#and we are squeezing large amounts of lives out of the ether via some pretty creepy practices on one end and shoving lives of the same kind

[weaselle]

i think a very telling point about modern western society is

we have an industry that people pay to spread poison and torture devices around to kill mice and cockroaches and rats and snakes and things and we also have an industry that people pay to breed and sell mice and cockroaches and rats and snakes and things

and you will find both of these businesses in the same town

[junker-town]

How sports is Seven Worlds, One Planet: Episode 5?

Alfred Trunk/McPhoto/ullstein bild via Getty Images

David Attenborough’s new show is epic ... and sports.

We continue our extremely important mission to conduct a scene-by-scene review of the BBC’s new nature documentary, Seven Worlds, One Planet, in order to see how sports it is. We determined that Episode 1, which focused on Antarctica, was reasonably sports. Asia was very sports, as was South America. Australia was more drinking than sports, but that’s OK. Now it’s time for ...

Episode 5 Europe

Let’s start with a prologue: there are really only six continents, and Europe’s not one of them. I’m sorry, it just isn’t. Every other continent is separated from its neighbour by something sensible — an isthmus, perhaps, or a whole-ass ocean in the case of Australia. Europe is just a chunk of Eurasia that thinks it’s cool. You’re never going to convince me that the Ural Mountains are a sensible continental boundary. Europe’s a big, smug, densely-populated peninsula and that is all.

There is still some cool stuff going on there though.

Scene 1: Attempted Urfanticide

Europe used to be dominated by an enormous forest. Almost all of it is gone. Such progress! But some remains and in Finland there’s enough to support a small (1,500) population of brown bears. Some members of that population are adorable:

This scene isn’t all frolicking baby bears, however. Where there are bear cubs, there are also bear mothers, and where there are bear mothers there are hopeful bear-fathers in pursuit. Bear, as you may know, share an unfortunate habit with many large carnivores: if they can, big males will kill infants which they haven’t fathered.

So when a big male shows up, the cubs play it safe and scamper up a tree, while the mother responds to his catcalls by telling him to leave her family the hell alone. (I don’t speak bear, but the context makes things clear.)

The cubs then proceed to play it somewhat less than safe, coming down while the male is still in sight. They’re in mortal danger, so the mother goes full on Bear Mama and runs the male off into the woods. Good parenting. Bad childrening.

Aesthetics 9/10

I just want to squeeze their little bear cub cheeks, although, since their mother could tear me in half without trying, I would probably have to be quite drunk to actually attempt this.

Difficulty 8/10

Bear cubs are surprisingly good climbers. Conifers have straight, overly-disciplined trunks, and are therefore much harder to climb than most large deciduous trees, which are more sprawling and inviting. And yet the little dudes zip straight up them.

Competitiveness 10/10

Male brown bears average almost 500 pounds. Female brown bears are closer to 350. That’s one brave charge.

Overall 27/30

Most parenting is not a sport. Bear parenting is a sport.

Scene 2: The Hair-Cows

When my three-year-old saw this scene, he decided he was watching “hair-cows”, which is at least as good a name as “musk ox”. (He also claimed he wanted to eat “hair-cow nuggets” for dinner, a worryingly predatory request.) Hair-cows are, true to their name, very hairy cows that live up in the tundra.

The tundra is not a very nice place to live. It’s cold, there’s basically no vegetation to break up the wind, and although it’s majestic in a desolate sort of way, I don’t think I’d be able to appreciate it on account of not being able to feel my legs. The hair-cows’ shaggy coats help them stay warm in this barren environment. Their huge horns help with ... other stuff.

Hair-cow herds are run by a bull, who controls mating rights for the whole group. A bull who doesn’t run a herd essentially has to go off and live on his own, which makes them pretty enthusiastic to upgrade their living situation. And that’s where the horns come in.

When a lone male meets a herd whose leader he thinks he can handle, this happens:

Still not as bad as the hangover from last week #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/IIwSbmrU4I

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 24, 2019

Let’s review the numbers. Quoting from Wikipedia, hair-cows:

can reach speeds of up to 60 km/h (37 mph).

on average, weigh 285 kilograms (630 pounds) and range from 180 to 410 kilograms (400 to 900 pounds).

