Fossa Lurks At Drinking Hole For Prey | Dawn to Dusk 107

The sun comes up, the light turns on, and the natural world erupts into a new day. Animals wake in burrows, colonies, and branches to sing the sun's praises and launch into their daily chores. Off Africa, on the island of Madagascar, lemurs and chameleons, large and minute, face extreme commutes, head off neighborhood disputes, and survive frightening pursuits. In the hours from dawn to dusk. In the early hours of a November morning, a lemur stares. She's waking up, but not from a good night's sleep. In fact, she's nocturnal. This tiny primate is rousing from six months of hibernation. Not that winter in tropical Madagascar is particularly cold, but almost no rain falls here in the Kirindi forest for half the year. So this fat-tailed dwarf lemur sleeps off the dry season, when the nectar and fruit she eats are in short supply. She's the world's only hibernating primate. Now revived, she gets right to stuffing her tiny face. Her diet goal, a plump rump in just six months. Her tail is where she stores the fat she'll need to make it through the next winter. So eat up, little lemur. Sunrise reveals lemurs everywhere. They only live on Madagascar, and they make the most of every conceivable niche. Their monkey cousins never manage to reach the island, so lemurs have the run of the place. 400 kilometers of open sea separate their home from mainland Africa. A mountain range splits it in two. To the east lie lush rainforests. To the west, an arid rain shadow. Lemurs live on both sides of the divide. Some even live on top of it. But the exposed mountains of the Anya Reserve are cold at dawn. The ring-tailed lemur family that lives up here sunbathe before they do anything else. Even with their thick mountain-adapted fur, they need the sun's warmth to get going. Just like their cold-blooded neighbors. Ah, that's better. Next on the to-do list, breakfast. Here's where it gets a bit tricky. There are only a few scrappy leaves to eat up here. And ring-tails rather enjoy insects and fruit. But to get a square meal around here, they need to relocate to the bottom of the mountain. It's one heck of a daily commute, but no one moves without the bosses say so. In ring-tail society, all females outrank the males. But there is one ring-tail to rule them all. She's the alpha. The undisputed leader of this family. And she would like a morning drink before they go. Pools of rainwater collect on the impervious granite dome. She has no qualms about making her hungry family wait. In these mountains, what makes a good breakfast is a matter of perspective. While these baby lemurs are eager to try some fruit, a nearby harrier hawk chick is hoping to sample some baby lemur. The alpha leads her troop down the hill. Mother hawk launches her assault. They can't both be lucky. But it's hard to pick one target as the troop scatters in alarm. And the lemur mothers use the confusion to bring their vulnerable infants to the safety of the trees. With the males bringing up the rear, mother hawk goes home with empty talons. Just a few more rock steps to negotiate, and the lemurs will be sitting pretty in a forest of fruit. Most of this family are expert rock climbers. But it is a learned skill. Slow learners don't last long around here. It's barely 9am, but these mountain lemurs have had a full day already. As the alpha leads them to a fig in full fruit. There's enough food for everyone. And she magnanimously allows them all to forage as they please. A proper breakfast at last. In the eastern rainforests, mornings are a rather more relaxed affair for another group of lemurs. At 9am, this family is only just thinking of making a move. Their injuries. The biggest and most human-like lemur. With their expressive faces and almost no tail. But they're not really morning people. Living under the rainforest canopy, it takes a while before the sun's warming rays reach them. Also, they eat leaves. Which in the forest aren't really all that far away. Their territory is small. Mum will lead them on a journey of no more than half a kilometre today. She's in charge of this little nuclear family. Herself. And dad. They're together till death do them part. They have two adolescent sons. And a baby girl. Just four months old. Before they do anything else today, there's an important job to get out of the way. They must check in with the neighbours. Dad starts off the morning's round of singing with a throat-clearing roar. Then launches into the melody. Indries are great singers. And soon, the whole family joins in. Except the baby. But she's watching and learning. The song is unique to this family. Soon enough, the neighbours respond. Indries are experts at conflict avoidance. As long as each family knows where their neighbours are, they can steer clear of each other. Now, about those leaves. Well, what do you know? There's some right here. Perhaps this is the worst morning commute in Madagascar. The