Exploring the Ancient Forests and Peaks of the Tatra Mountains | Full Documentary

Enchanted, inaccessible and uninhabited. Right in the centre of Europe lies a truly magical mountain range. Up in the Tatra Mountains, one of the oldest forests on the continent is quietly growing. Rivers surge along, untamed. The valleys offer sanctuary for many rare animals. First and foremost, this is bear country. They are simply everywhere. Why do so many bears live up here in the Tatras and so close together? The Carpathian Mountains sprawl out over the middle of Europe. Their highest part lies between Poland and Slovakia, the Tatra Mountains. It's March. The first bears are slowly emerging from hibernation in the Ticha and Koprová Valley of the Tatra National Park. At this time of year, only the males, and females with no offspring, have already roamed down from the mountains into the forest to look for food. The others are still asleep. Winter here lasts six long months. This mountainous region is among the coldest places in Slovakia, but the first signs of spring are already underway. Soon the streams will be filled with meltwater. Birds are beginning to stake their territory and search for partners. In the mountain dawn, the western capercaillie is causing a bit of a scene. He wants to impress all the ladies in the neighbourhood and mate with as many of them as he can. His success depends on suitable lookouts. Luckily there are still plenty of old trees in the Ticha and Koprová valleys. A relative is courting in the undergrowth below. In contrast to the capercaillie, this hazel grouse is only looking for one partner. Later on, both the male and the female will look after their young. By early May, most of the snow above the treeline has melted. This female bear is venturing out into the daylight for the first time after six months in a gloomy den. And look, there's someone with her. The little one arrived back in January, only one pound heavy. Since then, he's had to stay in the den. Outside, with snow levels up to a metre high, he could hardly have survived. Everything is new to him. Bear females mostly give birth to twins, who can then play together. So with an only child, mum has to double as a climbing frame. The bear cub is still rather insecure out and about. Its mother always has an eye on the little bear, and is immediately ready to help when the cub gets stuck. This is also the first outing for the adult pair since November. She's not eaten anything for half a year but even now she doesn't appear to be very hungry. Mother and child don't feel at all disturbed. They're being filmed from around 600 meters away on the other side of the wide valley. Rare footage indeed from central Europe. An only child also has some advantages. The cub doesn't have to share the mother's milk with siblings and can therefore grow faster. These two are not the only ones around. All over the slopes, bear mothers are now starting to appear with their offspring. This one has twins. Another is even having to deal with triplets. The females with bigger, more developed cubs already left their wintering dens several weeks ago. This mother gave birth two years ago. Side by side, they search for leftover cranberries from the autumn. This will be their last spring together. Next time, the little cub will leave her mother, who will then have new offspring to care for. Then they will have to fend for themselves. Astonishing! Within a single year, as many as 12 bear mothers with offspring were observed in the Ticha and Koprava valleys. Altogether, 40 to 50 brown bears are living in this area, which is about the size of Bristol, a population density like nowhere else in Central Europe, and which is completely absent in the Alps. So what does this wilderness have which other regions in Europe don't? Fast-flowing streams tumble down the steep slopes of both valleys and join to form the River Bela, which runs through the national park, changing its course every year. A kingfisher has dug its breeding burrow into the escarpment of the riverbank at an alleged safe height. The lair with the offspring reaches up to a meter deep into the bankside. The parents fish continuously for their chicks. On the Bela River floor, these European bullheads are rather poor swimmers, but they're still difficult to catch. They normally hide between stones, and the kingfisher has to wait for them to appear again. The next attempt, ...is also in vain. These 10 centimetre long fish have developed a cunning trick to make themselves virtually invisible. Bullheads can adapt their colour to the riverbed. Within seconds, they change from dark to light. When the fish move, however, they can be seen. The kingfisher kills one before bringing it back to the chicks at the nest. Another enemy of the bullheads lives by the river, the otter. He can even get to the fish in their hiding places by just flipping the stones over and snapping up the surprised bull heads. Black storks and grey herons use another strategy to hunt around the rocky banks of the Bela. With their long legs, they simply wait in the water until the fish emerge. Not always with great success. The river Bela is full of fish, but it takes a lot of these ones to fill yourself up. For the bears, catching fish as small as that just isn't worth it. Salmon, like those caught by brown bears in other parts of the world, are not found in the Bela. The bear female and her cub from the previous year are travelling through on the search for better