At the southern tip of the African continent,
a tiny refuge making a huge impact.
A concentration of life.
Its varied habitats offering a sanctuary
to some of the biggest animals on the planet -
And some of the smallest.
It's a story of beating the odds,
of species coming back from the edge of extinction
to reclaim their place in Africa's wilderness.
This is De Hoop:
Place of Hope.
Daybreak over the De Hoop Nature Reserve.
The morning mist reveals a herd of unique antelope.
These are Bontebok,
an Afrikaans name referring to their contrasting
dark and white coats.
The dew saturates the coastal succulent vegetation,
supplying the Bontebok with all the water they need.
It's a tranquil scene,
and the antelope are calm
and focused on their morning feed.
But their presence here is a triumph of conservation.
Less than a century ago,
relentless hunting had left no more than 20 Bontebok
in the world.
But they were saved by a peculiar quirk.
Bontebok cannot jump.
Herded into fenced camps by concerned landowners,
and unable to escape by jumping over the fences,
Bontebok numbers slowly recovered.
It was the start of a trend that transformed
this small part of the world
into a conservation zone for nearly-extinct animals.
In 1957,
the De Hoop Nature Reserve was set up
as an experimental wildlife protection area
where rare and endangered species could be nurtured
and their numbers brought back from the brink
to repopulate surrounding areas.
Now a part of a World Heritage Site
and with an important Marine Protected Area off its coast,
De Hoop is a beacon of conservation in Southern Africa
and a haven for vulnerable species.
Today, Bontebok numbers have swelled to almost 4 000.
And other species have found hope for survival.
De Hoop contains a number of habitats in one small area -
from the coastal rocky shores
to lowland Fynbos
and pristine wetlands.
But its protection doesn't end at the shoreline.
The bay is an internationally renowned sanctuary
for some iconic marine giants.
Southern right whales,
once hunted to near extinction, migrate here to calve.
Two vulnerable species,
the Cape vulture and the Cape mountain zebra,
are slowly gaining back lost ground.
In the numbers game
that underpins the survival of a species,
this small reserve is making a big difference.
Covering just 140 square miles,
the De Hoop Nature Reserve
could fit into Yellowstone Park 25 times.
And yet, despite its size,
it is packed with life,
offering a home to hundreds of species.
Part of this abundance
is thanks to the concentration of habitats
found in De Hoop,
a factor of its unique geography.
South of the reserve,
the Heuningnesrivier, or Honey Nest River,
flows into the sea at De Mond.
This river sweeps vast amounts of sand into the ocean,
which the sea then pushes back onshore,
creating majestic beaches and dunes.
To the east, the coastline becomes rocky.
Soft sandstone,
carved over millennia by the ocean and the weather,
creates a dramatic landscape.
Here, flat rock platforms
provide ideal hunting grounds for shore birds,
while rock pools give shelter to a variety of marine species.
Inland, flat pastures of succulents
and large expanses of low bush
provide food and shelter for many of De Hoop's residents.
Ocean,
rocky shores,
dunes,
lakes,
bush
and open pasture -
all packed into an area that extends just 10 miles inland.
A thin band of sanctuary,
offering hope to all the species that live here.
As morning comes to De Hoop,
the park's majestic giant seeks out its favorite pastures.
The Common eland,
the second biggest antelope in the world.
Eland are huge.
They can weigh close to a ton
and stand 6 feet at the shoulder.
For the indigenous hunter-gatherers
of Southern Africa,
they were a potent symbol of abundance and strength.
The San people immortalized the eland
in many of their rock paintings
and religious ceremonies,
and it was an essential part
of their coming of age
and shamanistic trance dance rituals.
They are slow giants.
Even when startled,
they can barely reach a peak of 25 miles per hour,
and they tire easily.
What they lack in speed, however,
they make up in strength.
When threatened,
an eland can leap 10 feet from a standing position.
Eland are nomads,
and have adapted to many of Africa's
challenging and diverse environments,
helped in part by an incredible ability
to survive on almost no water.
They are sociable animals,
forming large herds without being territorial,
and they are content to graze near other species.
But among themselves,
hierarchies still need to be maintained.
This large bull
asserts himself through an extraordinary adaptation
of his physiology:
knee clicking.
The unusual sound
is made by tendons slipping over the bones in his front knees.
The tendon vibrates like a string.
The sound it produces presents a clear picture of his size
and potential fighting capabilities to any challengers.
