♪ MUSIC ♪
NARRATOR: When wildlife
and humans
face-off
in the big city,
raccoons invade
backyards,
snakes annex
an historic landmark,
gulls come to blows
over a slice of pizza,
and a city park is transformed
into a wrestling ring,
on the jagged coast
of Canada's Eastern shore.
A delicate and diverse
ecosystem thrives
on the fringes
of the continent.
Welcome
to the Wild Wild East.
Eastern Canada's
largest city
may seem like an unusual
place for wildlife,
but Halifax
is an unusual city.
Animals travel here
from the shoreline
and the forest.
Deer,
raccoons,
chipmunks,
gulls,
and even snakes
make their homes
amongst urban sprawl.
These crafty critters
find plenty of advantages
to life in the city.
The urban environment
offers a near perfect mix
of protection,
food
and shelter.
But life in the big city
isn't cheap.
Living here costs
some animals their lives.
Humans are the apex
predators here.
Traffic, urban sprawl
and pest-control
all threaten
the animal's survival.
To survive the animals
must be smart.
Using speed,
camouflage,
flight
and foraging under
the moonlight,
wildlife makes
the most of city life.
Crows gather
in the hundreds
to share intel
about food sources
and unfriendly faces
across the city.
Raccoons den in attics,
high off the ground,
only coming out
at night,
when their downstairs
neighbors are fast asleep.
In the city,
these buildings are like
the raised cliffs
of islands,
sheltering the birds
from nearby predators.
Though we may not
see it,
wildlife is always
watching us.
This is the city
seen through
the animal's eyes.
As a new morning dawns
over the Halifax Harbor,
commuters rush
to work,
distracted by business
meetings and lunch dates.
It's easy to miss what's hidden
high up in the trees,
but if you look
hard enough,
a masked bandit
looks back.
Raccoons are everywhere
in Halifax.
For every one
in the woods,
there are at least 10
in an urban environment
the same size.
That means in the city
there could be
up to 150 raccoons
per square mile.
Raccoons are even living
in people's houses,
transforming an attic
into a den.
And unbeknownst
to the homeowners,
these kits were born here
last spring.
It's fall now and the kits
are six months old.
Like all raccoon moms,
she's a single-mother,
bringing up her litter
all on her own.
She teaches by example.
The kits shadow her
on foraging trips
as their senses
develop.
Though they have
good night vision,
raccoons are thought
to be color blind
and have trouble
seeing long distances.
Their other senses
are more attune.
Raccoons' hearing
is so strong
their ears can pick-up
an earthworm
squirming underground.
And their noses help them
navigate undetected
while the city sleeps,
catching whiffs of
potential food,
or the scent markings
of other raccoons.
But their most
important sense, by far,
is touch.
Raccoons see
with their hands.
Two-thirds of the sensory
receptors in a raccoon's brain
are used to process
tactile information,
more than
any other animal.
Raccoons will rub their food
before consuming it,
gaining information about
what they're about to eat.
And they're able
to find insects
simply by digging their paws
deep into the garden.
In the wild raccoons
need to escape ambushes
from bobcats and
coyotes.
But their greatest
killer in the city?
Traffic.
It's Mom's job to
teach the young kits
how to dodge dangers
and find food.
She's their protector
until the young raccoons
are 10 months old,
and ready to strike out
on their own.
Raccoons are nocturnal,
so while they rest,
the city
begins its day,
it's time for this furry family
to nod off.
In Halifax Harbor,
historic George's Island.
It's ruled by one of the world's
most feared animals.
Hidden in
the untamed grass,
the Maritime garter snake.
This military fortress
was built in the 1700s
to protect the young
city of Halifax.
After the Second
World War,
the fortress
was abandoned,
and the snakes
seized control.
On the mainland, the legend
of "Snake Island" grew,
with rumors of
thousands of snakes.
A scientific survey
from 2006
clarifies
this speculation,
estimating that there are
around 600 adult snakes here.
Not many people
visit the island,
and even fewer
see a snake,
much to their relief.
But if snakes can't be seen
on Georges Island,
it's because
they don't want to be.
The cracks and crevices
of the decaying fortress
make perfect
hiding spots.
But when no humans
are around,
garter snakes lie out
on the warm stones
to regulate
their body heat.
