(♪♪♪)
The dry breath of
a warm desert gale
howls over the vast
expanse of Namaqualand.
For most of the year,
this northwest corner
of South Africa
is an alien land,
ravaged by the sun,
and sculpted by the wind.
To persevere in this
petrified world
demands the most extraordinary
strategies for survival.
Rooted into the rocky façade
is a resilient tree.
It contorts its ashen limbs
towards the sky
in defiance of the elements.
This is the Namaqua Rock Fig-
The ultimate survivor.
Its drive for water is so strong
it has the power to split rocks!
In the Rock Fig's realm
only the toughest endure-
with fierce determination.
The mighty Rock Splitter offers
salvation for many who dwell
in this hostile world
of crumbling stone.
January is an arid and desolate
time of year in Namaqualand.
It's summer, and it's bone dry.
Winter rain
is still months away.
The region is in the grip
of the worst drought
in more than a hundred years.
Yet, this area is
a natural wonder-
a biodiversity hotspot
boasting the richest
succulent flora on earth.
But its true beauty remains
concealed during the dry season.
It's here that the weathered
Rock Fig defiantly grips
the edge of a jagged ridge
in the Goegap Nature Reserve.
But how does it survive here?
Once upon a time,
a fig seed became lodged
in a tiny crevice
on these rocks-
and here it began to sprout.
The sapling's roots penetrated
the tiny cracks in the stone.
Like a living, expanding wedge,
they delved deeper and deeper
into the fissures,
eventually
splitting the boulders.
Its aggressive root system
can grow almost 200 feet long.
By drawing water from deep
within the earth,
the Rock Splitter retains
its green mantle
throughout the year.
By midday, heat radiating off
the searing slabs of stone
cause the temperature to rise
to a blistering
110 degrees Fahrenheit.
Despite the intense heat,
the desert holds a surprising
array of wildlife.
A dazzle of Hartmann's
Mountain Zebra
also inhabits the valley
below the Fig.
The adult stallion rules
over his harem of four mares
and their offspring.
His distinctive high-pitched
snort is a warning signal-
to drive off challengers.
This species is smaller
than the plains zebra.
But what really sets
these ones apart-
their bellies have no stripes!
Farther up, on the mountainous
slopes around the Fig
is the ideal foraging terrain
for a herd of Gemsbok,
mostly females.
One of this doe's horns
never grew in- a birth defect.
She keeps a watchful eye
on the herd's calves.
They remain hidden in the brush
to protect them from leopards
and prowling hyenas.
Their mothers only visit them
to nurse every few hours.
At six weeks, the youngsters'
striking black-and-white masks
of adulthood
begin to emerge.
It's a sign that
they're now ready
to join the rest of the herd,
and start grazing
on the Namaqua scrub.
As the sun's first rays catch
the Rock Fig's leaves,
its canopy becomes a bright
green beacon for life
against the rocky outcrops.
The tree produces a new crop
of figs every few months.
But they're most abundant
in summer.
They're much smaller
than an average fig,
not even a third
of an inch in diameter.
But this is not the
Rock Splitter's fruit.
Hidden inside each fig are
the tree's microscopic flowers.
The fig's outer skin grows
around the tiny florets,
which turn into sweet-tasting
pips as the figs mature.
These are the tree's
actual fruit.
A Layard's Warbler bounces
from one branch to another,
pecking at the tree's
ripe candied gifts.
These little birds are tough,
able to withstand Namaqualand's
sweltering extremes.
Wild figs are also the preferred
choice of food
for the Pied Barbet.
It swallows the tiny packets
of flowers whole.
A Dassie Rat,
also known as a Noki,
devours the Rock Splitter's
fallen figs.
The large boulders
close to the tree
are a popular feeding
ground for Noki.
The little fig connoisseur rubs
his chin on the rock's surface,
marking his turf
for the competition.
These rodents,
together with birds,
are nature's
unwitting gardeners.
They help distribute
the tree's seeds
by scattering them across
the mountain in their dropping.
But if the tree's flowers
are hidden from the world,
how does it produce
these seeds in the first place?
The Rock Splitter's tiny flowers
will only turn into fleshy pips
once they've been pollinated
by a partner
that's evolved exclusively
for this purpose:
the tree's own species
of fig wasp.
A female wasp,
already carrying pollen,
enters the fig through
an opening at its tip-
But the entrance is so small,
she loses her wings in the
struggle to squeeze through.
Once inside, she lays her eggs
in the flowers' ovules.
These turn into galls,
food rich pockets
in which the next generation
of wasps will hatch.
Several of the flowers
are pollinated in the process,
and these ones
will turn into seeds.
The Rock Splitter cannot produce
seeds without the wasps
pollinating its flowers-
and the wasps cannot breed
without the tree's figs-
the one depends on the other.
