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NATURE goes behind the scenes of Silence of the Bees with an interview with producer Doug Shultz.

What is the story you tell in Silence of the Bees?

The film actually encompasses three parallel stories. The first is the overall mystery of why the bees are disappearing, and the scientific investigations that are under way to try to understand this. The second is the surprising reliance that we have on this completely unnatural system of trucking bees around the country to pollinate our crops. This is something that I think has taken everyone by surprise. Third, maybe most fascinating of all, is the story of the honeybee itself. To understand the magnitude of the problem and what we’re losing, it’s important to appreciate how extraordinary these animals are, and the value of what they contribute to the planet. And to our plates!

Theories about the cause of CCD changed and expanded while you were in production and they continue to evolve now. How did that create challenges in the filmmaking process?

From the beginning we knew we were along for an uncertain ride — would we have an answer by the time production wrapped? But it was such a great detective story that we just stayed on top of the latest developments and maintained contact with all the key players to find out which theories they had crossed off the list and which they were still exploring. The biggest challenge, actually, was the research embargo. We knew our scientists had found something, but they couldn’t tell us what it was until the research was published. We were nearly finished with our edit by the time they were allowed to talk. So much of the time we were planning shoots based on our own hypotheses of what was going on.

Filmmaker Doug Shultz

Bee population decline has been recorded all over the world. How did you select the locations where you shot and the stories that you told in the program?

It’s true that bee populations are declining nearly everywhere, and not just from CCD. So we tried to target locations that served a purpose in the overall story. France stood in as a case study for pesticide use and its effects on bees. They have had some very intense clashes over this issue, and in fact have banned chemicals that we now use in the United States. We went to Spain because they have the highest number of commercial beekeepers in Europe, and last year they suffered massive bee losses. England was an example of controversy, where beekeepers claim they’ve lost up to two thirds of their bees, but the government still insists they don’t have a problem. We also went to China because in the south, there’s a region that sort of stands as a grim omen of what a world without bees could be like.

What are some of the practical and technical challenges of filming bees versus getting footage of larger animals?

Well, they sting. But the main thing is that they are very small and very fast. So because you’re focused on such a small area, you don’t have much latitude to move with them. It requires a great deal of patience. You set up your shot over a flower, for example, and you hope that eventually a bee will stop by and will stay within your focal range for a reasonable amount of time. When you’re shooting inside the hive, you really can only shoot for a short amount of time, because once the bees are stirred up, there’s really no calming them down. Bees also flap their wings at a speed faster than the known laws of physics can explain. We used the new Phantom HD high-speed camera to capture this at up to 1,500 frames per second.

What went into getting shots inside the hive?

The hive is really like one big organism, and we poked and prodded into it with a variety of borescopes and macroscopic lenses. The real challenge is that many of the most interesting behaviors happen on such a small scale that they can be incredibly difficult to capture. Olympus America generously brought out a new HD endoscopic camera normally used for examining the inside of a human esophagus — they wheeled it right out into a pumpkin patch in Pennsylvania for us and we stuck it in a hive. We also had the help of several very knowledgeable and patient beekeepers who were able to quickly find certain behaviors in the hives.

When shooting the hive scenes, your on-camera experts are all in protective gear and masks. Did the crew wear something too? Did people get stung?

We all wore bee suits, and learned very quickly to make sure we were completely zipped up. On our first shoot in Maine, it was pretty chilly, and the bees were looking for some warmth…inside our suits. We all got stung. The bees even attacked the windjammer on the mic because they thought it was a bear. Spanish bees are particularly aggressive, and in Andalucia we were wearing extremely thick, double-layered bee suits in 110-degree weather. No one got stung, but I think we all lost weight.

Once we became accustomed to being around the bees, we let our guard down a bit. I got stung again a few times in France and ended up with a temporarily deformed head. But we all still love bees.

For this production, did you put yourself through some kind of “Bee Boot Camp” to become familiar with the natural history of bees?

I started by reading as much as I could about honeybees and beekeeping in general, and there was much more to learn than I had anticipated. Bees and bee societies are incredibly complex. In the case of this film, all that information was just base knowledge, because the film was an investigation into CCD, not just the natural history of the bee. The real boot camp came on our first shoot with commercial beekeepers, actually seeing how the whole business works.

David Hackenberg unloading his beehives in Maine for blueberry pollination.

Do you have a favorite sequence in the film?

That’s tough, but I really like the scenes in Maine, where they’re distributing the hives in the blueberry fields, dealing with bear damage, etc. Every time people see this, they are blown away because very few people know this goes on. I also like the China sequence because what’s happening there is pretty hard to believe as well.