Big bulls at the top of their game will therefore weigh close to 900 pounds and charge at each other significantly faster than, say, Usian Bolt. They also have four-inch think skulls to protect each other from a battering. Well-matched males can end up charging and gouging for some time, and if the fight goes on long enough we start to get head-to-flank goring action. Which just seems unpleasant, really.

Anyway, this is a long and drawn-out hair-cow fight. Good stuff.

Aesthetics 6/10

Hair-cows aren’t the world’s most attractive creatures, but at least they have style. Demerits on account of male hair-cows smelling like they’ve coated themselves in urine, because that is in fact what they have done: “The odor of dominant rutting males is ‘strong’ and ‘rank’. It derives from the preputial gland and is distributed over the fur of the abdomen via urine.”

Cool.

Difficulty 10/10

Taking a single head-on hit from a hair-cow would send your corporeal self into next week and probably eliminate your soul altogether.

Competitiveness 10/10

This is a great fight. It’s long, hard-fought, and there are enough twists and turns to keep things interesting. Well done, hair-cows.

Overall 26/30

Definitely a sport.

Scene 3: Wolves

You don’t really expect to find wolves roaming around Europe. Well, that’s not exactly true: I played last year’s Assassin’s Creed, so I expect to find a pack of wolves roughly every four yards, including in major cities. But in real life, finding a pack of wolves on the edge of an Italian village would come as something of a surprise.

Not that you’re likely to find these wolves. They’re so elusive that the Seven Worlds team had to film them all through thermal cameras, which gives this whole scene an ethereal look:

Sirius Black? Is that you? #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/DZvtQTW8Xg

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 24, 2019

It’s mid-winter and the wolves are hungry, so they’re attempting to ambush a herd of red deer in the darkness. Their first attempt fails thanks to a combination of being too noisy and having their hunt disrupted by a passing car. Humans!

Their second is better planned out, and they manage to isolate one of the deer and herd it down the mountain. As it tries to escape, it slips on an icy road (humans!) and the hungry pack manage to bring it down.

Unfortunately, the hunt has been watched by the village sheepdogs, who flood out to chase off the wolves and claim the kill as their own. Poor wolves.

Aesthetics 7/10

The night vision gives this an air of fantasy, which is nice because one gets the feeling that these wolves would be somewhat bedraggled had they been caught on normal cameras.

Difficulty 8/10

Hunting down deer in what amounts to pitch blackness sounds very difficult indeed.

Competitiveness 8/10

The deer give the wolves a seriously hard time, and the emergence of a third party right at the end is a clever twist.

Overall 25/30

Extended hunts are almost always sports.

Scene 4: Monkeys

The presence of Barbary macaques in Gibraltar is a reminder of the planet’s habit of undergoing massive changes over relatively short timescales. There are no monkeys in Europe except these ones, and they’re here because around five million years ago, the Strait of Gibraltar was closed, and north African animals had free rein to wander over to the Iberian peninsula.

Then came the Zanclean Deluge. With the Straits closed, the Mediterranean had no access to the Atlantic and slowly evaporated. And when they re-opened, the Mediterranean re-filled in about two years, powered by what was probably the biggest waterfall the planet has ever seen. This has very little to do with the monkeys. I just think it’s interesting.

Gibraltar, right on the southern tip of the continent, is home to Europe’s only monkeys. #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/GMnBIod7Eq

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 24, 2019

Anyway, Barbary macaques spread across southern Europe, but eventually (I assume because of the Ice Age, etc.) they collapsed back into a small population at the Rock of Gibraltar. Around 300 monkeys still live there. Some of those monkeys, incidentally, have a thing for kidnapping.

A low-status female monkey (these macaques live in tiered social groups) has just had a baby, and a higher-ranking female is jealous of her. So she steals the baby and runs away. The mother is so low-ranking that she can’t approach the other monkey for fear of the rest of the troop ganging up on her.

High monkey drama ensues as the kidnapper — who clearly has no idea what she’s doing with a baby — makes her escape, climbing a cable car tower with a tiny little monkey dangling off her. Eventually the mother catches up with the baby-thief, but the gang is more than 100 feet above the ground, and any wrong move might lead to a fall and certain death ...

... so naturally, the situation is resolved by grooming. Mama monkey finds a random monkey to groom within sight of the kidnapper, who gets so jealous that she gives the baby back in exchange for a change to get in on the action.