feeding grounds. She knows from experience exactly where to go for food at which time of year. Early summer draws all the bears up from both valleys and onto the mountain pastures. There they can find fresh grass and nourishing herbs. The bears staple summer diet. The hardest time of year for the bear mothers is starting right now. The cubs are growing fast, but are still not eating much solid food. So they need even more of the high fat milk. It really takes it out of the females. Despite constant grazing, they keep losing weight. They still need to be alert, however. In bear country, Other hungry predators are on the prowl, but usually wolves don't dare to approach a female bear with offspring. Adolescent bears, who've already left their mothers, are in greater danger. Their biggest enemies are members of their own species. For male bears, the most critical phase of their lives is now beginning. Fully grown animals like this colossus feel threatened by these potential future competitors. While younger females tend to stay within the territory of their mothers, young males head further afield and risk crossing paths with older bears. This young male doesn't yet recognise the danger of the situation. The older bear has been following the youngster's tracks for a long while. Simply chasing the cub away is usually not enough for him. Such encounters often end in tragedy. This young male has had his spine broken. The two valleys are his patch and so he also claims all the females in the area for himself. For years he's been the strongest man around here. Females have therefore been happy to accept him as a father for their offspring. Sometimes they hang around with him for a few days, eating grass together like cattle to pasture. Every bear female instinctively knows that if they don't mate with him, he'll kill their offspring from another male the following year. He has an incredible memory for exactly which female he bred with in the previous year. Such is life in bear country since time immemorial. The rules are as old as the venerable Swiss pine. The pine forests of the Tija and Koprava valleys are among the oldest in Europe. Many trees are over 500 years old, some even a thousand. These ancient trees cut pretty dishevelled figures. Their tips have gone dead, while the side branches continue to hold needles. They've been cleared in almost all regions due to their hard wood, and are rare these days. Swiss pines can withstand temperatures down to minus 40 degrees, so they're well equipped for life in the high mountains, with all its challenges. Yet severe storms at this altitude can break even the strongest trees. Many pines grow on the bare rock. The soil, with its nutrients, has been washed down into the valley long ago by the rain. The roots clutch the stones, penetrating even the smallest cracks and anchoring the trees to the rocky surface. Old pines are often hollow inside. Here the wood is already decayed while the tree continues to live and grow. That's an advantage for the pine. The nutrients from the center of the trunk move down into the ground, where they can be reabsorbed by the roots. That's how the Swiss pine can regenerate itself, growing on for many centuries in the barren environment. Storm is brewing. The heavens open. More rain falls over the Tatra Mountains than the rest of Slovakia. All the water that falls over the two valleys runs into the river Bela. This time, the rain is falling for four or five days without a break. Even here, that only occurs once a decade. The small mountain stream quickly turns into a rushing torrent. It flows well over the banks, uprooting trees. It doesn't help that they're deeply rooted. The normally peaceful river has developed a destructive force, softening the earth until the hillside begins to slip. Giant trees drift away like children's toys. The water level has almost reached the kingfisher's breeding burrow, so the parents can hardly get to the chicks inside anymore. If the water continues to swell, the burrow will be lost. Then, finally, the rain stops. The forest is still submerged. Miraculously, the young kingfisher, recognisable by his short beak, has escaped the flood. His parents will provide food for a few more days, then he'll have to learn to fish for himself. Others are not so fortunate. The hazel grouse has lost her offspring. Eight chicks hatched before their mother led them into the forest to look for food. Now the youngsters have been swept away somewhere. Both parents are searching for them. They hear a pitiful chirping coming from the undergrowth. One chick has survived. The mother calls back. When they finally find each other, his mother takes the surviving chick to new feeding grounds in order to quickly rebuild his strength. Storms cause lasting damage to the forest. It will take decades for the uprooted trunks to completely decay. The force of the wind has ripped giant holes in the tree cover, creating clearances which are popular with the brown bears. The storm has provided them with new food sources. Sweet blueberries grow in abundance here, much more nutritious than only eating grass the whole summer long. For the bears, the toppled trunks are not an obstacle, but rather a walkway through the forest. For other animals, a steep slope covered with fallen trees is much more difficult to overcome. With his long legs, this deer has got himself tangled up in the debris of the ravaged forest and has slipped. In the process, he's broken his leg, he's still