Did something end up on the “cutting room floor” that you wish made it into the film?

I wish we had more time in the film to spend with all the different beekeepers. They’re a special breed of people and their enthusiasm for the bees is infectious — by the end, we were all considering starting hives, ourselves. Unfortunately, because of the amount of information we had to wrangle into an hour-long film, many of these characters had to be cut for time.

What appealed to you about working for NATURE?

Well, I’ve always been a fan of NATURE, and as far as natural history programming goes, they are the best. This is something a little different for NATURE because it incorporates natural history into a more investigative, topical story. It was an appealing challenge to find a way to make that work, both thematically and stylistically.

Is there anything else you would like to add?

I think it’s important to note that the CCD scare has brought some overdue attention to the importance of bees, but bees and other pollinating animals have been disappearing for at least 20 or 30 years. This is just the latest example of a worldwide crisis that until now really hasn’t received the kind of attention that something like global warming gets. But pollinator decline is just as important — and just as worrisome.

To watch an interview with Doug on the The Alcove with Mark Molaro, click here.

Lynne Richardson and her husband, Philip Richardson, directed and produced Drakensberg: Barrier of Spears. NATURE spoke with them in January 2009 about the making of the film.

Q: You produced Murder in the Troop, which was broadcast on NATURE in 2006. What are some other film projects you’ve worked on since then?

A: One of our more recent films was Walking with Lions which was about us following a pride of lions whose territory was focused around a spring along the escarpment of the Zambezi valley.  Here the terrain was so rugged that we were forced to follow the lions on foot.

Our last film was about Namaqualand, about how in spring the desert along the southwest coast of Africa transforms to produce the most spectacular flower show on earth.  But the spring is short-lived and soon the rains dry up and temperatures soar to over 115 degrees F.   As the land dries out and the plants wither and produce seeds we look at the adaptations of the various birds, mammals, insects and reptiles to surviving in this boom or bust environment.

How did you become interested in the Drakensberg as a potential subject for a film?

The Drakensberg is possibly the single most dominant geographical feature of southern Africa and so it is a must do film if one lives here.   Furthermore it is a most unusual mountain range, sub-tropical at the bottom, alpine at the top, steep gorges and buttresses on one side, and flat-topped on the other.

The mountain range is a setting that seems to carry its history with it — from the ruts carved into the rock by ancient migratory paths to the rock art on cliff walls. What impression did these markings from the past leave on you?

When you climb this mountain you very quickly realize how small you are — both in time and space.  Everything here is so huge and ancient.  The animals and the people have been living here for millennia, so although one feels totally insignificant here, you also feel hugely privileged to be able to glance back in time and see the markings of history before your eyes.

Did the focus of the film change as the project evolved?

We spent a lot of time researching the film, so by the time we began shooting we had a pretty good idea of what we wanted to film.  Nevertheless, when you really start to live and feel the mountain, one’s perspective changes from being largely academic to being much more intimate.

How long and how often did you spend time in the field? What were conditions like?

We spent periods varying from about a month to a minimum of a week in the field.  We had a base camp at Giant’s Castle Nature Reserve, and here we were very fortunate to have the permanent use of a small thatch “bunk house” built next to some unused stables.  So here we were pretty comfortable and had electricity and mobile phone reception for emails, etc.   However, whenever we left camp for periods of a day or more, we could very quickly become vulnerable to the sudden changes of the weather.  The Drakensberg is renowned for its very changeable weather and it can snow any month of the year.   In summer one gets very heavy mists, it often rains for days on end, and in winter it can obviously get very cold.  So when you go out you have to be prepared for anything.

We went on a hiking trip about once every six weeks and this would last from about three to six days.   On the long trips, like when we camped above the Tugela Falls, or below the bearded vulture ossery, a field assistant went down once or twice to fetch extra provisions.

Could you tell us about some of the equipment you carried with you?

When operating out of Giant’s Castle on a daily basis, we were normally a team of two or three persons, carrying the camera with lens, the tripod and fluid head, and backpacks with long lenses, a matte box, filters, spare tapes, batteries, food, water, some warm clothes and sometimes extra sound recording gear as well.

On our camping trips we needed a team of at least four people.  Now we carried all of the above plus obviously a minimum amount of camping equipment but still sufficient to withstand freezing cold and very high winds.  This very quickly added up and we generally found ourselves carrying over 20 kg (about 44 lbs) per person.  On a trip to the top of the escarpment this would amount to a walk of about 7 to 10 km (about 4 to 6.2 mi) and a climb from about 1,500 m to 3,200 m (about 4,900 ft to 10,500 ft).   So on these trips conditions were pretty tough but always worth it.