Most of this was some action movie stuff, but the end might be difficult to translate. I’m trying to imagine Liam Neeson rasping into his phone about his “particular set of skills,” only for them to turn out to be removing parasites from the other person’s hair with his teeth.

It’d be weird, but you’d watch it.

Aesthetics 7/10

Monkeys just aren’t that cute, even baby monkeys. The tension, fortunately, is accentuated by the impressive cinematography.

Difficulty 10/10

As a parent I have found it is more or less impossible to do anything with a baby, so climbing a cable car tower while fleeing the scene of a crime, baby in tow, is impressive work. Not morally impressive, mind.

Competitiveness 10/10

The ending doesn’t take anything away from the stakes.

Overall 27/30

Kidnapping monkey babies is sports. But please do not attempt this particular sport, at home or anywhere else.

Scene 5: Grave-Robbing Hamster Battle

This is it. This is what we’ve all been waiting for. The culmination of Sir David Attenborough’s long and storied career lies here, in a Viennese graveyard, where hamsters lie in wait to feast upon the offerings left for the dead ...

... it turns out that European hamsters love flowers. LOVE them. And, as graveyards have plenty of fresh flowers for them to munch through, that makes them prime hamster territory. Prime territory, of course, does not go uncontested. And while hamsters are cute and adorable, they’re also ferocious little balls of anger when roused. Observe:

Thug life. #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/ePaxjj8Ybd

— BBC One (@BBCOne) November 24, 2019

Thwarted by the martial skills of the home hamster, the challenger has to sneak in while they’re distracted. And here, they’re more successful, creeping merrily over a tombstone and then munching happily on a bouquet before being enticed by a nice, uh, candle.

Attenborough claims that candles are full of oil and high in calories and therefore excellent hamster food, so I’ll take his word for it. The hamster certainly agrees, stuffing their face with as much wax as they can fit into their squishy little cheeks, which turns out to be a lot of wax: European hamsters can apparently fit about a quarter of their body-weight in their cheek pouches.

And now I should mention that this candle is in a jar with a slightly-tapered mouth and ... oh no.

Hello darkness, my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again #SevenWorldsOnePlanet #wevealldoneit #chonkyboi pic.twitter.com/TDhY1YEpBd

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 24, 2019

My only regret is that Edgar Allen Poe never found out about this.

Aesthetics 30/10

COME TO ME, MY GRAVE-ROBBING HAMSTER FRIENDS. TOGETHER WE SHALL RULE THIS DISMAL PLANET.

Difficulty 10/10

WE SHALL RULE IT IN THE NAME OF PEACE.

Competitiveness 10/10

AND JUSTICE. AND COMPASSION.

Overall 50/30

AND DELICIOUS, DELICIOUS CANDLES. IT WILL BE A BETTER PLACE. ONE FULL OF HAMSTERS, WHICH ARE SPORTS.

Scene 6: Mayflies

In June, the largest of all mayflies emerge from a Hungarian river. They’ve spent three years as larvae preparing for just a few hours of adult life. The males come first, flapping to the banks to get one last molt in, and then fly back to the river to catch the females, emerging later.

There’s a terrifying amount of competition to fertilise female mayflies, accentuated by the fact the male mayflies are literally dying as they scramble to find a mate. The females have timed their emergence to within a few minutes of the males’ death, and as their corpses float past they then fly up-river, 10 million-strong. Then they die too, releasing their eggs upon impact.

Houston, that’s a lot of bugs. #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/zp5GddXM2B

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 24, 2019

Within hours of the mayflies emergence into the European summer, they’re all dead. This is the most metaphorical metaphor that has ever metaphored.

Aesthetics 3/10

After three years of feeding and growing on the riverbed, the male mayflies appear first.#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/V3bOFAv3R1

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 24, 2019

No.

Difficulty 8/10

It must be hard to try to be at the top of your game when you’re literally on the verge of death, especially in the middle of a mayfly melee.

Competitiveness 10/10

An entire generation of male mayflies fighting it out at the same time? Yeah, this is getting high marks.

Overall 21/30

Probably a sport.

