(animals calling)
(birds chirping)
(peaceful music)
(man speaking in foreign language)
The tropical rainforest is filled with life,
but many of its creatures are hidden,
and some are dangerous.
I'm entering at my own risk to get to know the forest.
Rainforests are virgin worlds,
and they still exist on several continents.
A world unchanged by man, fascinating,
with incredible diversity.
I'm here to film something no one would expect to see,
elephants.
While I wait for my first glimpse
of the forest elephants in Gabon,
it's my chance to tell the story
of the last remaining rainforests on our planet.
The images from this film are shot
in the Amazonian forest, and in equatorial Africa.
(upbeat music)
(helicopter whirring)
My name is Jerome Bouvier,
and I'm a cameraman specializing in wildlife.
I've worked all over the world,
but the rainforest was unknown territory for me.
Now, shooting a film by the director
of March of the Penguins,
I'll live in the jungle for four months.
(peaceful music)
(water splashing)
(animal squeaks)
It starts in Gabon,
with the challenge to film rarely seen elephant behavior.
This will mean waiting 90 feet above the ground in a tree,
hoping the beasts will show up,
and it's a special tree.
(upbeat music)
(man speaking in foreign language)
It takes five of us to hoist over 500 pounds of gear,
the height of a 10-story building,
just to set up the platform.
This moabi tree has been chosen because it bears fruit,
and it provides an ideal view of any elephants that arrive.
At first, with the river nearby, it seems like Eden.
(insects buzzing)
Within seconds, we're covered by thousands of tiny bees.
We have no nets or protection,
so it's good that they're harmless.
(people speaking in foreign language)
Everything we will need for the next few days
has to fit on a 20 square foot platform,
including the two of us.
Ben, my colleague, and I,
won't come down until we have the footage.
The ripening fruit just above our heads
is what will lure the elusive elephants
to the foot of our tree.
This is the key to the story.
Just as the animals need fruit to eat,
the tree needs to spread its seeds throughout the forest.
Nature has designed the perfect system.
The elephants will transport future trees to new places.
When an elephant ingests this irresistible fruit,
it becomes a type of spontaneous taxi.
Neither tree nor creature can know
where the seeds will land,
but we know that they will.
The seeds will be deposited with the elephant's feces
far from the parent tree,
so that's my mission from up here in the moabi tree,
to capture this clever reciprocity
between plant and animal.
In a way, they're both ambassadors for their kingdoms.
(man speaking in foreign language)
Even after weeks in the jungle,
it's challenging to see what's happening in front of you.
The landscape is so complex that at first,
your gaze gets lost.
But as the hours and days go by,
you gradually become able to see
increasingly subtle details.
It looks like we're in for a long wait,
but everything is relative.
This moabi tree is over 200 feet tall
and 15 feet in diameter.
(upbeat music)
It's come a long way since it germinated 600 years ago
in the time of Christopher Columbus.
Thinking about this here in Gabon's Ivindo National Park
makes me slightly dizzy.
My neighbors, though, are anything but.
(animals calling)
Gray-cheeked mangabeys also disperse seeds.
The monkeys carelessly stuff their mouths
with the pink flesh-covered seeds of the ilomba tree.
The monkeys can't digest the seeds,
but they love the aril that covers them.
As they move throughout the forest,
they drop future trees everywhere.
Before the first day is even over, I'm troubled with doubts.
Have we chosen the right tree, and if we have,
will the elephants come during daylight hours
so we can see them?
This may be the home to the largest groups
of forest elephants,
but what if they don't come at all?
There are never any guarantees with wildlife filmmaking,
but I know they're here.
A few weeks ago, I caught a brief glimpse of them.
(elephants trumpeting)
They look like bush elephants, just slightly smaller,
five tons, rather than 5 1/2.
15 years ago,
scientists determined that the animals in the forest
are a different species,
and they're so quiet, they're almost invisible.
(man speaking in foreign language)
I fall asleep listening to the sounds of a world
that is awakening.
(insects humming loudly) (animals calling)
(leaves rustling)
At dawn, we are awakened by sounds underneath our tree.
It's a false alarm,
and the wild boars are not stealthy.
But they too have a vital role
in the rainforest ecosystem.
(boars snorting and grunting)
As they dig up the soil in search of roots and bulbs,
they aerate it.
This allows water to penetrate deep into the ground,
keeping tree roots healthy.
We don't seem to bother the pigs,
but elephants are more sensitive,
if they come.
There's only occasional ground action in this forest.
Much more happens up here in the canopy,
where nothing limits the growth of life.