How did you travel in such diverse terrain?

There are very few roads in these mountains, so virtually all the filming was done on foot.  One can travel to the main camps and reserves by vehicle, but once you get there you are on foot.

What was it like to work among the eland? How did you get close enough to capture some of the intimate scenes in the film?

The small groups of eland near camp were quite tolerant of people and if you approached slowly, or let them come towards you, you could get quite close.  But the large herds on the slopes below the escarpment were very frustrating.  Very often they would start running off when you were still over a kilometer (about 0.6 mi) away.  The only way we could get close to them was either in the mist when they could not see us (or vice versa) or by putting up our small portable hide along a route they were taking and to hope they would come past.

Was anyone bitten while filming the shots of the ou-hout bushes and the miniature ecosystem that thrives among the branches?

We got stung occasionally by the ants, but it was not that bad and is all part of the game.  The whole idea was to film them undisturbed, so like most animals in the bush if you leave them alone they will leave you alone.

Filming the veld fire

The fire scene is a very striking moment in the film. What was it like to be there when the fire broke out?

Dramatic and a little scary.  Veld fires are always dangerous, but we made sure we had an escape route before getting close to the fire.   Once the fire had burned for a while we stayed in the burned grass.  The wind swung around a lot so quite often we got a face full of hot smoke, but at least we knew that we could not be burned.   When the fire started we were close to hard rocky soil with sparse, short grass so we stayed there until we had a safe burned area we could move onto.

We were actually more concerned for the animals, particularly the eland, but they are such mobile and surprisingly agile animals that it would take quite some fire to corner them.

Are there any other exciting or interesting off-screen moments that you can share with our readers?

It is probably the structure and beauty of the Drakensberg that provides its most memorable moments.  Sitting on a mountain that is almost flat on top and then looking over the edge down a sheer 600-meter (nearly 2,000-foot) drop is a pretty awesome experience.   And then to fly over this area with its solid rock cathedral-like spires shooting up towards you is something you will never forget.

Another exciting moment was when we were filming ice rats in the mist one afternoon.  Suddenly it started snowing, then dark clouds rolled in and then lightning struck so close to us that we could actually smell it.  We headed for home pretty smartly after that.

Photos © AWF

Wildlife cinematographer Bob Landis

Wildlife cinematographer Bob Landis once taught high school math in Billings, Montana, filming wildlife on the side. But once he sold his first commissioned film, he decided to change course and focus solely on filmmaking.

Now he spends day after day filming in Yellowstone, living out of an old log cabin that has been updated with some modern amenities. His long list of credits includes NATURE’s In the Valley of the Wolves.

Submit your questions for Bob Landis in the comments field below, and he’ll respond during the week of January 18.

–

Josh asks:

I was wondering if you knew how the druid pack is doing now?

Bob says:

Josh,

The Druids are in a bit of a decline. They’ve been hit hard with mange. I saw them this morning. Their alpha male 480 has left (possibly because all the females in the pack right now are his daughters). Two new male suitors are dogging the pack so there is sure to be a new alpha male soon. We are just about to enter the mating season so all this activity is picking up.

A note on mange – a male from the Molly’s pack had such bad mange last year he hardly had any hair at all. But this year he is doing quite well and his coat looks great.

–

Steven asks:

I was wondering, if you and the crew were the only “meat” around, how did you keep from becoming wolf or bear dinner?

Bob says:

Steven,

Filming in Yellowstone is like no other place. Most of the time, I am filming from the road right next to tourists. I’m near my vehicle, and the animals are used to seeing people in that context.

As for the danger from wolves and bears, there was one bear-related death in Yellowstone about 20 years ago. It’s a very rare occurrence when humans turn into bear food in the park. And I’ve never been threatened by wolves even though they sometimes come in quite close. The fact that bison, elk, bears, and wolves are so accessible here is one of the most extraordinary things about Yellowstone.

–

Sandy Sisti asks:

I was wondering how long it took you to accumulate all the footage for your new film.

Bob says:

Sandy,

There’s footage in CLASH that goes back four years. I go out to film every day but often film an animal that doesn’t get into my current project. Then I have that footage to use in the next film. But, really, it takes quite a few years to get all the bear/wolf footage I need for an hour-long film.

–

James Whalen asks:

I was in Yellowstone on a 6-day backpacking trip in the Gallatin area, in 1994, before wolves were reintroduced. Back then coyotes were numerous, and every night we heard coyotes howling away. Is it true that the population of coyotes has been cut in half since wolves were reintroduced? I am a fan of wolf reintroduction because this makes Yellowstone a complete, balanced ecosystem.