Scene 7: Asshole Pelicans

Great white pelicans breed on the delta of the Danube river, one of the richest in the world. There are two things you should know about great white pelicans. The first is that they are huge. And I mean really, really huge: their wingspan can get to well over 10 feet and they can weigh as much as 30 pounds. The second thing you should know is that they’re assholes.

Flying above the delta, the pelican flock scans for food, using other birds for help

Cormorants: Come over. Pelicans: Can’t. Busy. Cormorants: We are eating delicious fish. Pelicans:

The real question here...are you a pelican? Or a pelican’t?#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/YRaphn3WUY

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 24, 2019

Do the pelicans go fishing once the cormorants have done the hard work of finding their prey? No. That’s not assholish enough for a great white pelican, and is also far too much work. Instead, they wait for the cormorants to do the fishing and then do whatever the hell this is:

K...O#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/48F9A4UDOM

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 24, 2019

The bullied cormorants quite naturally give up their spoils upon being engulfed by these horrible huge pirates. Imagine what it must be like having your head wrapped up in a penguin pouch. It’d like someone jamming your face into a yellow latex glove, and I’d rather get actually mugged.

Aesthetics 10/10

This scene is beautifully shot. All non-raptorial birds look better in large numbers, and the coordinated flight of the pelicans is gorgeous.

Difficulty 7/10

All these pelicans have to do is find and harass the people doing the real work, then enjoy their rewards. They’d do very well in the modern office. The cormorants, on the other hand, have to go fishing while being mugged by assholes, which sounds pretty difficult to me.

Competitiveness 5/10

Pick on someone your own size, pelicans.

Overall 22/30

Fishing is a sport. Piracy ... is also a sport?

Scene 8: The Offspring of the Cave Dragon

The face of Europe has been scoured by humans, turned from forests to homes and farms and roads and etc.. Under the skin, however, is a different story. Mankind’s reach doesn’t extend very effectually into caves, and nor does the sun’s, which leads to some very weird critters.

Olms, so far as I can tell, are the European equivalent of the American axolotl: blind albino cave salamanders which stay in larval form their whole lives. Unlike the axolotl, which is sort of cute, olms are very not:

Olms have feathery gills which enable them to breathe underwater, as well as on land.#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/W75pHQ8gpS

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 24, 2019

Here be dragons Well...baby ones at least.#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/MjdCQcDmxM

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 24, 2019

What they lack in cuteness they make up for in looking-like-an-eel-ness? Their weird looks and hermetic life led locals to believe that they were somehow related to more mythical beasts: 17th-century naturalist Johann Weikhard von Valvasor, upon handling an olm body, claimed that they were “baby dragons” which “resembled lizards.”

Fair enough, Johann.

Aesthetics 4/10

Weird-looking critters. Even the bonus point for being mistaken for baby dragons doesn’t net the olm very much.

Difficulty 10/10

Olms live in pitch blackness and only get a meal about once every 10 years. Even ignoring hunger, that environment would quickly reduce even the most hardened human into a gibbering wreck.

Competitiveness 0/10

Nothing happens.

Overall 14/30

Sorry, Johann, but olms aren’t sports.

Scene 9: Lynx

10/10 on the graceful fence leap, extra points for epicness.#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/rkwRWiDxZN

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 24, 2019

It is hard to be an Iberian lynx. Nearly extinct, and hemmed in on all sides by human development, their population was at one point reduced to double-figures. Their final fastness is in southern Spain, where conservation efforts are going reasonably well. We are introduced to a lynx patriarch, who has helped preserve his species by fathering ... wait ARE WE GOING TO GET KITTENS?

And the award for cutest cat family goes to…#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/cfqvVJl0Qf

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 24, 2019

KITTENS! Anyway Iberian lynxes are doing better these days, but still not well at all. Europe has been so over-developed that there’s no room for wild animals to co-exist along with humans, and so, like the lynx, large animals everywhere are under threat. Unless people make a concentrated effort to be much better neighbours, the lynx, and many other critters, won’t last long.

Aesthetics 10/10

KITTENS!

Difficulty 7/10

Imagine living your days in existential dread, suspecting that you might be close to the end of the line for your whole species. Couldn’t relate.

Good jump though.

Competition 0/10

Nothing happens.

Overall 17/30

Probably not sports, although I could be tempted to change my mind for reasons entirely related to KITTENS!