The bigger and stronger an adult bull,
the deeper and more imposing his knee-clicks.
Eland are browsers,
nibbling juicy shoots and leaves off small trees and bushes.
But a feast like this comes at a price.
As the antelope presses against trees and bushes,
ticks are brushed off onto him,
burrowing into his hair and latching onto his back
for a tasty blood meal.
Once a tick attaches
the eland won't feel it growing fat on its blood.
But other irritants
lie frustratingly just out of reach of his teeth or tongue.
Luckily, he has two very useful tools:
his long, elegant back-scratchers.
The eland's spiral horns
are a throwback to an ancient Asian ancestor
that had four horns.
Over time, the two pairs fused together,
intertwining into the corkscrew we see today.
Still, there are only so many spots he can reach.
And mercifully, he has help on board.
Cattle egrets are a species of heron.
They get their name
from their behavior of traveling on or near large grazers
such as cattle, antelope and zebra.
Moving with the herd means access
to an endless supply of juicy ticks.
Still, scoring dinner can be a challenge.
Their moving dinner table
comes with heavy hooves and swishing tails.
A slow, blood-filled tick is a treat for an egret.
But this opportunistic feeder is here for a bigger bonanza:
insects, spiders, frogs and worms
that are churned up in the soil
as the herds tug up tussocks to eat.
Following browsers and grazers
offers big rewards for little effort.
Parasites don't only affect the park's big antelope.
They'll latch onto any large animal that's passing by.
In this case, the largest bird in the world: the Ostrich.
A young male enjoys a satisfying dust bath,
getting rid of clinging parasites
and stripping excess oil off his feathers.
He's not alone for long.
It's his mate, wanting her own quality time in the bath.
They lie on the ground, swaying from side to side,
with their wings spread wide for maximum coverage.
A good dust bowl is a valuable commodity.
While two is company in this bath,
three is definitely a crowd.
The tallest and heaviest living bird,
male Ostriches can tower at almost 10 feet
and weigh up to 330 pounds.
Their giant size makes flight impossible.
But they have adapted by becoming extremely fast runners.
Long, powerful legs
allow Ostriches to sprint at up to 43 miles an hour,
with strides of more than 10 feet.
Elite sprinters need special footwear,
and Ostrich are no different.
Most birds have three or even four toes on each foot,
but the Ostrich has only two.
The inner toes are tipped with long, curving claws
that dig into the ground like spikes on a sprinter's shoe.
This claw is also used for self-defense.
High up above them, as the sun gathers strength
and the day heats up,
a fleeting glimpse
of one of De Hoop's greatest conservation successes.
The Cape vulture.
One of the biggest vultures in Africa,
its wingspan measures up to 8 feet.
Some 200 of these reclusive scavengers
have made their home
in the Potberg Mountains that border De Hoop,
comprising the last remaining colony in this area.
Over the years, their numbers have plunged
plunged due to loss of habitat, power lines, and poison
from carcasses left out by farmers
to kill other scavengers like jackals.
By the 1970s,
just 30 vultures remained alive in this area.
But thanks to a shift in the attitudes of local farmers,
and the sanctuary offered by De Hoop,
the number of these elusive scavengers continues to climb.
The park provides a haven for many bird species,
but the region as a whole
is also an essential habitat for bird life.
Beyond the western boundary of the park,
Greater flamingos use this estuary to feed,
preparing themselves for their migrations northwards
after the rainy season.
When the time comes, they will fly the 600 miles
to blooming deserts in Namibia and Botswana.
If the rains have been good, they will breed there.
If not, they will come all the way back to this region.
The flamingos are tucking in.
They are filter feeders, and here they have plenty to eat.
The sand flats in the wetlands near De Hoop
are full of microscopic algae and bacteria,
organic matter that clings to individual grains of sand.
It's also a feast for these Globular mud snails.
The algae and bacteria
make the sediment particularly rich
in small crustaceans and marine worms -
and the flamingos are taking full advantage.
They're on the move,
sieving through the sediment for the tastiest morsels.
When they find a particularly good spot,
they will work it over thoroughly,
slowly pivoting around in a circle
to dig through the sediment.
As the tide retreats,
their circular excavations leave behind
a neat bit of landscaping:
a small island, briefly wrestled over by a pair of Hermit crabs.
In the west, the shore is a sandy expanse,
but just a few miles away on the eastern edge of the park,
this is a transformed coast.