Ankarana Plateau at the northern tip is an ancient reef thrust up out of the ocean. Millennia of rain have carved its limestone into a sea of serrated ridges called Singi. No one in their right mind crosses the Singi. But then again... What predator is going to follow you across a cutlery drawer full of upturned knives? That's what this crowned lemur is thinking. Sure, there are a few drawbacks. Notably, that getting food and water means crossing those serrated ridges herself. On the plus side, there are no other lemurs here. Crowned lemurs are the only ones that pull this off. She has thick leathery pads on her hands and feet to cope with the sharp rocks. Even so, care and skill are of the essence. It's even harder with a baby dangling from your belly. Older kids ride on top. Learning the tricks of the trade by watching the adults. Plenty of time. There's still a long way to go. Parsons' chameleon, on the other hand, has no commute to speak of. He pretty much works from home. The chameleon heavyweight champion has spent the morning warming up his 700-gram frame in the rainforests of Mantadea. Now he's ready for action, which in his case is fairly minimal. He rarely leaves this tree. Why bother? His main prey, insects, come to him. The trick is to get close enough on narrow branches. He needs to get within a couple of body lengths. His fused toes form clawed mittens, which give him a vice-like grip. The other important trick is not to be seen himself. He's not only a predator, but also potential prey for snakes or large birds. He keeps one eye out for lunch and one out for danger. They work completely independently. One eye spots a meal. That's enough for him to calculate its distance. He lines up his head for the strike. Slowly, don't want to spook lunch. The second eye locks on and he confirms his range finding. His calculations are spot on. He shoots his long tongue out the right distance every time. He's living the good life. He's barely moved a meter all day and has no plans to move much further. By mid-morning, the onion ringtails have moved on to a favorite source of fresh fruit at the base of their mountain hideout. China berries are an introduced species. The fruit can be lethal to humans. But these highly adaptable lemurs have taken to it with gusto. And apparently, no ill effects. Ringtails are more comfortable on the ground than any other lemur. Which is where they find a windfall of sugary overripe fruit. A big meal on a hot day equals nap time. Closing in on midday, it's too hot to do anything else. For the grown-ups. The kids, however, are like kids the world over. They find it hard to sit still for long. No matter how much their tired mothers might like them to. Fortunately, there are lots of competent grown-ups to help out. If mom starts to lose the plot a little, the whole troop contributes something to the parenting. At last, mom can take a little cat nap. The older kids won't breed for another couple of years. This is their time for figuring out the social niceties through play. It'll be a steep learning curve for the boys especially. Once they leave their mother's sides, they'll be at the bottom of the pecking order. These carefree times are precious, but short-lived. To the east of the mountains, in the coastal band of rainforest, the family of indries are at their busiest around midday. Now they've eaten the best leaves, it's time to move on. But the ground is lava. And they don't want to touch it. No need to. Indries can really move when they want to. They can leap 10 meter gaps in the canopy in a single bound. Today, the female wants to check out the trees at the other end of their territory, which they can cross in just a few minutes. Soon, they're munching fresh young leaves in the canopy. Well, some of them are. Peaceful as this family is, like most lemur groups, it's still a matriarchy. The female decides who feeds where. She allows her still growing adolescent sons into the canopy. But dad must stay lower down where the leaves are not as juicy and nutritious. It's quite practical really. He's not fast growing, not providing milk for an infant, and he's not the one who has to carry the baby everywhere they go. Though at the moment, the little girl is keen to climb off mum's back and try standing on her own two feet. As well as holding on with her own two hands. She's also experimenting with solid foods. Not bad, but she'll keep nursing for another half year while she memorizes nearly 80 kinds of edible plant. She'll also have to learn that leaves take a lot of digesting and that a midday nap is good for that. High noon reveals another reason to avoid the Ankarana Plateau. The sun beats down on the parched limestone. The crowned lemurs have taken cover in what little shade there is. The rocks are heating up like a stovetop. They need to get out of here and find a source of water. A dash across one last knife edge of limestone finally leads them to a deep