eating, but his strength has been sapped a long time ago. The next morning, eagles are circling the dead animal. He's been discovered by a female bear. In full health, the deer would have easily been able to see her off. But now the carcass of the old animal is providing the bear and her offspring with vital food resources for the coming winter. So the bears not only profit from the blueberries, but also other after-effects of the storm. The body also attracts other inquiries. As soon as the bears have had their fill, a young fox wanders in. He's pricked up his ears and is distracted. He's afraid of aerial attacks. Eagles can also prey upon young foxes. When one of them settles onto a nearby tree, the fox decides to clear off. Thus, a whole range of predators profits from the stag's misfortune. The destructive power of the storm also turns out to be a productive one. Sometimes also a rejuvenating cure. The river has once again changed course, and new sandbanks full of fallen trees have been created all over. For the brown trout, they pose no obstacle. In fact, quite the opposite. The fish like to draw back to the protection of the trunks from the open water, Especially when otters are on the hunt. Graylings also hide in the undergrowth from the otters, who now have a more difficult job. But there's always a place for a quick rest between the washed-up wood on the sandbank. The debris-strewn surfaces are quickly inhabited. Many plant species need open, sunlit places. Some only thrive up in the rocky ground of the mountains, or else down here on the fresh, stony surfaces of the valleys. The flooding has expanded their territory, something for the rare German tamarisk. It depends heavily on light, but is easily overgrown by larger plants. It can only survive in the long term in places where new sandbanks constantly emerge. They're the favourite hunting grounds of an extremely adept sprinter, the tiger beetle. With his hefty front incisors, he's the velociraptor of beetles. Running after his prey exactly like the agile dinosaur or springing into action to grab another insect. He pierces his prey through the exoskeleton then sucks it dry. Since the tiger beetle is always on the move he needs a lot of energy and therefore victims hunted and consumed on the sands. In summer there's enough quarry to be found by the river Bela. Common sandpipers also pick at insects and their larvae. The stony ground is the bird's nursery. Right after hatching, the chicks have to find their own food. And if it gets too cold, he just crawls under a parental wing. Just days after the flooding, the reforestation of the new sandbanks is beginning. Here the air is filled not with insects, but with willow seed. Over densely grown areas, the germ buds have no chance. But where there's enough light, the young trees can grow up to a metre within a single year. After a few years, a thick willow grove has emerged on the new sandbank. The fresh, lush foliage attracts red deer to the river. Young and old alike graze away on the willow. Caution counts around the riverside, however, and not only because of the current. The wet, slippery stones make life difficult for the deer. With their smooth hooves, they can easily slip or get wedged in the rocks. That's why wolves like to hunt around the banks. The deer know the dangers, but they don't have to worry about this one. His belly is already well filled, and that's exactly what the cubs in the forest are waiting for. After a good three weeks, they leave the den for the first time and eat solid food. Meanwhile, they're about three months old. The adult will regurgitate chunks of meat for them after returning from his hunt. Young wolves are dependent on their parents for two years before they become successful hunters themselves. Now they welcome the returning adult impatiently, as these rare images from the family life of wild wolves show. Around 50 wolves live in seven packs in the wilderness of the Tatra National Park. In August, mornings are already bringing mist to the forests of the Tičá and Koprava valleys. The days, however, are still long and warm. Towards the end of the summer, the cones of the Swiss pines ripen. Sometimes as many as a hundred nuts are sheltered under the scales of one pine cone. Seventy percent fat, twenty percent protein. The nuts are extremely nourishing. The spotted nutcracker knows this only too well. The nutcracker lives up to its name by using its powerful beak. He works away as if using a chisel, turning over individual scales, or else flying off with an entire cone. Even the Swiss pines of the Tatra Mountains only grow in certain areas, so spotted nutcrackers gather here from all over. They live rather secretively the whole year round, eating insects, birds' eggs, and the seeds of other plants. But they can hardly get enough of the fat rich Swiss pine nuts, devouring one after another. Sometimes they miss a few, and so the nutcrackers open the door for other animals. And the coal tit can get to the fatty seeds. And the squirrels also have an easier job. Even the brown bears can't ignore the treetop turmoil. The forest floor is full of sweet blueberries, but the bear now has the pines in sight. Those few nuts that the nutcracker has dropped are not enough for a bear, of course. Better than waiting for gifts from above is climbing up for a closer look himself. True balancing act. Wherever one looks, there are bears perched in the pines. At times, a 250 kilo bear will be swaying 20 meters above