Bob says:

James,

In the early days of wolf reintroduction, there was a reduction of coyotes of about 50 percent in Lamar Valley, and those numbers were simply extrapolated throughout the park — even in places where there were no wolves at all. But now, fifteen years on, coyote numbers have come back (even in Lamar), and park biologists now believe that there are at least as many coyotes as there were before wolves were reintroduced. I see about five or six from the road every day.

–

Chris Stark asks:

I am making my first trip to Yellowstone and the Tetons this summer. I enjoyed “In the Valley of the Wolves”. Is the Lamar Valley the best place to view wolves in Yellowstone or are there other places to view?

Bob says:

Chris,

The Lamar Valley is part of what we call The Northern Range, and the road that runs from Mammoth through Lamar all the way to Cooke City will afford you the best chance to see wolves in the park. Wow, your first trip to Yellowstone! That takes me back. Have a wonderful time.

–

Mike Wagner, Founder and Executive Director, Heart of the Wolf asks:

What do you think of the tragedy of the wolf pack that was annihilated and was a part of Yellowstone as a result of the Montana wolf hunts as of late?

Bob says:

Mike,

I was very disappointed when Montana Fish and Game had an early opening to the wolf hunt north of the park. If they had delayed that hunt until the general elk hunting season, those wolves would probably not have been outside of the park and exposed to hunting pressure. They might well have colonized the Slough Creek Pack’s territory, which had been left vacant when the Slough Creek Pack dissolved. There is still no pack that dens in that area, and we are waiting to see how things sort out this spring.

–

Cynthia asks:

Wondering if you have to pay for a daily park filming fee or an annual fee?

Bob says:

Cynthia,

The Park permitting system sure has gotten complicated. As an individual with a camera, which is how I work most of the time, I pay an annual fee of $200. To film with a crew, I would have to pay a location fee of $150 per day. Whenever I film in the thermal areas, I must have a park monitor with me and that’s an additional $60 per hour for a minimum of three hours. That usually ends up at about $500 per day. The filming regulations and fees in National Parks are continuing to evolve.

–

Carol asks:

My best friend Alan Sachanowski lives there in Yellowstone. He has taken many pictures of a bear called Rosie. My question is have you ever seen Rosie? Alan said that he did not see her last Year.

Bob says:

Carol,

Rosie is a Black bear, and her name comes from the fact that she lives in the Roosevelt Lodge area near Tower Junction and along the Canyon Road. She has a red ear tag, which makes her quite recognizable. She was named about 20 years ago, and it’s debated among the community of photographers if “Rosie” is the same bear from year to year. I did not see her last year either. Black bears usually live about 20 years, so we may meet a new “Rosie” this spring – which might well be one of her offspring.

–

Kayla asks:

I was wondering, how do you become a wildlife cinematographer?

Bob says:

Kayla,

My own career began as a hobby. It just got out of control. I finally accumulated enough footage to make my first film and that got me started. But I recommend the old-fashioned approach of apprenticing with an established cinematographer or enrolling in a real film school. Montana State University has a good program specifically for wildlife cinematography. Good luck!

–

Floyd Bond asks:

I had the pleasure of meeting you a couple years ago on a very cold morning when we were photographing wolves. About how many hours of shooting do you put in to make a one-hour film for television?

Bob says:

Floyd,

I generally put in about 300 days a year and 8 to 10 hours a day depending on the season and the length of daylight. It takes me about two to four years to make an hour of television. When you are out to Yellowstone next time, I look forward to meeting you again along the road – and almost all the mornings are cold!

–

Jack Bean asks:

Do you need two objective lens covers for your Swarovski EL’s? I will bring them up for you when I come up again soon if you do. I saw a photograph of you with your binoculars on and they were missing.

Bob says:

Jack,

Great to hear from you! I don’t have those lens covers because I find that they get in the way. But thanks for your kind offer. And thanks for the great “Jack’s Jerky.” It always good to feed the photographers if not the bears!

–

Rebecca Mottin (Ontario, Canada) asks:

Do you have any plans to use more Hayden wolf footage in future projects? I made sure to tape tonight’s broadcast since it was much better than what we came home with on our little video camera.

Bob says:

Rebecca,

Yes, I am currently working on a film that follows the story of one black wolf that was born into the Hayden Pack in 2007. But now the Hayden pack has left the park and been replaced by the Canyon Pack that’s moved into Hayden Valley. It takes a lot to keep up with these wolves! We plan to start editing this story in April and it may be on the air about this time next year. Stay tuned!

