Deep in the heart of Bavaria...
...in the northern shadow of the Alps...
...an enchanted castle stands atop a precipitous cliff.
A stunning testament to a troubled king...
...who turned to nature for solace...
...and preferred the company of wildlife
to that of his subjects.
A king who lost himself in the construction of a castle
so ambitious and audacious...
...it cost him his fortune...
...his power...
...and ultimately, his life.
(♪♪♪)
NARRATOR: This is Neuschwanstein: the Mad King's Castle.
(♪♪♪)
(Birds sing)
NARRATOR: Neuschwanstein is a Bavarian icon.
At first glance,
it is the quintessential storybook castle.
So picturesque, it was the inspiration
for Disney's Cinderella castle.
(♪♪♪)
NARRATOR: It's a fitting tribute,
since Neuschwanstein earned its creator,
King Ludwig II of Bavaria,
the nickname "The Fairytale King."
The surrounding countryside is equally magical.
Neuschwanstein looks out on glistening lakes
that host spectacular waterfowl,
including the vaunted mute swan,
a favorite of the Fairytale King
and an emblematic symbol in these parts.
The well-watered lowlands
provide plenty of food and protection
for other charismatic creatures, as well.
Nestled beneath the northern edge of the Alps,
they're surrounded by forests that provide sanctuary
for dozens of animal and bird species.
Above, the high meadows and steep mountainsides
are perfect habitats for the deer, goats, and antelope
that have called this part of Europe home
for thousands of years.
King Ludwig knew the area well.
As a young prince,
he'd spend much time here with his family.
He reveled in the natural beauty of the surrounds.
Even as a boy,
he preferred the tranquility of the countryside
to the bustle of the Bavarian capital, Munich.
But in 1864,
Ludwig became king at the tender age of 18,
when his father, King Maximilian, died suddenly.
The young Ludwig was ill-prepared to rule.
He preferred arts, music and architecture
to politics and power.
One of his first acts as King
was to summon classical composer Richard Wagner to his court.
Wagner's operas appealed
to Ludwig's fantasy-filled imagination...
...and it was that same love of fantasy and beauty
that compelled him to build Neuschwanstein in this spot.
He picked its location carefully.
He wanted to literally look down on the castle of his youth
from his own fairy-tale world,
while still drawing comfort from its nostalgic familiarity.
This was to be his sanctuary from the surrounding world,
a home for all occasions and all seasons.
(♪♪♪)
NARRATOR: In the spring, another local royal
surveys its kingdom as well...
...the golden eagle.
With wingspans that can reach more than 7 feet,
wickedly curved beaks and razor-sharp talons,
these massive raptors have called the Alps home
since long before Ludwig.
Soaring up to 15,000 feet,
they can glide for hours,
using warm updrafts from the mountains to stay aloft.
Males and females form monogamous pairs
that mate for life,
and they take long, undulating flights
to advertise the extent of their empire
to other eagles.
At the center of their territory is their castle,
a massive nest they use year after year.
Called an eyrie,
it weighs hundreds of pounds
and just like Neuschwanstein
is built into a steep cliff face.
The chick inside is about two months old,
almost ready to take flight
and make empty nesters of its parents.
It's an only child now,
though it likely had at least one sibling when it hatched.
Golden eagles normally lay multiple eggs,
but more often than not,
the biggest and strongest chick either outcompetes
or outright kills the smaller ones.
The fratricide ensures the survivor will get
its parents' undivided attention.
Once the chick fledges and matures,
it'll fly hundreds of miles
to find its own isolated territory,
and begin construction of its own mountain fortress.
That's what King Ludwig set out to do in the summer of 1868.
(Birds sing)
NARRATOR: He wanted a secluded but spectacular retreat
far from the politics and intrigue of Munich,
and he poured his heart into the design.
Ludwig's dream was a magnificent knight's castle
that embodied his idealized view of the Middle Ages,
rising like a jewel
from the natural wonders that surrounded it.
Built, he said, "On the lofty heights,
breathing the air of heaven."
The work started with a bang.
(Rock explodes)
NARRATOR: Crews used dynamite, which had
only recently been invented, to level the top of the ridge.
They laid the foundation stone on September 5th, 1869,
marking the official beginning
of the epic construction project.
Hundreds of laborers and artisans then set to work.
They built concrete foundations
and laid hundreds of thousands of bricks.
And, as the walls began to rise,
huge trees were felled for scaffolding...