canyon with forest and water. Refuge from the relentless sun at last. Water and tectonic forces combine to cut these deep chasms into the limestone. And hidden under the rock, massive cave systems. Sculpted by subterranean rivers. Dawn and dusk lose their meaning underground. But roosting bats know what time it is. It's time to stay safe and cool indoors. Generations have worn hollows in the ceiling and dumped piles of guano on the floor attracting small critters that love to eat it. And those who love to eat them. The floor writhes with scorpions. And worse. This is one of the only places in the world where crocodiles live in caves. As yet we know very little about their lives. It's a steady 25 degrees inside. The reptiles seem to prefer that to the brutal heat beyond the cave. But unless every drop of water outside dries up the crowned lemurs aren't fool enough to take up spelunking. No matter how hot it gets. Midday is especially hard in the dry forests of the island's desiccated west coast. This early in the season the rains here are unreliable. Daily life revolves around strategic waterholes. Where everyone comes to slake their thirst or look for a snack. Grey-headed lovebirds sip from the water's edge. Counting on those at the back of the queue to keep an eye out for danger. There's always a hawk looking for an easy meal. A crested dragonfly. Grabbing a drink on the wing. The local brown lemurs are as wary as they are thirsty. Waterholes are the classic hunting spot for apex predators. Madagascar's top cat isn't a cat. Nor is he an overgrown mongoose. Though they share a common ancestor. But that was 20 million years ago. He's a fusa unique to this island and free from any competitors. More than half his diet is lemur. But he won't catch them while they're on high alert. He's just here for a drink like everybody else. It's far too hot for hunting now anyway. Perhaps a late lemur lunch today. Further south the rain shadow is at its most severe. This landscape goes by the uninviting name of spiny forest. The octopus trees have made new leaves which they guard with vicious spines. This is what passes for a time of plenty around here. It's enough to make some feel frisky. The spider tortoise has been searching for a mate. But by midday he's racing his own body clock. The sand is too hot. Even for cold-blooded reptiles. He hightails it to a meager patch of shade to avoid fatal overheating. A pair of sacralava weaver birds at least have a little breeze up in the trees. This male has donned his breeding plumage and is busily fixing up a nest. The rains here are so short-lived and unpredictable there's no time to waste despite the midday heat. His partner provides some creature comforts to line their home. Most of the colony's nests are still empty however. This early nesting pair are gambling that the season will deliver rain soon and that insects will be plentiful when their eggs hatch. But it's not looking much like rain out here today. Things are different on the other side of the mountain. A revitalizing afternoon shower is on its way. Warm wet air flowing in from over the sea drops its water on the eastern side. It only lasts a little while but today's rainfall is just the latest in a dependable pattern that will continue for months to come. The lush dense rainforests are testament to that. These salubrious conditions are why 60% of Madagascar's wildlife lives here. Including the smallest. In the rainforest nothing goes to waste. The forest floor is the domain of nature's recyclers. But there are tiny hunters here too. Fully functional mini chameleons. Life can be a bit of a struggle. When you're in danger of being run over by a snail. That was almost a close call. It's off. Stalking the uneven terrain using the prehensile tip of its tail as a walking stick. Food is plentiful down here. The brown leaf chameleon's cunning disguise keeps it safe from its own predators. As long as it stays in the leaf litter. Unlike most chameleons it can't turn green. Up in the branches above. The big boys have a much fuller color palette at their disposal. This male panther chameleon makes no attempt at blending into the background. Chameleon colors are often about communicating a state of mind. And this one's seeing red. Another male has invaded his tree. There's a reason he shouts in colors. Chameleons are practically deaf. But it would be hard for the interloper to miss this signal. He reads it loud and clear. Going dark is chameleon speak for I surrender. For good measure he cowers submissively. Normally this is where these fights end. But the power seems to have gone to the big male's head. Striking the colors is not enough for him. He wants to see the loser run. Run being a relative term. As the midday heat starts to taper off many lemurs resume their foraging. The warm wet forest is an ideal environment for giant bamboo. And because this is Madagascar there's a lemur here exploiting it. Bamboo lemurs