–

Bob Safay asks:

Like some of the others I would like to know what HD Cams you used, what audio equipment, lens and filters.

Bob says:

Bob,

I use a Sony HD Cam and a Canon zoom lens 40 x 14. This one lens is what I use 99 percent of the time. There are filters built into the camera and I don’t use any additional ones. To record sound, I use a Sanheiser shot gun microphone and sometimes record sound right off my camera.

–

Linda asks:

One question: what is the most interesting and/or amazing animal centric event that you have witnessed?

Bob says:

Linda,

What I really enjoy the most is filming animals just having a good time. They work so hard to make a living that I always feel good when I get to see them relax. My favorite moments from this film are that big bear playing in the water and the wolf pups of the Hayden Valley Pack playing by the river. I don’t think I could pick just one favorite moment after all these years!

–

Wayne Gary asks:

The show ended with a bear protecting a kill on Christmas. What happened to the bear? Did he go into hibernation or stay out all winter?

Bob says:

Wayne,

I saw that bear a week later heading up toward the rim of the Yellowstone River Canyon. That’s the last anyone saw of him that winter so we think he denned up there somewhere. He sure took us all by surprise on Christmas morning. Christmas is usually for wolf watchers.

–

Dale Klemm asks:

The end of your documentary showed a grizzly protecting a carcass on Christmas Day. My family was fortunate enough to view the same scenario in the Lamar Valley on Christmas Day 2008. Was this sequence shot during this time frame and was it the same bear?

Bob says:

Dale,

I filmed the Christmas bear at Geode Creek about 15 miles from Lamar on Christmas Day 2008. I didn’t hear of another bear like this, and this behavior was so unusual that I certainly would have heard about it. It must have been the same bear. Is there any chance you were over by Geode Creek? It’s halfway between Mammoth and Tower Junction.

–

Bob Hilger asks:

How are the cougars doing in yellowstone in relation the influx of the wolves? I know there are not a whole lot of lions in the park to begin with, and I am sure the wolves will not hesitate to kill one if they had have a chance.

Bob says:

Bob,

Interesting question. The park has done extensive research on cougars both pre-wolf and post-wolf, and the numbers seem to have stayed about the same. Wolves and lions use different territories and different habitats. But at a carcass, wolves will certainly chase off a lion. I have see this personally. It was very early morning at Slough Creek and three wolves found a lion at a carcass. They chased the lion and it raced off and up into a tree. I know of another case of wolves killing a litter of four lion kittens that were four or five months old and one case of a lion killing a wolf. I don’t know all the details of the latter but I bet it was a lone wolf at a carcass. I think the latest count on the cougar population is about 60 individuals and some of those range outside the park.

This summer I was fortunate enough to work on White Falcon, White Wolf — the first show in NATURE’s Season 27 lineup. The film takes place on Ellesmere Island, which is so high up in the Arctic most people wouldn’t dream of traveling there, let alone haul film equipment, camp, and follow animals for weeks on end. But a group of people did just that, and I had the opportunity to interview four of them.

Shot during the brief Ellesmere Island summer, White Falcon, White Wolf captures a season when the cycles and connections of life are quite visible — light returns, babies are born, and vegetation flourishes. Following the lives of a family of gyrfalcons and a tight-knit pack of white wolves, the dramas that unfold in this show are not to be missed. So tune in on October 26, and when you find yourself wondering, “How did those filmmakers get that shot?” you can find out here. 

– Irene Tejaratchi Hess, NATURE Producer

Photographed by three-time Emmy Award winning filmmaker Neil Rettig, “American Eagle” is the first HD hour on bald eagles ever. In this behind-the-scenes exclusive, Rettig talks about the making of the film while he captures footage of the spring migration along the Mississippi River. Rettig shares his favorite experiences from the filming and explains why he believes wildlife filmmakers have a special responsibility to move people to think about the natural world, now more than ever.

Thank you for all of the comments so far -– I’m touched to see how the film has affected people so deeply. We’re happy that our story of the bald eagle was able to reach such a wide audience. Neil dreamt for years about making a bald eagle film, so the broadcast of this show (and your positive comments) mean the world to him.