This is a harsher, more demanding environment,
where waves break on a rugged and rocky shore.
It seems inhospitable to all
except for the toughest limpets and mussels.
But for this bird, it's perfect.
The African black oystercatcher
is another living symbol of the success of De Hoop.
Found only in southern Africa,
its numbers had fallen to below 5 000 by the early 1980s.
African black oystercatchers build their nests on the ground,
which makes them extremely vulnerable.
From marauding pets to off-road vehicles,
encroaching human activity
almost doomed this charismatic resident of the rocky shore.
But protected coasts like this
offer a safe space to these birds.
Still, life here isn't easy.
The oystercatcher
is restricted to a narrow and dangerous strip of land -
the intertidal zone.
Surviving here, avoiding pounding waves,
takes speed and skill.
It feeds at low tide
when the shellfish on these rocks have been exposed.
A specially adapted bill and powerful neck muscles
allow it to grab a mussel quickly
and to tear it free from its mooring of fibers.
A speedy getaway is essential.
The waves here are powerful,
and even a fraction of a second could prove costly to a bird
caught in the surging breakers.
Safe from the ocean, it gets to work on its catch.
His mate has also been successful:
she's jabbed a limpet off its rock
and is carving out its soft meat with her bill.
It's hard, tiring work, and to sustain themselves,
adult birds need to crack open and eat
scores of these armored morsels.
With plentiful food and a protected park around them,
De Hoop's oystercatchers are thriving,
swelling the numbers of this threatened species.
As the tide comes in, the oystercatchers retreat.
The birds have to wait for the next low tide to eat again.
But for other inhabitants of the De Hoop coast,
it's feeding time.
A marine protected area, declared in 1986,
extends for 3 miles into the ocean off De Hoop.
This allows fish species to thrive here, close to the coast,
largely untouched by overfishing in this ocean.
At high tide, many species of native fish
move into the shallow water to feed.
And as the rock pools fill up with marine life,
they become an ideal hunting ground
for one of this coast's most cunning predators:
the octopus.
This highly intelligent animal preys on crabs and rock lobster.
He moves easily between land and sea,
searching for snacks between the rocks.
De Hoop is full of conservation success stories.
Out in the bay, the star of De Hoop's Marine Protected Area
is coming home to breed.
The Southern right whale.
One of the rarest of all the planet's large whales.
These giants have completed a long journey,
leaving behind their feeding grounds
in the icy waters off Antarctica,
and journeying north to the milder coasts
of South America, Australia and Africa.
They've come here, to this protected coast,
to mate and to breed,
as part of the largest gathering of their species
in the southern hemisphere.
Half of all Southern right calves born in Africa
are born at De Hoop.
They are priceless treasures,
a new generation
inching this species away from the threat of annihilation
that loomed over it just 80 years ago.
Their name reveals their grim history.
Whalers named them "right whales"
because they were targeted as the right whales to hunt.
These docile and intelligent animals were obvious targets
and their high fat content made them an easy haul
as they floated after being harpooned.
For over 200 years
they were slaughtered on an industrial scale,
and by 1935, when they became officially protected,
fewer than 2 000 remained alive on the planet.
But determined conservation efforts
have now begun to pay off.
Today, the population is estimated
to be around 7 000 individuals in the southern oceans,
and this figure is doubling about every decade.
The dunes of De Hoop
form a barrier between the ocean and the land,
but this barrier is far more mobile than it looks.
Huge volumes of sand brought down by rivers
and then dumped onto the shore by the ocean
are swept up these slopes.
Abrasive and always in flux,
it's a tough environment for life;
But some species have made a home here.
A Cape legless skink is in his element,
living and feeding under the sand.
On the plain, the park's iconic species
has adapted to a more forgiving habitat.
These Bontebok
are starting to get down to the important business
of the survival of the species.
It's mating season, and sprits are high.
This female is ready to breed,
and the males are starting to show off for her.
A young male sprints through a neighbor's territory,
displaying his prowess.
He's been noticed by the females,
but he's also been seen by the resident male.
It's a deliberate provocation
to the established male's dominance,
and it can't go unchallenged.
Bontebok showdowns are usually more about displaying bravado
than locking horns.
But sometimes exceptions have to be made,
and young pretenders need to be put in their place.
It's a test of strength rather than a duel to the death.
Their horns are for wrestling, not stabbing.
The bout is over.
The challenger has been put in his place,
and plods away to try his luck
with a less experienced sparring partner.