Plants even grow on other plants,
just to take advantage of the sunlight.
(peaceful music)
Whether in Africa or South America,
the canopy is packed with enthusiastic residents,
parrots and colobus monkeys in Gabon,
macaws and howlers in the Amazon.
No matter where we are in the world,
they're part of the 90% of rainforest life
that lives only in the canopy.
One tree can host a thousand different insect species,
with 43 of them ants.
Researchers don't know if five or 50 million species
live in the upper part of the rainforest.
Many relationships between plants and animals
remain mysterious.
It seems like every year there's a new discovery.
But for us, still no elephants.
We have been on the platform for over 24 hours,
but at midday, things are strangely still.
The forest seems overcome by a suffocating heat.
(ethereal music)
It brings out the smell of certain trees,
surprising smells, quite out of place,
the aroma of Chinese soup or even fresh paint.
Some trees have spines,
which prevented now-extinct giant sloths
from devouring their leaves.
Then, there's the majestic fig tree,
just one of 800 varieties.
(thunder rumbling)
Over 200 feet tall, it's like a cathedral.
And, like a welcoming house, it always bears fruit.
During the dry season,
three species of fig trees feed
nearly half of the animals in the rainforest canopy.
(peaceful music)
Many monkeys and a wealth of birds survive on figs.
Each does its share for the forest
by spreading the tree's seeds
far beyond where its roots can reach.
(thunder crashes)
Whatever falls to the forest floor creates new life.
As Lavoisier said, "Nothing is lost, nothing is created.
"Everything is transformed."
This constant renewal comes in the form of rain.
It's how the rainforest got its name.
1/3 of any precipitation is trapped
and absorbed by the canopy.
The rest penetrates the ground
and nourishes the roots of these wise old trees.
(frogs croaking)
Two days on the platform.
While we wait,
we realize that the flowers are key to the rainforest.
All this fantastic diversity around us
wouldn't exist without pollination.
(bee buzzing)
Across the world, in another rainforest deep in the Amazon,
flowers on creeper vines are magnets
for tiny primates called tamarins.
When the creature plunders the flower's nectar,
it's dusted with pollen.
Greedily moving from one flower to the next,
the tamarins transfer pollen as they go,
completing the plant's reproductive cycle.
(peaceful music)
The tamarins aren't always helpful, though.
When they attack a kapok tree,
they devour the fruit whole,
unlikely to disperse any seeds.
(upbeat music)
(bees buzzing)
(man speaking in foreign language)
In Gabon, by 3:30pm, sunset is an hour away.
We've taken turns daydreaming,
but there is no sign of the elephants.
(contemplative music)
I try to discern the creatures
hiding in the interplay of light.
The exercise reveals a huge talent for camouflage,
taken to perfection.
Camouflage is key in the rainforest.
Creatures here disguise themselves,
whether they are predators or prey.
Sometimes, they hide in plain sight.
Other times, they mimic different species.
Praying mantis imitate leaves to ambush prey.
The predator is perfectly designed for stealth,
articulated legs,
antennae that pick up the slightest vibrations,
acute vision,
and a head that pivots 180 degrees.
It's the only insect that can do this.
As another afternoon vanishes without elephants,
I am reminded of the cock-of-the-rock
in the Amazon rainforest.
(birds squawking) (peaceful music)
Not every creature in the jungle is subtle.
The male is so agile that he forgoes camouflage,
opting for contrast to charm potential mates.
In Gabon, waiting is hard,
so we decide to climb down to freshen up
in the stream below our platform.
(animal growls loudly)
What was that?
I don't know, but it was close.
(men speaking in foreign language)
Some sort of large cat?
Yeah.
The problem is, I'm not going down.
I'm not that fond of water.
Growling doesn't exactly
encourage nighttime bathing,
especially not a leopard.
We'll just wait a minute.
It seems like it's right there.
That's crazy.
(animal growls)
We decide to go to bed unwashed,
Ben, in his hammock, me on the platform.
We are tied securely.
Climbers have a great expression for this.
It's called a lifeline.
At this height, a fall could be fatal.
No sleepwalking allowed up here.
Before dawn on the third day, we hear elephants.
(elephants trumpeting)
(contemplative music)
Ben? Yes?
Come with your battery.
But they detect our presence and leave quickly,
without eating any fruit fallen at the bottom of our tree.
Will they come back?
I'm worried.
It's always a waiting game.
We have been waiting for forest elephants in Gabon.
But sometimes, everything happens without waiting.
In the South American jungle,
I think of what happened with howler monkeys.