I’ve enjoyed reading your observations and look forward to corresponding with those who felt moved to write a comment on this website. I wanted to answer some of the posted questions and to add feedback on some of the postings to date:

• To answer Ryan’s question, the fish hatchery nest is situated in Decorah, IA. The eagles live on private property though, so no intruding! :-> On a side note, the one-eyed female once caught two trout with one foot. She was a very impressive hunter when she needed to be.
• Our production team was very moved by Path’s poem. The section of the film involving the death of the one-eyed female and egg was (by far) one of the toughest scenes I’ve ever been a part of editing. My wife was pregnant at the time Neil Rettig reported the deaths to us, so I felt the loss on a deeper level than expected. I was happy though that the male was able to rebuild his family during the next season and that we were able to capture his story for our film.
• On the other American Eagle comments page, there have been some posts questioning the validity of the impact of DDT on bald eagle eggs. This allows us to delve into the issue a bit further. Be assured, our team thoroughly vetted all of our sources. We were keenly aware of the dissenting opinions regarding the effects of DDT on bald eagles, so we were especially careful and thorough with research on this point. We reviewed a variety of reports published by well-respected journals and took into consideration not only the information in the reports, but also the sources they cited. When considering the evidence appearing to indicate that DDT had little effect on bald eagles or their eggs, the quality of the information or sources did not meet with our strict standards; therefore, we feel confident that our film’s comments about DDT are accurate.
• I enjoyed looking at Darlene’s photography — especially photos #16 & 19. (The bald Eagle’s wingspan is ridiculously large, and those photos show it off quite well.) Thank you for posting the link to your website. There is nothing like being up close to a bald eagle (although they are not half as scary in person as the harpy eagle — Neil is the caretaker of one on loan from the Peregrine Fund).
• To re-chime the bell (as rung by Tom), Neil is the best raptor cinematographer I’ve ever worked with. He spent almost two years filming this program and his meticulous attention to detail and his tireless work ethic comes across in the final product. The quality of the footage is extraordinary, considering too that bald eagles are shy by nature and do not like getting close to video cameras. Canon deserves a special shout-out for loaning us a 40X Zoom lens with a built-in stabilizer every once in a while. If you’re interested in picking one up, here’s the link: http://www.canon.com/bctv/products/hj40×14b.html
• For Sharon V (and to the other bird rehabilitators who wrote in), good luck with your continued success in raptor rehabilitation. Neil and I worked on a separate program titled Raptor Force, which aired last year on NATURE. I’d recommend watching it if you get the chance. It’s definitely a different film than American Eagle in a number of ways but also goes into great detail on raptor flight and hunting techniques.
• As Deb mentions, there are a ton of webcams that follow nesting pairs of raptors. Bob Anderson maintains a number of such webcams — here is his website: http://raptorresource.org/falcon_cams/index.html

Thank you again for all of your comments. I look forward to checking in every once in a while to answer any questions you may have about our film. And if you feel like a change of pace, please watch our next film on NATURE, Sunday January 25th at 8pm. It’s all about skunks!

Sincerely,

James Donald, Producer

Several years ago, I received a telephone call from the popular host of the PBS WILD AMERICA series, Marty Stouffer. He had a documentary film assignment in mind for me. “I want to make a film about mustangs,” Marty explained. “Interested in shooting it for me?” I immediately said yes. I hadn’t had a horse since I was a teenager, but Marty thought I knew a lot about horses. I was excited but worried. In my experience, horses just stood around in fields and grazed. How could I make an interesting TV show about that? I was completely ignorant about the complex and fascinating world of wild horses.

Raven

In March 1994, I stood in the chill of pre-dawn on a red desert hilltop ready to start filming. The desert lay at the base of flat-topped mountains the Crow Indians call the Arrowheads, a wilderness home for black bears, mountain lions, bighorn sheep, mule deer, golden eagles, coyotes, and about 175 wild horses

I held my breath as six wild horses wandered from behind a hill and into a sea of blue green sage. I focused my 600mm lens on a newborn foal, with a huge diamond-shaped star, trotting to keep up with his pale buckskin mother. A grulla mare, her black yearling son, and a striking palomino filly followed. Some distance away was the stallion — black as night with a white snip on the end of his aquiline nose. When I stood up and bent back over the camera, the stallion saw me and pranced forward, shaking his head in agitation.

He stared, snorted, and wheeled. In perfect synchrony, his family ran away with the stallion galloping in the rear to protect his family from the deadly silhouette on the hill. It was a moment I will never forget. Even then, I felt a deep connection to the black stallion. I later learned his name was Raven.

After the reaction of Raven’s band to me and my camera, I believed I would need to film from a blind. So, when the snow melted, I navigated the miserable road to sub-alpine meadows atop the mountain. I stationed myself on a cliff above a water hole. Nestled between boulders, I felt confident my camera and I were virtually invisible.