...with efficiency even nature's resident woodworkers
would have appreciated.
These European beavers take skilled labor to the extreme.
They cut down trees with their sharp teeth,
and use whole trunks and branches
to build intricate family lodges
with underwater entrances and impenetrable topside defenses.
The leaves of the branches are left on.
They serve as emergency stockpiles
for later in the year, when food is less plentiful.
Beavers are keystone species,
wielding an oversized influence on their surroundings.
They build dams, which filter water,
flood rivers, and create crucial wetlands.
And they cut back trees and bushes,
opening up forest canopies,
and promoting the growth of heavy underbrush,
which provides a safe haven for many other animals.
Today in Germany there are as many as 25,000 beavers,
but back in King Ludwig's day,
they had been hunted almost to extinction in Europe
for their pelts and their castoreum,
a vanilla-scented secretion used in medicine and perfume.
Ludwig was not a fan of the hunting,
and banned it within hearing range of the castle.
He preferred to watch the animals, not kill them.
When he wasn't keeping an eye on construction,
Ludwig spent hours out on the trail.
He was much happier in the wilderness
than he was with other people.
An acquaintance once said that Ludwig
"is repulsed by his family and the entire court,
hates the army and soldiers,
finds the nobility ridiculous and despises the masses."
That didn't leave too many people to like.
He loved taking long walks in the evenings,
when the red deer were most active.
The deer make their home in the alpine meadows,
grazing on the sweet grasses
and digesting the fibrous cellulose
in their four stomachs.
They typically congregate in same-sex groups,
but in the fall, the males and females
come together to breed.
The males - called stags -
have been preparing for the fall mating season for months.
They've fattened up and grown sharp antlers.
As their testosterone levels rise in anticipation of the rut,
their antlers harden
and lose their velvety protective covering.
With the females looking on, the stags posture and pose,
trying to intimidate their rivals.
(Stag roars)
NARRATOR: Their distinctive roar is also used to establish dominance,
and the mature males raise quite a racket.
(Stag roars)
NARRATOR: One stag decides a mud bath is the way to go,
and attacks his puddle with gusto.
He's cooling himself off,
and getting some protection from insects.
As the ladies look on,
another male sprays urine to mark his territory.
Eventually the posturing ends,
and the dominant males get down to business.
(Horns clatter)
NARRATOR: The loser backs off.
The victor wastes no time reaping the benefits...
...a harem of up to 20 females, known as hinds.
Over the next several weeks, he'll mate with them,
and hoard them,
keeping them away from the less dominant males.
By winter, the two sexes will have gone their own way,
living apart until next year's rut.
For some, winter in these parts is a quiet time.
Alpine marmots head deep underground,
hibernating together in groups of up to 10 to stay warm.
They pad their burrows with hay,
seal the entrances with stones and soil,
and slow their heart rate and breathing to use less energy.
Other inhabitants stay much more active,
undeterred by the cold.
Though the water in these streams
hovers just above freezing, the white-throated dipper
sees nothing wrong with a swim.
An enthusiastic avian member of the polar bear club,
he wades into the water in search of insect larvae
and freshwater shrimp.
(♪♪♪)
NARRATOR: King Ludwig was enchanted by all manner of wildlife,
seeking it out no matter the season.
In the mountains above the castle,
the alpine chamois remain active all winter long.
(♪♪♪)
NARRATOR: Like the red deer,
females and the young usually live apart
from the mature males,
but in winter they come together for the rut.
This can be a dangerous time for young males,
as the more mature ones
attempt to chase them out of the female herds.
On the jagged rocks, these chases can be fatal,
even for the famously agile chamois.
(Hammering noise)
NARRATOR: For the workers at the castle,
the winters were equally dangerous.
Year after year they toiled in all seasons,
facing tough conditions on the mountain ridge.
The work was brutal - especially in the snow -
and accidents were common.
(Man screams)
NARRATOR: In all, at least 30 people died during construction.
But by 1873, the gatehouse building was complete.
Ludwig, desperate to get out of Munich, moved in,
even though the main palace was barely underway.
Although he was still the King of Bavaria,
much of his power had been stripped
during a series of wars that unified Germany.
Bavaria was now just a kingdom within the larger German empire,
and Ludwig became even less interested than before
in the affairs of state.
At Neuschwanstein, he still reigned supreme,
and could focus his energies
on the fantastical world he was creating.
The castle was to be both a place
to bring his medieval dreams to life,
and a tribute to the music of Wagner,
whom Ludwig revered.