The winner has secured his territory,
and with it, the females of his harem.
Despite his victory, courting is still required.
He approaches the female,
nose outstretched, head low and tail lifted -
a Bontebok proposal.
If she is impressed, she will allow him to sniff her
to see if she's ready to mate.
Their courting is a delicate ritual of advance
and retreat.
This male is so intrigued by his potential mate
that another opportunistic suitor has snuck in unseen.
He escorts the newcomer off the premises.
At the edge of the pasture, a flash of black and white.
But these are no ordinary zebras.
These are Cape mountain zebra.
Found only in South Africa
they are another De Hoop success story.
Great climbers, with hard, pointed hooves
perfectly adapted to walking on rocky slopes,
they generally live in mountainous regions
up to six and a half thousand feet above sea level.
But their need for a rich variety of grazing
and plentiful water
put them in direct competition with humans.
By the 1950s there were fewer than 100 zebras left alive.
Now, thanks to national parks and reserves such as De Hoop,
the current global population of Cape mountain zebra
is estimated to be around 1 500.
There is hope that De Hoop's zebras
will in future be able to swell herds beyond the park.
De Hoop is a sanctuary,
and the larger species that thrive here
are free from predators.
But down under their hooves, another world exists
where small but lethal hunters stalk their prey.
A baby Cape cobra ventures out from his shelter,
a prince in waiting.
First, though,
it will have to grow to its full length of almost 5 feet,
shedding its skin as it grows.
While he's still small, dangers are all around.
As an adult he will be treated with much more respect,
feared as one of Africa's most dangerous snakes.
Now, though, he needs to avoid being trampled
by the park's bigger residents.
When it comes to poison, however,
size doesn't always equal danger.
An endangered Cape burrowing scorpion
on high alert.
It's getting ready to defend itself from an intruder.
Fearsome-looking stingers stab and parry like swords,
but although they can land a vicious strike,
these are not very poisonous.
Scorpions have two weapons:
their venomous stinger, and their claws.
Less poisonous scorpions need two bigger, stronger claws
to kill their prey and see off rivals.
The Black creeping scorpion looks deadly,
but its massive claws reveal that its sting
is probably relatively mild.
A passing wood louse shows
scant respect for the armored beast.
The soil of De Hoop is largely sandy and chalky,
and yet this nutrient-poor soil is a perfect home
for one of the planet's most threatened
and diverse plant realms.
The planet is divided into six so-called floristic kingdoms,
areas in which similar plant species tend to grow.
The Cape floral kingdom is not only the smallest,
but it's also the most diverse:
3% of all the planet's plant species,
growing in an area the size of the US state of Maine.
Comprising 80% of this diverse plant life is Fynbos.
This is not a single species but rather a type of vegetation
encompassing a variety of species.
Moving through this world of flowers, a tiny hunter.
A Flower mantis waits patiently for a passing victim.
One of the reserve's smallest creatures
is connected to its biggest.
Like the eland,
revered as a deity by the San hunters of Southern Africa.
The mantis was the San people's supreme god,
the trickster deity "/Kaggen".
It was believed that it was /Kaggen who created the eland.
Success - but he's bitten off more than he can chew.
The caterpillar is inedible,
protected by a chemical secretion.
Down below, another possible meal scuttles nearer.
A juicy cockroach.
But the mantis knows that this, too, is off the menu.
The cockroach shoots out a highly toxic fluid
when threatened.
Largely untouched by predators,
it has free reign over this scrubby wilderness.
It's time for the mantis to find a better hunting spot.
Soon, another quarry comes into range.
Camouflaged on its flower,
the mantis lets the wind
nudge it closer and closer to its victim
A hearty meal for a small but ferocious predator.
In the afternoon the mythical creations of the mantis god
are on the move, looking for fresh pastures.
It's a stately caravan,
and a couple of Ostriches have joined in.
Young eland tend to stay together,
forming an informal nursery at the rear of the procession.
Another generation of eland,
growing up in safety, their futures secure.
Nearby, living symbols of the success of De Hoop:
a Bontebok cow and her calf.
For now, she is entirely dependent on her mother,
but after a year,
she will move away from her herd, striking out on her own
to join another group and start her own family
in one of the world's greatest conservation stories.
Dusk falls on the southern tip of the African continent.
The eland and Bontebok are settling down for the night.
Out in the bay, baby whales press close to their mothers.
Tomorrow it will all begin again:
a new day in a place offering new hope.