Other wasps also visit the figs.
But this wasp is not an ally.
The parasitic invader inserts
a long ovipositor
through the wall
of the fig and deposits
her egg on a developing
fig wasp larva.
The tiny parasitic grub
will kill the fig wasp grub
and take over its gall.
Hundreds of these intruders
violate the tree's bounty
and hinder the process
of pollination
by killing off the tree's
true pollinators.
But the Rock Splitter
has allies-
Insect-eating birds, like this
pair of Long-billed Crombecs.
They pluck wasps from
every nook and cranny.
The Crombec only weighs
half an ounce
But it can make
a heck of a racket.
It breaks off pieces of
the tree's silvery bark,
prying for spiders and beetles.
In February, Namaqualand's
summer heat becomes unbearable.
But some actually thrive
in temperatures
soaring at 113 degrees
Fahrenheit.
To soak up the sun,
a pint-sized dragon settles in
on the sunbaked boulders
close to the fig.
This Southern Rock Agama
declares his status to rivals
by positioning himself on the
highest spot in his territory.
But something catches his eye-
A younger male is also basking
underneath the Rock Splitter.
The older male doesn't like
competition hunting
and mating in his territory.
He tries to drive off
the youngster
with a couple of
intimidating pushups.
But the much smaller lizard
isn't a threat;
he's just hunting ants.
Then the dominant male spots
a second, much larger agama-
This adversary
must be challenged.
But this intruder doesn't want
to fight either
and scuttles off.
Hello- now a female agama
has wandered into his territory.
His throat and forelimbs
are a greenish-blue.
She has orange flanks,
scattered with red blotches.
This time, their pushup display
is not a deterrent;
it's a signal that both
are in the mood for love.
Male and female Rock Agamas
are polygamous,
and each will mate with several
members of the opposite sex
within their territory.
Crystals embedded in their skin
move to reflect light,
allowing them to change hue.
And the more the lizards flirt,
the brighter
their colors become.
But in the end- she moves on.
By March, the sun's
unforgiving gaze robs
the scorched land
of its last moisture.
But even in these
harsh conditions,
the Rock Splitter
harbors new life.
After two months,
red adult male fig wasps
are the first to emerge
from their galls.
They live for only a few hours.
A wingless male's sole
function in life
is to mate with
the black females.
Once they've mated
inside the fig,
he facilitates her escape
by chewing a hole
in the outer fig wall.
But before leaving, the female
actively collects pollen,
to carry to another tree's fig,
where she begins
to lay her eggs.
This intimate relationship
between all fig tree species
and their wasps has evolved
over millions of years.
Behind the Fig tree,
underneath a rock,
hangs another of
Namaqualand's wonders-
a peculiar ball of sand
dangling from a silk thread.
Similar baubles suspend
from almost every low-lying
overhang in the vicinity,
each about a third
of an inch in diameter.
Hidden inside the tiny sphere
is a spiral-shaped hideaway:
an intricate matrix of silk,
sand and pebbles.
The architects of these
strange structures
are safely tucked inside.
The elusive inhabitants
only come out at night.
A Bauble Spider.
This tiny male only
leaves his hideaway
in order to maintain it.
The claws next to his mouth,
his pedipalps, are black.
A female, with a slightly
concave, more elongated abdomen,
has smaller, lighter claws.
These spiders are tiny,
barely a tenth of an inch long,
each with their own bauble.
But this is not just their home;
they also use it to seize prey.
This hunting technique
has never been filmed before.
Each spider attaches
capture strands
from the bottom of the orb
to the coarse sand underneath-
it's a trap set for ants.
This worker manages
to avoid the fine strands.
But another wanderer stumbles
straight into the sticky snare.
As it struggles, the spider
senses the ant's vibrations,
and quickly drops down
to secure her prey.
She then hoists the ant up
to her lair, pebble and all-
where she covers
her quarry with silk.
The more the ant struggles,
the more entangled it becomes.
Each night, she catches
numerous wriggling victims.
And when the ants
finally stop squirming,
the Bauble Spider
devours her meal.
It's a highly effective
way to hunt-
one of many incredible survival
strategies in Namaqualand.
In April, rolling clouds from
the west are a promising sign.
They bring hope of autumn rain.
Namaqualand needs this moisture,
in order to stage its incredible
display of desert blooms-
- unlike anywhere else
in the world.
Meanwhile, on the Rock
Splitter's weathered boughs,
a colony of Pugnacious ants
is tickling small marks
on the fig's leaves.
These, almost invisible, yellow
patches, are in fact alive.
Hundreds of tiny parasitic bugs
known as scale insects,
latch onto the fig
to ingest its fluids.