Like a theme park before theme parks existed,
its interior design was based
on the stage directions for Lohengrin,
Wagner's opera about the Swan Knight
of medieval German legend, who was sent to rescue a maiden
in a boat pulled by swans.
The name Neuschwanstein means "New Swan Castle,"
and the regal bird was an ever-present motif.
It was also one of Ludwig's favorite companions in the wild.
Swans appealed to his romantic side.
They're beautiful, poetic, and mate for life.
(♪♪♪)
NARRATOR: These two mute swans seem to be engaged in an amorous dance.
But they're not actually a pair,
and they're not dancing.
They're male neighbors,
engaged in a carefully choreographed display,
spinning in close proximity with raised wings and arched necks.
The goal: to communicate, and seemingly agree to
a territorial border.
Once détente is reached,
the swans can return to their actual partners
for more important business.
Spring is mating season.
Then, it's back to work on the massive nest,
which needs to be dry and ready
by the time the female lays her eggs.
(Swans cry)
NARRATOR: Around her, the forest is coming to life
as the spring sun thaws plant and animals alike.
(Birds chirp)
NARRATOR: Up in the cliffs,
the golden eagles have a new brood of eggs,
waiting to hatch.
(Birds chirp)
NARRATOR: In the pine trees below,
a spotted nutcracker is hard at work.
It's trying to get to the tiny, well-protected nuts
inside a pinecone.
(Birds sing)
NARRATOR: On the ground,
a colony of black-backed meadow ants
is out in full force.
An unlucky earthworm is good protein.
It's quickly overrun.
The ants are also gathering materials for nest construction.
The workers build mounds up to 3 feet around,
usually on top of rotting tree stumps,
in places where mottled sunlight
filters down through the canopy.
Inside, one or multiple queens
lay hundreds of thousands of eggs,
the next generation of ants for the colony.
King Ludwig could have used that kind of manpower,
as he continued to oversee the construction of his castle.
(Hammering sound)
NARRATOR: Problem was, he kept altering the plans,
and adding new elements to the design.
He wanted the most advanced technologies of his day,
including hot air heating systems,
running water, electricity,
and even internal telephone lines.
Ludwig's expectations were spinning out of control,
and so was the budget.
The construction costs were piling up,
and the king began taking out personal loans
to keep his decadent project on track.
He was far more concerned with the castle
than with the running of Bavaria.
His crews worked year-round,
trying to keep pace with his demands.
The marmots, on the other hand,
are not quite as driven.
They've been asleep for more than 6 months,
and are finally getting back to work.
They have much to attend to.
Their burrows need to be mended and enlarged.
And they need to fatten themselves up
on fresh shoots and insects
so they'll be able to survive the next winter.
They go about their business with a nervous energy,
at once playfully excited and twitchy with worry.
They're always on the lookout for predators.
(Crows caw)
NARRATOR: A sentry sounds the alarm.
(Marmot whistles)
NARRATOR: The marmots - and everything else in ear shot -
scatter in all directions.
The threat comes from on high.
The golden eagle is on the hunt.
Below her is chaos.
Everyone running for cover.
Even the chamois are nervous.
The eagle can't pick them up,
but it can hit them with enough force
to knock them off the steep cliffs to their deaths.
The marmots make a mad dash for the safety of their burrows.
This time, the eagle comes up short.
But there's no doubt she'll be back.
Her eggs have hatched,
and she has a belligerent chick to appease.
In the trees below her, an avian father finds himself
equally harried.
He's a great spotted woodpecker,
identifiable by his long, sharp beak,
striking black and white feathers,
and bright red head patch.
He and his mate, equally striking
but without the red head, have built
a sturdy home inside this hollow tree.
They do their best to keep it tidy,
sharing the load like any good couple should.
But there's a red-headed monster inside,
and it demands to be fed...
And fed...
...and fed.
(Woodpecker chick chirps)
NARRATOR: Beetles, butterfly larvae, seeds,
the youngster isn't picky.
For four weeks, he'll run his parents ragged,
before fledging and leaving them in peace.
The eagles aren't so lucky.
Their chick won't leave until it's close to 3 months old,
and it requires a lot more food than the woodpecker.
Dad's nowhere to be seen,
so back to the hunt goes its mother.
The timing couldn't be worse for the marmots.
They've finally re-emerged from their burrow,
and are just getting comfortable outdoors again.
More urgent warning calls.
More mad dashes.
