Elevation brings precipitation, as in: snow. At accumulations at times of many feet deep. It's an oddity. But Mauna Kea's snow is a thin disguise. Deep inside, Hawaii is simmering. This is a land forged in flame. But then fire's not the only force that's shaping her. Her lava spills off the caldera and spreads across the land, until it faces off with the one phenomenon that's just as powerful. Magma meets its match, in water. (waves crashing, sizzling). Hawaii's shores are a battleground between fire and sea. Where they collide, neither relents. Both explode.
NARRATOR: Hawaii begins as a volcanic shoreline, a rough and tumble place. Blowholes from the lava tubes just add to the chaos. Anything can get swept away with a splash. But incredibly, creatures have found a foothold. They have to hang on for dear life. That even goes for the crabs around here. A tidal pool makes a turbulent home. It can bloom with a banquet of algae or disappear at the whims of the waves.
The zebra blenny is a living wonder, found only in Hawaii. When the pickings get slim, it picks up and leaves. In our terms, it would be a 20-foot leap, powered with a snap of its tail fin. The blenny is a throwback to the age when life first left the water, over 400 million years ago. Creatures here can take a pounding. Proof of that is what happens past Hawaii's rocky shores, past her sandy shoals, in her deep-water channels. This is where the ocean makes room for the largest of her sea creatures. The humpback whale.
These humpbacks spent their summer months feeding in the waters of Alaska. They've traveled 3000 miles to get here, almost 100 miles a day, without food. 10,000 humpbacks converge for their Hawaiian luau. Their only beacon, a song. Why humpback males sing is a mystery. Maybe to warn other males to stand down. To attract a mate. Or maybe to draw ladies to a group of eligible bachelors. Whatever the message, it isn't lost on the female. She's come here to Hawaii, to mate, to give birth and raise her calves. A mother delivers her newborn to its first breath. It's a whale of a baby. 15 feet long and weighs a ton. But then mom is 40 by 40, feet to tons, that is. Her calf learns by playing. And it plays through imitation. Its first leap is a sign, it will be on its own within a year. Humpback mom and calf aren't alone anymore, an escort now shadows them. A male with amorous intentions. For rights to sire offspring, humpback males go to war.
NARRATOR: Most females with calves are now being followed by a male. He's waiting for his chance to mate. But so are other males straggling alongside, up to 20 per female. Aggression begins to escalate. A straggler challenges the escort. It starts with crowding the escort's space. He blows a screen of bubbles for cover. They slap tails and snap fins. Warning shots over each other's bows. Then the head lunge. Humpbacks inflate their throats with water, making them appear larger and more intimidating. The bluster and bravado are not enough. Time for a knockout punch: a 40-ton ramming that can kill.
♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ Battered and bruised for the sake of his bloodline, the escort has fended off his challenger. From the largest to the smallest, these waters are home to a dazzling variety of creatures. It's a lucky snorkeler who gets to glimpse Moorish Idols. Those stripes make it hard to tell where the real fish begins and where she ends, a handy trick called "disruptive coloration." Other fish find safety in numbers, or just by laying low.
The Gregory Fish has its own private hideaway, a plot of, say, ten square feet. This is its farm. The Gregory is a fussy eater and favors just one type of algae. So it cultivates its patch of green for grazing. When it's not picking and weeding, it's busy protecting its turf. Its pastures are a big draw for other fish. There is one way to get past the Gregory's defenses. Join forces, and overwhelm it. The fish that team up get to raid the farm. It's the rule of the reef: Gang up on the Gregory. The Gregory actually gets fish to change their behavior and school together.
There is at least one holdout, the Hawaiian Octopus is a loner. It's on the prowl for crabs, a hunt that'll take every trick up its many sleeves. For one thing, because it's got competition. The Goatfish has earned its name. It's got an appetite like a goat, and the whiskers too. Those barbells on its chin are sensory receptors, like tongues that can find their way to prey by taste. But they're no match for its rival's arsenal. The octopus may be the most intelligent of all invertebrates. Its nearly 2,000 suckers are tuned to smell and taste everything they touch. Then, there's its secret weapon. An octopus can change color in a flash. It can become invisible. Prey doesn't stand a chance.
