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But these waterways are not a reliable means of getting around. The creeks consist partly of sea water, so they're under the influence of the tides. The mangroves' roots anchor the trees against the tidal pull. It's a constantly changing environment. But some animals are adapted to exploit it. Strange creatures emerge from the burrows, where they've sheltered from the strong tidal currents. Mudskippers are fish with specially adapted fins enabling them to walk.
They feed on detritus left behind by the falling waters. Fish need water to breathe, so the mudskippers carry a constant supply in special gill pouches, which they have to top up from time to time. Mudskippers are not the only animals to take advantage of the mudflat buffet. Fiddler crabs sift food particles from the mud, leaving behind neat balls of leftovers. The male crabs have one huge claw to impress females and see off other males. Mud skippers try the same trick with their brightly colored fins. But sometimes intimidation is not enough to scare off rivals. But the mud skippers lack the weaponry
to do each other much damage. And besides, disputes can never last very long. With every rising tide, the mud skippers are obliged to return to their burrows or being swept away. The Sundarbans stretches along the coastline of Bangladesh and India. It's by far the largest mangrove forest on Earth. Six times the size of greater London. Mangroves with their bizarre aerial roots are the only trees that can cope with the salty water-logged conditions. There are over 30 species of mangrove in the Sundarbans and the biggest rely on one tiny animal to survive.
Giant Asian honey bees feed on the nectar of the mangrove flowers and in the process pollinate them. These are the biggest honey bees in the world and also the most aggressive. They will defend their enormous hive to the death against any threat. But the precious honey in those hives is exactly what the boatmen are after. These men have pushed deep into the maze of over 400 waterways that crisscross the forest. They spread out to search, calling to keep in touch.
Many people have been killed by swarms of these bees. 10 m is the closest a man can safely approach. The threatened bees are primed to attack. But the honey collectors know the in their armor. When the bees smell smoke, they instinctively behave as if the forest is on fire. As far as they're concerned, the hive is doomed to burn and there's no point in trying to protect it. With the bees no longer aggressive, the men can go about their work. A good hive can contain up to 20 kilos of honey. This is liquid gold for these men, but even though they are poor, they choose not to take the whole hive.
Wise collectors know that if there is to be honey here in years to come, they should leave a section of the hive behind so the bees don't have to rebuild from scratch. The honey will fetch a high price, but many men pay an even higher price for collecting it. It's not swarms of bees that make this one of the most dangerous jobs in the world. The trails are crisscrossed with the tracks of the forest's most infamous residents. Tigers roam the Sunderbans, and they have a well-earned reputation for attacking people.
Honey collectors are especially at risk because tigers rest in the dense vegetation where the beehives are also found. Tigers kill up to 100 people every year in this forest. Nobody knows why so many people are killed here. The tigers are hardly ever seen. The deserts of western India may seem an unpromising start for a river. Yet, this is where the Chambal is born. Fed by underground springs, the river flows through some of India's most arid lands before reaching the plains. Though some people do scratch a living here, the Chambal remains a wildlife oasis for the natural treasures
once found right along the Ganges. Some migrant birds, such as bar-headed geese and brahminy ducks, fly all the way across the Himalaya to overwinter here in the desert sun. Others, like spoonbills, take up permanent residence. Indian skimmers are also seen here all year round, fishing the well-stocked river. This is one of only a few places where these graceful birds still patrol the waters, trawling for fish with their outsized lower bill.
Human influence on the Chambal is steadily increasing, but today, the river still harks back to a time when just a few early settlers shared the Ganges with their natural neighbors. As farming flourished, the people began to worship the miraculous life-giving powers of the Ganges. The seeds of a new religion was sown. People revered the natural forces and crops upon which they depended. And one plant was considered more important than all the others. Rice. Perfectly adapted to grow in the Ganges flood cycle, it's been the staple food for 7,000 years. Today, paddy fields dominate the landscape, and so much rice is grown here that the area has become known as the rice bowl of India.
The rise of farming didn't only change the landscape, it also offered a home to new creatures. The people of the Ganges have long kept all sorts of domestic animals and put them to use in ingenious ways. Duck herding is an ancient and lucrative occupation. So many ducks lay a lot of eggs, and the herders are also paid to graze their flocks on the paddy fields. As the ducks feed, they clear the weeds from the inundated fields, and their droppings add extra dollops of organic fertilizer. Yet, it isn't just domestic animals that are welcome on the cultivated land.
The wetlands around the paddy fields make an ideal home for all sorts of wild birds. And one visitor to these fields is honored as a bearer of good fortune. Standing as high as a man, the Sarus crane is the tallest flying bird in the world. These magnificent birds pair for life and their faithful nature has led them to be venerated as symbols of marital bliss. To help strengthen their partnerships, the cranes perform elegant courtship dances. Although some animals thrived in the changing landscape, many were not so well adapted to survive the rise of agriculture, and not all made such amenable neighbors. world is the growing presence of Ganga,
the river goddess. With each passing day, the spring meltwater surges down towards the plains. In the lower reaches of the mountain rivers, Himalayan mahseer are gathering. The world's largest carp, these powerful fish cruise the rivers with the seasons, migrating between spawning grounds in mountain torrents and these more placid lowland waters. But today, these are perilous journeys as poaching takes a heavy toll on their numbers. One of the few sanctuaries now left to them are the ceremonial steps or ghats at riverside temples. Here, they grow huge on handouts from priests and worshipers.
The largest might be a meter long and weigh over 50 kilos. But in these increasingly crowded valleys, they have to share these sacred waters as the tributaries of the Ganges are having ever greater demands placed upon them. Villagers use every stream pouring down from the mountains to irrigate tier upon tier of terraces carved into the precipitous slopes. Winter sown crops like barley and millet quickly ripen in the strong sun. And come May, it's not just the villagers reaping the benefits.
Even as the crops are being cut, troops of macaques are waiting in the wings ready to mop up any overlooked ears and seeds. Despite appearances, time is of the essence. Almost as soon as the crop has been gathered, these tiny fields are plowed, then flooded and planted with rice to be harvested in the autumn. This intensive farming is only possible because of the huge quantities of meltwater flooding down from the peaks. This predictable and plentiful supply of water, the rivers that meet here are known only by their local names, the Alaknanda and the Bhagirathi.
But downstream from this promontory, the larger river is officially called the Ganga for the first time. The river may have reached the gentler foothills, but there's life in her yet. This region is known as the Shivalik Hills. These are the ancient remnants of mountains much older than the Himalaya. Rock the powerful Ganges has been wearing down for millions of years. Now the river's character begins to change. The rapids become separated by increasingly longer stretches of deeper, more placid water.
The first large towns begin to appear on her banks. The 120-m long Lakshman Jhula footbridge spans the Ganges at the town of Rishikesh. Every day thousands pass back and forth going about their daily business. Although not everyone uses the more conventional route. The chaos of the bridge is ripe for exploitation and the resident macaques know just how to work it to their advantage. and there's nothing subtle about their tactics. If begging doesn't work, direct action usually does.
They may not have the same protection of more sacred animals, but Hinduism has a fundamental respect for all life and so they are tolerated. Their antics just an accepted, if annoying, part of everyday life around the town. The Rishikesh macaques span two worlds with one foot in the Shivalik forests and the other in the urban jungle.