But this time, one youngster isn't quick enough
to the burrow.
The eagle has her meal,
and the tight knit marmot colony is down one member.
Like a natural cycle,
construction at King Ludwig's ever-expanding castle
continued season after season.
(♪♪♪)
NARRATOR: As Summer turned to Fall,
months and years blended into decades.
The turrets and towers rose slowly above the trees
and costs continued to skyrocket.
By 1880, 11 years after construction began,
the main palace was enclosed,
though the exterior was still far from complete.
Inside, work had begun on the lavish furnishings.
Central to Ludwig's desires was the all-important throne room,
which was carefully designed for one purpose...
...to embody the medieval doctrine
of divine right of kings.
The paintings of Jesus, the twelve apostles
and six canonized kings
were a representation of the unrestricted,
God-given power of the monarch.
It was ironic symbolism
for a king whose power had been whittled down
by the unification of Bavaria with Germany,
and who exhibited almost no desire to rule.
In actuality, Ludwig was becoming
more and more of a recluse,
spending most of his time in his private chambers
at the top of the castle.
He often slept during the day
and wandered the halls at night,
living in his fairy-tale world.
When he did venture out,
it wasn't to see his subjects or his court,
it was to get back to nature,
and make sure his animals were doing OK.
With his servants in tow, Ludwig braved the cold
to bring fresh hay to his beloved red deer.
In the winter, the deer struggled to survive,
digging in the snow for the frozen grasses buried beneath.
(♪♪♪)
NARRATOR: Because hunting had been banned, the deer weren't afraid,
and came in close.
Ludwig stayed with them for hours,
enjoying the solitude and the fresh winter air.
He must have felt a connection to these animals
that was missing from his interactions with people.
Just as the animals warmed his heart,
so did the spring warm his body when it came.
(Birds sing)
NARRATOR: Among the first out are the grouse.
This huge male capercaillie lives in the forest,
and has a grand display to attract potential mates.
(Grouse makes clicking call)
NARRATOR: But so far, no one is watching.
(Birds sing)
NARRATOR: The smaller black grouse
is a related species that prefers more open terrain.
The males, called blackcocks, are glamorous and flashy.
In King Ludwig's day,
their plumage was popular in noble ladies' hats.
(Birds sing)
NARRATOR: The females are a more subdued grayish brown,
earning them the accurate but flavorless nickname "grayhen."
During mating season, the males prance and strut,
offering up a distinctive bubbling call
to attract potential mates.
A female takes notice.
(Grouse makes bubbling call)
NARRATOR: In the forest, the capercaillie is still singing
to an empty theater.
(Grouse calls)
NARRATOR: The black grouse is having more luck,
but he's attracting more than just the female.
A rival male closes in for a fight.
It's a behavior called lekking.
(Grouse squawk)
NARRATOR: Puffed up and aggressive,
they wrestle and bite to impress the female,
who doesn't seem enthralled.
Eventually, the loser beats a hasty retreat...
...and the winner heads off to track down his prize.
The capercaillie cock finally has an audience as well.
(Grouse calls)
NARRATOR: A hen has joined him for a romantic stroll in the woods.
(Grouse calls)
NARRATOR: High on the mountainside,
male and female alpine ibex
are also socializing.
These large wild goats mated earlier in the season,
but haven't yet disbanded into their single-sex groups.
While the dominant male preens,
the younger males are still trying
to horn in on the females,
who, by this point in the season,
are no longer interested.
But it's good practice for the youngsters,
who are trying to move up in the dominance hierarchy.
Dominance is determined primarily by horn size.
Unlike the red deer,
who lose their antlers each year,
the ibex spend their entire lives growing one set of horns.
When the big boss strolls in,
there's no doubt who's in control.
The females are less concerned with him
than with keeping their young out of harm's way.
That's easier said than done with the rambunctious calves.
The big male, he just seems giddy with it all.
(Toads croak)
NARRATOR: In the lakes below,
a more chaotic interaction is brewing.
It's mating season for the common toad,
and the males are gathering.
They're all in search of one thing.
And when they see it, they quickly jump on board.
The big toad is a female,
though she's not treated like much of a lady.
Dozens of males fight for position.
There are no rules in this brawl,
and the males are so rough, and there are so many of them,
the females sometimes drown beneath their weight.
The fighting can go on for days,
and only the male who's in the right spot
when she lays her thousands of eggs
gets to fertilize them.
It's quite a different scene for the birds on the lakes.