The garter's diet
is purely carnivorous,
and they'll eat almost
any living thing
they can overpower.
On George's Island
that means lots of insects.
This ant is bringing back
a dragonfly dinner
for the colony.
But if
it's not careful,
it might become
a snake's snack.
But the most plentiful item
on the Georges Island menu
is escargot.
Flicking out its tongue,
the snake collects invisible
scent particles in the air,
transferring this data to
an auxiliary scent organ
on the roof
of its mouth.
Snakes primarily see the world
through their tongues
and its forked tip
expands their view.
Garters were so named by
North America's early settlers.
Their scales resemble
the woven ribbons
worn by the people
of the time
to hold up their socks.
They are the largest
serpents in Nova Scotia,
and can grow as long
as baseball bats.
Underneath
their scales,
the snake's skeleton
is made up of 200 vertebrae.
Humans only have 33.
Sandwiched between
ribs and skin
is a layer of muscle
that gives the snake
amazing control
over its entire body.
People have marveled for ages
at the serpentine slither.
How can a beast
without limbs
move with
such precision?
Snakes propel themselves
by using their environment.
They weave forward
by pushing their bodies
off rocks
and plants.
Slithering across open ground
is a little trickier.
In the same way
hockey players
dig their skates into
the ice to push off,
snakes use their
overlapping scales
to dig
into the ground
and push
themselves forward.
And because the scales
all face the same direction,
a snake can't move
in reverse.
Soon winter
will arrive,
and the Georges Island snakes
will trade the warm stones,
for moist dens
underneath the fortress.
They don't hibernate,
just severely
limit their activity,
and huddle together
for warmth.
At the southern tip
of Halifax peninsula
is Point Pleasant Park.
A little piece
of nature
on the fringe
of the urban landscape.
This is the place
urbanites go
expecting to see wildlife
like the black-capped
chickadee,
the North American
red squirrel,
or the eastern chipmunk.
Feeders to decorate the paths
draw out wildlife.
And the well-fed critters
have come to rely
on the nuts and birdseed
left out for them.
They've adopted a new,
human-assisted,
foraging pattern.
While it changes
their natural behavior,
it also means more animals
are able to survive here.
And for birds like the blue jay,
that forage year round,
it means a reliable meal
during the harsh winter.
Though managed
by people,
this forest is the stage
for the natural dramas
of life to unfold.
The highly territorial squirrel
watches on.
As far as
he's concerned,
these nuts
are his.
He won't stand
for this intrusion,
not from
the smaller chipmunk.
With the squirrel
moving in for the nuts,
the chipmunk knows
it's time to move on.
But the approaching
pigeons
are way out of
the squirrel's weight class,
he'll have to wait.
The squirrel moves
back in for the nuts,
but then...
...a twist.
A new rival.
In the city park, territories
frequently overlap.
(squirrels squawk)
Dust-ups like this one
happen in the blink of an eye.
As daylight
begins to fade,
the long workday
comes to an end.
But out above
the harbor,
a notorious bird
shades the crimson sky.
American crows
are coming home to roost.
Every night,
hundreds of crows
descend on
this Halifax university.
A mountain ash tree
is the crows' cafeteria
on campus.
At this time of year, a good
meal is hard to come by.
Roosting in an area
with an ample food supply
means dinner and breakfast
are secured.
Crows thrive in the city
because they're geniuses,
who use their surroundings
to their advantage.
To open nuts, crows
will fly above city streets
and drop them
into traffic
and let the cars
be their nutcrackers.
Once their meal
is revealed,
they will dodge cars to collect
their meals from wheels.
Crows can talk
to each other too.
They are able to communicate
the location
of food sources
across the city.
Crows have
remarkable memories
and never forget
a face.
When they've been
chased away by humans,
they'll actually warn
other crows
about the unfriendly
human.
A group of crows
is called a murder,
but often
it's one big family,
made up of two parents,
and up to 15 children,
born over
the last five years.
Once a male
and female mate,
they will most often
be together for life.
When the temperature
begins to drop in the fall,
the city's crow families
join together
to spend the night
at a communal roost.
Gathering in large numbers
keeps them warm.
And although they'll roost
in the country too,
they prefer the city;
it's warmer than rural areas.