Unless you're a Peacock Mantis Shrimp. It could be the ultimate animal. Or maybe the ultimate neat freak. It has a lot of tidying up to do. It's cleaning up after its meals. Those shells are there because it's shattered them. It can pack a punch, at the same velocity as a 22-caliber rifle. Careful who you call "shrimp." Even more powerful are its eyes. It has the single most complex visual system in all the animal kingdom. We've got three different types of cone cells, to see color. The Mantis shrimp has around a dozen. It can see an array of colors we can't even imagine. The reason? Could be to better spot a mate. Or to communicate. The creatures of the coral reefs can get freaky. But venture beyond and Hawaii shows its true colors. The coral reef surrenders to the open ocean, where life gets really strange.
NARRATOR: This is no place for a tropical reef. Hawaii is the farthest north coral gets. Here, animals from across the wide ocean find an oasis. The Green Sea Turtle arrives with an appetite for algae. A juvenile can even put stinging jellyfish on her menu, thanks to her thick skin. But it's not just food that draws her here. The reef is a spa. That's because her long journey takes a toll. Algae and barnacles have hitched a ride on her shell and skin. Her stowaways are a drag, literally. The solution: she'll set up a cleaning station. She's greeted by a welcoming party, of wrasse, tangs, and other hungry algae lovers. Dinner is served. The host is the table too. Each fish may specialize in a different part of her body. She could roam the sea all alone for 1600 miles before her brief stop home, to Hawaii.
Others have no choice, but wait for the world to find them. Beyond the reef, Hawaii changes, into a desert underwater. But this sand isn't barren. It's blooming. They're called garden eels, named for how they seem to sprout. They're different from most eels; they stay put. The hardened tip of their tail roots them as they dance with the currents, snatching plankton as it drifts past. They can live in colonies of thousands. Though they're still a rare sight. Because they're so shy. That's their best defense against predators. The garden eel may be the one animal that succeeds by hiding its head in the sand. And if it's skittish during daylight, it disappears come nightfall. Dangers here loom large. Especially when they're unseen. Time for the night shift.
NARRATOR: Every night, the moon beckons them to emerge. Zooplankton's glow is caused by a chemical reaction they generate. Most use their bioluminescence to distract predators or catch prey. And they, in turn, draw bigger appetites out of the gloom. Meet the Devil Fish. Its wingspan can stretch to 30 feet. And it can weigh a ton and a half. The "Manta Ray" is a monster version of the stingray. In size only. Its dreaded cousin is a bottom feeder, with a mouth on its underbelly, and a poisonous barb to protect it. The Manta is a filter feeder, whose mouth moved front and center, and whose barb is now a harmless vestige. The only swimmers who should be scared of these waters are zooplankton. Lights from the nearby town first drew the plankton here. Now it's manta-mania.
Far above the manta's world and thousands of miles away, a storm is brewing. It begins in the Aleutian Islands of Alaska. Violent winds set off a surge in the ocean. Swells power across the sea like a runaway train. They're upwards of 60 feet high. They're bearing down on Hawaii. One has got a bite. In fact, it's called "Jaws." It rolls in around 12 times a year, a wave of staggering size and fury. "Jaws" is three to six-stories high, with speeds up to 30 miles per hour. It's powered by Hawaii's signature engine: volcanoes. Along the sea floor, the ancient lava flows left a massive barrier. That's what sends the water soaring. Whenever Hawaii unleashes her anger, most would take cover. When Jaws happens? Surf's up.
Water and fire are the lifeblood of Hawaii. They run through the veins of everything born of her soil, and sands. The Hawksbill sea turtles are finally emerging after 60 long days of nesting. They've got a tough life ahead, traversing the Pacific. For now, getting across this beach is a marathon. It could be that only one out of 1000 will make it to adulthood. The females that do will be back, to stake their future on this, their island home. Hawaii will be waiting, and as wild as ever.