spend most of the day eating. Bamboo is not very nutritious and it's pretty much the only thing they eat. This afternoon they're snacking on the fresh growth that comes with the start of the rainy season. Those fresh shoots are the very bits the bamboo most wants to protect from foragers. Which it does by loading them with enough cyanide to kill a lemur 12 times over. And yet the bamboo lemurs stubbornly refuse to die. They'll just pee the cyanide out later. How they've outwitted the poison is a bona fide scientific mystery. But the lemurs are winning their evolutionary arms race with the bamboo. Back on the drier western side the Fusa feels much revived after his three-hour siesta. He has no real circadian rhythm. He's simply active when he feels like it day or night. But the brown lemurs he was contemplating for lunch are long gone. No problem. In Madagascar lemurs are like buses. Another one will be along soon. A Sifaka. The Fusa is the only predator big enough to bring one down. Not that they're easy prey. The Sifaka is agile and fast in the trees. But so is he. Fusas are expert arboreal hunters. Like the Sifaka he sports a tail nearly as long as his body for balance. But few creatures jump as well as a Sifaka. With a 10 meter leap into a neighboring tree the Sifaka gives him the slip. Just have to wait for the next one. Might as well rest up. The Angia rindheld lemurs have one last item to tick off before they head home for the evening. The alpha leads them to a muddy rock strewn field with little obvious appeal. This is what she's after. Rocky mineral licks to supplement their fruity diet. With a healthy side of mud. It may be an aid to digestion. Or perhaps it helps to neutralize the toxins in their diet. It's certainly a popular condiment. When everyone has had their fill the alpha rounds up her troops. It's time to start their long commute back up the mountain. She wants to be home safe before dusk. But the best laid plans crumble in the face of dessert. Halfway up the mountain one of her sisters has discovered a mistletoe cactus in full fruit. Cacti naturally belong in the Americas with this rare exception. This is no introduced weed but a genuine homegrown delicacy that generations of mountain lemurs have enjoyed. The females waste no time in showing the young ones the technique. It's more abseiling than rock climbing. This youngster is getting the hang of it already. That hit the spot. But now it really is time to head home. As the sun starts to sink lower in the sky. The temperature on the mountain quickly starts to drop. The family members find sheltered crags in which to hunker down for the coming night. Down below in the east coast rainforests one animal has been doing nothing but hunkering down. They're elusive recluses. Animals so cryptic you could look right at one and never know it. They're leaf-tailed geckos and for now they're keeping their heads down. That's what they've been doing all day. At 30 centimeters they're not small lizards yet they're almost invisible. They've matched their colors to the trees they rest on. Ragged frilly skin further breaks up their outline while they wait for dusk to go hunting. But this phantrophile a snake is on the prowl right now and he's not just a visual hunter. This motionless gecko is a sitting duck as the snake homes in on its scent. The gecko though has options. It's alert for danger. It could wave its tail as a distraction. It could suddenly rear up aggressively as the snake gets closer. But with a venomous predator like this the best option might just be a hasty retreat. As the sun finally sets it's the gecko's turn to hunt. Pupils fully dilated its massive eyes see all in the darkened jungle. As long as they're kept clean. A caterpillar. Now who's the sitting duck? There's an even weirder presence haunting the rainforest at dusk. He's been called a tarsier and a squirrel and an evil spirit. None of these is accurate. DNA finally convinced scientists that he is yet another lemur. He's an aye-aye the closest relative of the ancestral lemur that washed up on the island millions of years ago. With those massive ears there's something of the bat about him too. He uses them to detect hidden prey. He does it by drumming. Tap tap tapping a branch. And listening to the sound it makes. Sounds hollow. That means there's something in there. Once he has a hole big enough he reaches in with his long bony middle finger. And extracts his prize. A beetle grub. He'll travel four kilometers through the forest tonight. Drumming up meals until first light. When he'll hand the island back over to his day shift cousins. Despite the hawks and the fuses. Madagascar's motley crew of leading lemurs. And their chameleon co-stars will be ready to make the most of every opportunity. Every hour of the day between dawn and dusk. Hey love nature fans! Be sure to like and subscribe to catch all our wild animal stories. Get closer to nature right here on YouTube.