The city life also offers
another advantage for the crow.
On-campus lamp posts
are night-lights.
This helps them spot
their greatest predator,
the great horned owl.
But with this many crows
in one spot,
he wouldn't
dare attack.
Crows ward off predators
by mobbing them,
cooperatively attacking
the predator,
like a scene straight
out of a Hitchcock film.
As the night
wears on,
crows swoop in
from all directions,
their numbers entering
the hundreds.
The roof of this
university building
is their final
resting spot.
This murder,
silenced by the night.
After a long day,
the pulse of nightlife
pounds through
the streets.
Locals call this intersection
Pizza Corner.
But as the humans
stumble home,
a new crowd
is just waking up.
Most people
call them seagulls,
but the proper name
is gull.
These highly
adaptable birds
can survive anywhere
there's food.
Until a century ago,
that meant
living near the water,
and preying on fish
and crustaceans,
so people gave them
the nickname, seagull.
But they've found
easier pickings inland.
Their new foraging grounds
include landfills,
parking lots,
and farmer's fields.
There are over
50 different species
of gull
around the world.
The two most common
in North America
are ring-billed
and herring gulls.
The best way
to tell them apart
is by the markings
on their beaks.
Ring-bills
have a black ring,
and herring gulls
have a red dot.
This crowd
is a mix of both.
As the morning
draws closer,
more and more gulls
descend on Pizza Corner.
This nightly ritual
is a blessing
for the city
sanitation crew.
The gulls do most
of their work.
The number of gulls
around the world
has skyrocketed
in recent years.
In areas where food
is abundant
they can double their population
every 15 years.
But gulls' increasing
proximity to humans
has made them
more confident,
and more aggressive.
Gulls are incredibly
intelligent birds.
And it may be hard
to discern,
but they are actually
communicating.
(gull squawking)
Its long call tells
the other gull
it's not going
to back down.
(gull squawking)
He spreads out his wings
as a warning.
This gull won't
hesitate to peck.
But as more and
more gulls swoop in,
the feeding frenzy
turns into a turf war.
Gulls can be ruthless
in their pursuit of food.
When food is scarce,
they'll even go as far
as eating the young
of their own species.
Blowouts can leave gulls
seriously injured.
And this one
now has a broken leg.
Human intervention
arrives on the scene.
(police siren)
Breaking up the gull's
brawling breakfast.
Meanwhile,
across the city,
another nightly
occurrence
in a typical
urban backyard.
Raccoons' fur
is camouflage,
helping them blend in
to the backdrop of the night.
Many people believe
that raccoons
are the genetic
descendants of dogs,
cats or even bears,
but they constitute
their own species.
Raccoons' genetic
ancestors
lived in the tropics
of South America.
Two and a half
million years ago,
they began
to move north,
evolving into the raccoons
we know today.
As the population
of North America grew,
raccoons began living
closer to humans.
Now animal researchers
believe that city raccoons
are evolving again,
adapting to their new
urban environments.
More than just instinct,
their success here
is because of
their amazing
problem solving skills
and memory.
Here there's more food
and no natural predators.
The raccoons
are more fertile,
have a greater
survival rate,
and are chunkier than
their country cousins.
And those marvelous hands
are also quite dexterous,
helping them open doors
or break into garbage bins.
But, in the city, idle hands
are the devil's playthings.
(plate smashes)
With their cover blown,
the raccoons move on
to the next backyard.
It's no wonder raccoons are
generally seen as pests
by their human
counterparts.
They even carry and spread
harmful diseases,
like rabies
and distemper.
But as long as humans
keep leaving out dinner,
raccoons
aren't going anywhere.
Another day
in the Wild Wild East,
and the routine
begins again.
Many think urban sprawl
displaces wildlife,
but the story is
much more complicated.
Animals are everywhere
in the city,
adapting their behavior
to new surroundings,
and in some cases
even changing it.
Wildlife in the city
can be messy,
(plate smashes)
or loud,
but from the animals'
point of view,
they've got just as much right
to be here, as we do.
They share our food,
our streets
and even our homes.
And someday,
if city planners are mindful
of nature's design,
human and animal life
may achieve harmony
in Halifax.
The city
never sleeps,
in the Wild Wild East.
♪ THEME MUSIC ♪