the ground, all for a few fatty nuts. Twenty bears together have been observed up in the trees. Over a surface of only two square kilometres. Their territories do overlap, but when there's enough to eat, they steer clear of each other. This is extraordinary behaviour for European brown bears, only known and filmed right here. For three weeks long, the bears harvest the fat-rich food. It's an important time for them when they have to concentrate on bulking up for the winter. And the pines are yet another reason why so many of them can survive here. The spotted nutcracker pecks at nut after nut. But simply taking on fat deposits immediately is not the only survival strategy employed by the birds for the cold season. They transport dozens of seeds in their throat pouches to lay down in the forest as reserve supplies. A single nutcracker hides tens of thousands of pine nuts in autumn. An incredible feat, especially of the memory. Even when there's a metre of snow lying in winter, the birds purposefully dig a tunnel down to their supply store. They often hide the nuts in places where no trees are growing. The heavy seeds would never reach these places unaided. Amazingly, they manage to find 80% of the nuts again. New pines germinate from the rest left behind. In this way, the nutcrackers are also the horticulture lists of the pine forest. Making sure that the rare trees are well distributed once again. A cooperation of tree and bird from which both can profit. And which is also to the advantage of the bears. Thus they too can have their fill of food in the coming years. When the pine trees have been fully harvested, they get stuck back into the blueberries and cranberries. Every calorie counts now. For most of the year, the big predators are vegetarians. Autumn arrives, rapidly bringing cooler temperatures to the Tatra Mountains. In September, a blanket of mist shrouds the valleys, and swarms of guests fly in from northern Europe. Rowan berries are now ripening in the mountain forests. Field fairs come in their hundreds and thousands for the red fruit, which hangs from the rowan trees. The berries are not only sweet, but often fermented. Only making them more attractive to the field fairs. Providing these birds with energy rich food is also a mutually beneficial deal. The field fairs harvest the trees and when they've finished one off, they keep on going, tree to tree and valley to valley. By doing so, they scatter the mountains and forests with seed bombs. Their droppings contain the leftovers of the digested fruit. New rowans will germinate in these places the following year, and if there's enough light, they will also grow. In this way, the field fares disseminate huge numbers of new trees every year, distributing the rowan berries in places where there's no forest. So they're also landscape gardeners, especially in places where storms have destroyed areas of old forest. Under the protection of the quickly sprouting rowans, Pine seedlings grow in turn. After 50 to 100 years, the pines are bigger than the rounds which were germinated by the field fares. The mountain pine forest is back. A cycle of constant renewal in the valleys of the Tatras has come round again. Destruction has laid the foundations for regeneration. From October, the first snow dusts the slopes and the bears head up to their winter quarters. A last morsel before they withdraw to their dens to wait out the cold season. They'll doze for months, living off fat reserves built up over the summer. Temperatures quickly become icy. Minus 30 degrees is not unheard of in the Tatra Mountains. Snow often lies over a metre deep. While the bears retreat up to their mountain dens, the red deer wander down into the valley, where it's easier to find food. Further down, the grass isn't as covered with snow. The weak ones will either starve or be taken as prey. This one fell victim to wolves, and now a fox reaps the benefits. A few berries and seeds still hang from the bushes, helping to get bullfinches and hazel grouse through the winter. The River Bela steams. Compared to the icy air, the water is warm at zero degrees. Only in calm areas does the water freeze over. The river is still largely free of ice, luckily for the otters. Even in winter, they have to remain active the whole day long to catch bullheads and other small fish. Despite their thick fur, these feisty creatures lose a lot of body heat hunting in the ice-cold water, so they still need up to a kilo of food every day. Winter now has the Ticha and Koprava valleys firmly in its grasp. While all the other animals must keep searching or hunting for food in the forests to survive the winter, the bears' year has come to an end. They're asleep, hidden in their dens. There, the females will bring new offspring into the world from January, who will help to repopulate the mountain slopes from May onwards. Nowhere in central Europe are there so many bears as here. The reasons are varied. They can live mostly undisturbed in the national park and can find everything that they need. They've even conquered the treetops. The valleys are protected from the peaks to the lowlands and natural cycles can take their course as they have done for thousands of years. Layers to hibernate and give birth to offspring. Feeding grounds with energy-rich supplies the whole year round. Such wild and uninhabited places, right at the centre of Europe, can virtually only still be found here, in the Ticha Valley and Koprava Valley of the Tatra Mountains.