By summer, their eggs have hatched
and they're enjoying family time with the chicks.
The mother swan's eggs have become
a brood of adorable puffballs.
They're growing fast, and spend much of their time
cruising for food with mom.
(Chicks chirp)
NARRATOR: The mallard duck chicks are also out and about,
enjoying the summer sun as their mother looks on.
Mallard females lay more than half their body weight in eggs,
and need time to recover.
(Chicks chirp)
NARRATOR: She spends time lounging with her babies.
The chicks are happy to oblige.
They imprinted on her at birth,
and watch her diligently,
picking up behaviors and learning how to be ducks.
Some will stay with her all the way through
to the next breeding season.
The more independent ones will take off once they can fly.
Until then, the mother guards them,
always on the lookout for danger.
By 1886,
King Ludwig must have been sensing the danger as well.
Construction costs continued to escalate out of control,
and he spent less and less time governing.
His ministers decided they had to take action.
(Door opens)
NARRATOR: They concluded that a diagnosis of insanity
would prove he was unfit to rule.
They built a case that was endorsed
by a panel of psychiatrists who never even examined him.
One of the most damning bits of evidence...
...his unconscionably expensive swan castle...
...Neuschwanstein - his only haven -
had now become a noose around his neck.
And it was only a matter of time
before his subordinates would pull it tight.
In the shadow of the castle walls,
other dangers lie quietly in wait.
The European adder is a venomous snake
that is prevalent in these parts.
This species is well-suited for the cool climate,
able to widen its body to absorb more sun.
It feeds on small mammals,
birds, lizards, and amphibians,
and likes complex habitats with a variety of different terrains.
This female has just given birth as few other snakes do.
She carried her eggs internally
- another adaptation for the cool temperatures -
then laid them just before they were ready to hatch.
The babies start fighting their way
out of the rubbery eggs almost immediately.
They hatch fully-formed and venomous,
and will shed their skin for the first time
within a day or so.
Once the babies are born,
their mother pays them little attention.
Within days, they'll be off on their own,
competing for food with all the other snakes.
This smooth snake has just caught a lizard,
but the snake may have bitten off
more than it can chew.
It looks like a draw,
a writhing pretzel of muscle and teeth.
But eventually, the snake prevails,
and secures itself a hard-earned lunch.
(Birds sing)
NARRATOR: Another European adder is also having success.
It's caught itself a mouse.
The adder has an advantage over the smooth snake.
After an initial bite,
it simply waits until its venom takes hold...
...then maneuvers into position
for a slow but steady meal.
It takes a few hours,
and leaves the snake looking quite bloated,
but it's a capture and kill that was never in doubt.
Ludwig was in better shape than the mouse, but barely.
He was under attack,
and isolated in his secluded fairytale home.
To his courts and his kingdom,
Neuschwanstein had become an immoveable weight,
the symbol of a king who had lost touch with reality.
On June 10th, 1886,
an armed delegation arrived at the castle,
which was still far from complete.
They took King Ludwig into custody
and stripped him of his rule.
(lock closes)
NARRATOR: Only three days later, while on a lakeside walk
with one of the doctors who had diagnosed him,
both he and the doctor died under mysterious circumstances.
Conspiracy theories linger to this day.
Some say he was shot and killed by his political enemies,
who kept his body hidden so no bullet wound could be found.
Others say he killed the doctor,
then died of a heart attack brought on by the cold water
as he tried to escape across the lake.
Either way, the king was dead,
and Neuschwanstein - his dream castle -
was largely responsible for his downfall.
As a final twist of the knife,
the castle was opened to the public
within weeks of his death,
even as construction continued.
Visitors were allowed to walk the halls
and ogle at the spectacle of the reclusive king's
most private retreat.
Ironically, the castle that drove Ludwig to financial ruin
became a windfall for the Bavarian Government,
minting money as one of Germany's
most lucrative attractions.
The cross that marks his death, on the other hand,
remains a quiet refuge,
watched over only by the swans he so adored during his life.
If there is any redemption for the poor king,
it's that Neuschwanstein - the New Swan Castle -
is seen today as a spectacular example of castle romanticism...
...and its surroundings continue to provide sanctuary
for the animals he loved.
The fantasy-land he so longed for is still a reality
more than 130 years after his death.
Despite its melancholy human story,
it is as beautiful as ever.
A fantastical castle
set among a lasting haven for fantastic beasts.
(♪♪♪)
♪♪♪