As they feed, the Scales
excrete copious amounts
of undigested sugars
and water, called honeydew.
The ants milk their
generous benefactors
of this nutritious nectar
by stroking them,
greedily lapping up
the addictive syrup.
They eagerly defend
their honeydew suppliers
against predators like birds.
By May autumn is
drawing to a close.
April's showers never came.
The drought continues,
leaving the scorched plains
a barren wasteland.
But the Rock Splitter
doesn't waiver.
It pushes its roots deeper
through the rocks,
probing for any hint
of moisture hidden below.
In the valley below the Fig tree
there's nowhere to hide
from the relentless sun.
Springbok slump to the ground
to conserve their energy.
In the middle of the day
they chew their cud:
partly digested material
that they regurgitate-
and re-chew.
This allows the antelope
to extract virtually
all of the nutrients
from within their food,
so they don't have to graze
during the hottest
time of the day.
While the rest of the herd
conserves energy,
two young buck
burn up calories-
with some
testosterone-charged sparring.
May marks the start of the rut,
the Springbok breeding season.
Males establish territories,
and round up female herds
that enter these regions.
But in order to breed,
a male must defend his territory
against young bachelors
and neighboring rivals.
The stakes are high-
Their ringed,
15 inch horns
are effective weapons
that can cause
serious damage.
If the spikes become
locked during the fight,
it can result in the death of
one or both of the combatants.
These skirmishes are a right
of passage for the young males.
And very few end in bloodshed.
Underneath the tree's branches,
a Rounded Toktokkie,
part of the Darkling
beetle family,
feasts on bird droppings
He hears a tapping sound
on the rock and responds.
This is how these beetles
attract the opposite sex.
A male usually initiates
the tapping,
and waits for a response
from a receptive female.
But this is another male
calling;
females knock at
a different rhythm-
and so the Toktokkie moves on.
The Toktokkie is determined
to find a female.
Every now and then he knocks-
and listens for a response.
Finally- he finds one.
And she answers him.
Unfortunately,
females can be picky.
She moves on,
to seek other prospects.
At night, a full moon
illuminates the desert,
transforming it into
a shimmering wonderland.
A Quartz Gecko emerges to hunt
under the Rock Fig.
It doesn't have eyelids,
and cannot blink.
Instead transparent scales
cover his eyes, protecting them.
To maintain these spectacles,
the gecko uses his tongue
like a windscreen wiper.
He senses movement.
When you're only 2 inches long,
everything in this harsh world
is a potential threat.
Aptly named due to her marking,
this is a Beetz's Tiger snake.
It's time for the gecko
to hightail out of here.
With a forked tongue,
the snake tastes the air-
attempting to locate her prey.
Deciding it's wiser not to mov,
the gecko freezes
to avoid detection.
And the strategy works;
the Tiger slithers past.
The tiny gecko curls up
under a succulent-
where he falls asleep.
But there are many dangers
on the desert floor.
Like something crawling
out of a nightmare,
a hairy wanderer creeps
over the rocks behind the Fig.
With specialized hairs
on her legs,
sensitive to low frequency
air vibrations,
a Namaqua Baboon Spider
detects the sleeping gecko.
The spider seizes the squirming
lizard with her enormous fangs,
and holds fast.
Almost half an inch long,
these weapons can inflict
a considerable amount
of pain to humans,
and are fatal to
the spider's prey.
When the writhing stops,
she carries her dead quarry bak
to her home,
to consume her prize.
In June, a smoldering mass of
swirling fog obscures the sky.
The Rock Splitter stands firm,
anchored to the rocks as a cold
wind wails
through the mountain's
desolate crags,
snapping at all
with its frigid bite.
Namaqualand
dons its winter coat,
each hue darker
and richer than before.
In these dark months
of the wet season,
a thick dripping soup
swallows the mountains,
and smothers the land.
The white haze leaches
the desert's color,
turning everything to the same
stony grey as the rocks.
The silvery mist licks
at every surface,
until the world is covered
with a million drops of dew.
These sparkling beads of water
are what feed Namaqualand...
A bejeweled dusting of moisture
critical for survival
in this parched desert.
The brooding billows
become thicker- and heavier-
until their burden is
just too heavy to bear.
But as quickly as they arrive,
the clouds depart-
their shadows drifting away
over the mountains.
The rain wasn't nearly enough.
The drought still keeps
a firm grip on the land.
The teeth of winter shatter,
and the kiss of
a new season approaches.
By August, the first of
Namaqualand's seedlings peek
out from under
their crusty blanket.
It's the beginning
of a new cycle of life-
a time of color.
In the valley at the base
of the Rock Splitter's slope,
holes riddle the ground.
Their occupants-
Thread-Waisted Digger Wasps.