(monkey howls) (peaceful music)
For over two hours, the howlers watched us
as we watched them.
Finally, they came closer.
Why did they come over to our tree?
Did the leaves have some value,
nutritional, gustatory, or even therapeutic?
Monkeys know the properties of their environment.
They know how to choose from the innumerable plant species.
Or were they so drawn by our presence
that curiosity won the battle over fear?
As always, the heat in the canopy is stifling.
After three days on the platform, I long for a bath,
made worse by the sounds of the stream below us.
(water splashing)
(water roaring)
During the dry season in every rainforest,
water is the only way to be cool.
(melancholy music)
Sometimes, along the banks, we're treated to a rare view.
In South America, a water-loving jaguar enjoys the river
with her cub.
Jaguars are mysterious and elusive,
and are thought to have supernatural skills.
They wave their tails above the water
to attract hungry fish,
a method unique among big cats.
Like the spotted cats that plunder their banks,
the rivers are also predators.
(wood cracking)
They can erode banks, changing their paths at will.
Relentlessly eroding the earth, nothing can resist.
Huge trees topple over and fall.
The rainforest close to rivers is always young.
It never reaches the 700 years of growth
required to be termed primal forest.
This doesn't matter to the fer-de-lance,
one of the most dangerous snakes in the amazon.
7,500 species of butterflies call the rainforest home.
It's easiest to see them along the rivers,
where there are gaps in the canopy.
(man speaking in foreign language)
Back in Gabon, it's dawn of day four.
No elephants, but the nighttime insect chorus
is replaced by bird calls.
(birds singing)
I remember that at dawn in the Amazon,
leafcutter ants get an early start on agriculture.
The fragments of leaves they transport
form the compost for the mushrooms
they grow inside underground cities.
While I ponder the miracles of rainforests,
in Gabon, the ground team heads out to search for elephants.
We stay on our platform, filthy and frustrated.
(elephants trumpeting)
It's dangerous to approach elephants on the ground.
If they get frightened, they may charge,
but this part of the forest floor is relatively open,
so the elephants should feel secure.
There are so many shots we need.
(melancholy music)
I want to be the one filming,
but all that really matters is getting shots
of the forest elephants.
Up on our platform, Ben and I find ways to pass the time.
Hey, Ben, Ben, Ben!
Yes?
(mumbles) the elephants?
I don't know.
(Jerome imitates squawking)
Tap him behind your ears.
(Ben imitates duck)
(Ben laughs)
(animals growling)
Night of the living dead.
(both laugh)
Then, amazingly, we have elephants.
The mother and her young seem less suspicious.
(tense music)
Will they come to the tree, right up to us?
The baby elephant reminds me of Jumbo.
I've never seen one so young.
He must be less than one.
(satisfied music)
At this age, he sticks close to mom and follows her lead.
He'll stay with her for six or seven years,
learning to survive in this complex and challenging forest.
Like all elephants, the herd is led by a female,
a matriarch.
Sadly, as we film the pair, the light fades.
But we are thrilled.
That was great.
Yeah, great.
Now that the elephants know our tree
is a source of tasty fruit, they'll come back.
We hope.
We decide to celebrate today's success with a bath,
because the elephants are gone.
(men speaking in foreign language)
I'd rather you went first.
But the leopard might still be close by.
Jump, don't worry, I'll cover you.
Go on!
No, no, goodbye, yeah.
Okay (laughs).
(water splashing)
There are no words to describe being clean
for the first time in days.
(peaceful music)
At dawn, the ground crew radios
that the elephants are just yards away,
at the base of a big fig tree.
It's quite dangerous,
because elephants can detect the faintest smells,
the smallest vibration.
(dramatic music) (speaking foreign language)
(peaceful music)
High in the canopy, our waiting is punctuated
by the sound of ripe fruit hitting the ground.
(fruit thudding)
Each impact is a call to the elephants.
Then, just before the light dims, they appear.
(triumphant music)
Finally, as if by magic,
the elephants converge on the fruit.
It's great to see them feasting at the foot of our tree.
We get the shots I've been dreaming of.
Mom, her young baby, and other elephants come to feast.
The waiting, the heat and discomfort,
it's all been worth it.
The next day,
we finish covering the elephants on the ground.
This experience feels like a fable to me,
the tree, the fruit, and the elephant.
And I finally understand,
plants, animals, and life itself
are all interdependent in the rainforest.
Waiting for the elephants,
I learned to live to the rhythm of an incredible rainforest,
which showed me the intimate, vital, complex links
uniting all living beings.
(upbeat music)