Within minutes, a golden dun stallion named Shaman approached. As his large band drank, the stallion jerked his head into the air, sniffed and looked up. I did not blink. Suddenly, he snorted explosively and the entire band raced away, leaving me alone in my cliff blind. That worked well, I told myself, surveying a horseless meadow. Not only could wild horses see any movement, they could smell any danger. I needed to rethink my strategy.

Over the next few days as I sat in frustration, Raven and his family appeared. Day after day, they seemed to find me rather than the other way around. I began waving at them — something told me to be quietly conspicuous. I watched to see the direction they were traveling and set up my camera ahead of them. Over time they paid me the highest compliment a wild animal can pay a wildlife filmmaker: they ignored me.

By now there were three foals in Raven’s band, the one I named Diamond (who was turning into a blue roan), a solid grulla, and a strawberry roan colt with a huge star. In September, the two younger brothers died in a Bureau of Land Management roundup. It was a tragic loss for Raven’s family and a shocking end to an idyllic summer for me. The following spring, nothing could keep me from returning to see if Raven’s family could recover from their horrible loss.

Cloud

It was late May. I was intently filming a three-year-old stallion trying to breed his father’s newly acquired mare. When the older stallion returned, his son innocently clacked his teeth like a foal, as if to say “Don’t hurt me, I’m little.” Young stallions are usually ousted from their bands at two to avoid in-breeding, and this three-year-old was pushing his luck.

Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of white in the forest. Seconds later, Raven’s palomino mare broke out of the trees with her newborn and led him right past my camera. The colt was just hours old and he tottered to keep up with his mother. He was unlike any foal on the Arrowheads, for he was nearly white. The band was on an uphill trek and I followed. Within a half-hour, they arrived at a snowbank under dense trees. This was their water source until water holes on the mountaintop melted. The colt sniffed the cold whiteness and collapsed in a heap in the shade. As I watched him breathe I counted his ribs. I had never seen a newborn foal. Were they all this fragile? I named the colt Cloud and prayed he would live.

Two weeks later, the frail colt had blossomed, displaying the boldness that would become his trademark. His two sisters were several months older than Cloud, and targets for his teasing, especially when they were sleeping. He would nibble on their manes and pull their ears. He galloped around circular stands of firs like it was his own personal racecourse. Round and round he flew, seeming never to tire.

When Raven thought his little fillies had wandered too far from the band, he gently reprimanded them by snaking them home, laying his ears back and lowering his head. Cloud mimicked his father and, when a little filly came to visit, he laid his ears flat, dipped his head low and chased her away. Everything he did that summer led me to conclude, “One day you will become a great band stallion like your father.”

When summer ended, so did my filming for WILD AMERICA.

Return to the Arrowheads

For nearly two years I filmed throughout the world. But I was haunted by Raven, Cloud, and the family. They had captured my imagination and my heart.

Fortunately I was hired to produce another film that included wild horses, so I returned to the Arrowheads. I was better prepared this time. I had learned that their communication, so subtle one moment and broad the next, was reminiscent of wolves. Each family member had a place in the hierarchy of the band. Parental discipline was clear, consistent, and fair. And the ritual encounters of the stallions were unforgettable. From a distance their high-pitched shrieks echoed through the forests and canyons.

Cloud was celebrating his second birthday on the day I returned to the Arrowheads. I found that Raven had kicked both him and his brother Diamond out of the band. Finding them would prove to be a challenge, for bachelors roam unpredictably and for long distances.

Using binoculars, I surveyed the vast ridges of Tillet where Cloud was born, and across a deep, impassable canyon to Sykes Ridge with its hundreds of rippling fingers and shallow canyons. A white horse! It had to be Cloud. Five hours later, I was on Sykes. Cloud looked up and I waved. Remember me? I was relieved when he went back to playing with a dun bachelor, spinning and nipping at the smaller stallion’s legs. What a beauty. His coat gleamed and his body was well-developed for only a two-year-old.

Over the summer he interacted with the other bachelors on the mountain, running across flower-strewn meadows, dashing just close enough to the family bands to rile the band stallions. Like a gang of rowdy teenage boys, bachelors are freedom personified.

In the fall, another roundup shattered the tranquility of the Arrowheads. Of the bachelors captured, only Cloud was released, because of his unusual color. I searched everywhere for him over the next two months. When the snow began falling, I lost hope of finding him and feared he might be dead.

In the spring I returned to the mountain, not knowing what I might find. If Cloud were alive, he would surely follow the green grass to the top of the mountain. While I was filming a band of horses running to water, I spotted bachelors racing over the hill and Cloud was right in the middle of them. He was alive!