In a buzz of activity,
the females excavate burrows
in the sandy soil.
Underground, the wasp bites
at the earth to loosen it-
then she gathers it up
into a ball
and carries it out of the burrow
with the rakes
on her front legs.
She's digging this nest
for an unwilling guest-
a caterpillar...
who will harbor her egg.
That's if another female
doesn't steal her quarry.
Each female needs a caterpillar-
So these fights are brutal.
The winner will take
her prize underground,
then lays an egg
on her paralyzed tenant.
When the wasp larva
hatches two days later,
it will eat the caterpillar.
Once she's dragged her
prisoner underground,
the wasp seals
the hole with a pebble.
She then buries the rock,
disguising it,
so that other females
won't steal her bounty
and replace her egg
with their own.
Sometimes she hides it
a bit too well.
Spring rides in on
a gentle September breeze,
breathing warmth back
into the desert.
Petals begin to unfurl.
At last Namaqualand is painted
in bursts of blinding color
as more than 3,000
species of plant bloom.
Blossoming succulents
adorn the land,
their bright, fuchsia blush
a sight to behold.
The dazzling tapestry of colors
and sweet perfumes bewitches an
array of strange fluffy bees-
the blooms' pollinators.
Bright, multicolored
beetles gorge
on the vast menu
of Namaqua daisies.
Even the Toktokkie
gets in on the action.
He bites off the flower's
head at its stem,
and gobbles it up.
The fresh, sweetly scented feast
is a welcome treat
from his usual dreary
fare of dead plant
and animal matter.
But it's not just insects
that reap Namaqualand's
vibrant springtime rewards.
The herd of Gemsbok descends the
jagged slopes
to graze in the flower fields.
Since last summer,
the younger antelope
ave grown to magnificent adults.
Once the males come of age,
they leave the herd,
and head off to establish
their own territory.
But this year
Namaqualand held back
most of its
multicolored splendor.
Less than half the typical
annual rainfall
fell in this region.
The mere 2 inches
were too little, too late.
With no April showers,
vast stretches of land
remain without flowers.
The Rock Splitter
is an exception.
In spring, the fig tree
begins to sprout new shoots.
Tender leaves rejuvenate
its sun-bleached branches.
And with them,
fresh clusters of figs emerge.
A Karoo Prinia sings from
amongst the burgeoning foliage.
During breeding season
the little bird
and its mate
are much more vocal.
They gather soft tufts of plant
down to build their nest,
a pear-shaped pod, hidden in
a daisy bush close to the Fig.
The productive little homemaker
can weave this comfy abode
in as little as four days.
Back in the fig tree
there's another nest-
with two tiny speckled eggs.
This bag-like cup,
made from stringy plant fibers,
belongs to the Crombecs.
The couple takes turns
to incubate the eggs,
keeping an eye on each other
from the top of the fig tree.
When one gets hungry,
the other takes over.
Behind the Fig, the Toktokkie
is still scouting for a mate.
He knocks to check-
who's out there?
And once again,
a female answers.
They signal back and forth,
until his curiosity
gets the better of him
and he finds her.
He tackles her to the ground,
and clings to her with his leg.
A hook at the end of his organ
helps him to gain access.
With this same spine
he injects a pocket of sperm,
called a spermatophore,
into her sperm purse.
But she doesn't like
this position-
and he must come along
for the ride.
To keep her calm,
he gently strokes the female
with his antennae.
But this will be
his last joyride.
A few days after mating,
he will die.
Tonight, the crescent moon
hangs like a hunter's horn
in the heavens' darkened abyss.
The only light-
a billion sparkling diamonds
in a sky black as coal.
These warm October evenings
beckon Namaqualand's
night stalkers.
Amongst them, a Bibron's Gecko
hunts for insects-
but wanders into an ambush.
The Many-Horned Adder pierces
the gecko with his fangs,
injecting cytotoxic venom
into his victim,
dissolving it from within.
Like a demon
possessing it's body,
the toxins bleed into
the Gecko's nervous system
causing its last death throes.
With its hunger sated,
the Adder won't have to eat
for at least a week.
The Rock Splitter bears witness
to the birth
of a new generation
of Crombec chicks.
Their parents provide a steady
supply of termites, larvae
and insect eggs
to the growing youngsters.
In the valley below the Fig,
one of its own saplings
has anchored itself
into the boulders.
With less rain
falling each year,
the young tree's future
is unknown.
But hopefully it will join
the cast of Namaqualand's
great survivors.
As temperatures continue to rise
and drought grips Namaqualand,
the Rock Fig thrusts even deeper
into the earth
to search for water.
Its ability to break boulders
gives it a winning edge
against the harsh environment.
Nothing can stand
in the Rock Splitter's way.
(♪♪♪)