As a four-year-old, Cloud made an unusual decision. He began to dog one of the toughest band stallions on the mountain, Mateo, a burley bay in his prime and built like a sumo wrestler. Never mind that most stallions are at least six when they attempt to start a family. Cloud’s strategy: follow as closely as he dared and get the shorter stallion to chase him. He would eventually wear the bay down and steal his mares. The game lasted all summer. In the end, it was Cloud who wore out, and went lame.

He joined a group of bachelors living far outside the horse range. He went into winter thin, lame and listless. This time, I thought he might be gone forever.

But Cloud appeared the next spring as a five-year-old, and he had changed. He was lean, mean, and determined to start his own family. He fought the powerful blue roan stallion Plenty Coups for his mares. Cloud’s strategy was the same. During one grueling chase, Plenty Coups made a misstep. The stallion hobbled to a halt, licking the blood running down his leg. Then he continued to give chase — on three legs. Days later, when fog sealed the mountain in a gray shroud, I returned home to Colorado, not knowing the outcome of their epic struggle.

Later that summer, I rode my once-wild horse, Trace, to find Cloud. We saw Plenty Coups at a spring-fed water hole. He had lost his whole band, his mares divided among various stallions.

Only a quarter of a mile away, Trace and I located Cloud. Ironically, he was not with a Plenty Coups mare but an older grulla female named Queen. The mare had given birth to a sickly foal and when her band left, she and her yearling son stayed with the foal. Cloud found them and stood quietly by the mare’s side. When the foal died, the mare and son stayed with Cloud. And so, not in a clash of teeth and hooves but in a moment of stillness, the young stallion achieved his goal of starting his own family.

Cloud’s Legacy

Two Christmases ago at sunset I spotted a glow amongst dark junipers on a hill near the mouth of Cougar Canyon. It was my first glimpse of Cloud in winter! In March, I returned to the mouth of the canyon but Cloud was not to be found. So I hiked through the snow-choked canyon and onto the windswept ridges of Sykes. I saw a red dun with a grulla. Queen? Bachelors were dogging Cloud’s mare. If he were alive Cloud would never allow this. Once again, I was seized with fear and worry.

By early June, I had still not located Cloud. Then, near the spring-fed water hole, he appeared! He followed down the muddy slope by a blue roan mare and her yearling daughter. The mare was Sitka, Shaman’s lead mare. I couldn’t imagine Cloud taking her from the formidable stallion.

Equally startling, below the snow-fed water hole, I spotted what looked like a light-colored rock in the grass that I hadn’t seen before. I focused my long lens on the shape. It was a colt with a huge star. When the baby stood, I gasped. It had a white mane and tail. A palomino! Nearby was Plenty Coups’ black mare with Shaman. It was clear to me I was looking at Cloud’s son. Cloud had bred the black mare, perhaps in the fog after Plenty Coups was injured. Yet, the young stallion could not hold on to her.

In July, Sitka foaled and Cloud had his first foal to raise. Though not of his blood, the little grulla would become his son in every other sense of the word. I named him Flint and he would one day need every bit of toughness his name implies.

Predation was high that summer. Mountain lions preyed on nearly a third of the foals and Cloud’s light colored son was a vulnerable target. Marauding bachelors harassed Cloud’s family. A roundup separated families and a wildfire threatened to destroy all the wild horses. Through it all, Cloud survived, as bold and brave as the precocious little white colt who first captured my heart.

–Ginger Kathrens

Wildlife filmmaker Shane Moore has been documenting the natural world for nearly three decades, sometimes hauling his equipment halfway around the world. But NATURE’s A Mystery in Alaska marks the first time that Moore has played a leading role in one of his own films — in this case, leading viewers through the thicket of often conflicting explanations for why Alaska’s once booming Steller’s sea lion population has fallen on hard times. He stepped into the role only after the show’s planned host, a veteran biologist, died unexpectedly.

The experience, he says, gave him “a new appreciation of just how hard it is to decide what you want to say and be sure that what you are saying is correct. It was remarkably stressful … but we felt we needed someone to lead people through the story.”

In 2003, Moore spoke with NATURE from Wyoming, where he was working on a new film about grizzly bears.

Filmmaker Shane Moore came to Alaska to investigate the decline in sea lion populations.

How did you get interested in the sea lion mystery in Alaska?

Well, I had worked in Alaska a lot, and when I heard about the sea lion’s [decline], it was devastating. Something pretty drastic was going on.

My love of sea lions started when my wife Lybby and I made a film in Alaska in the early 1990s. We wanted to film sea lions in the water, but people up there try to avoid sea lions like the plague, because they can really scare you when you are underwater. They seek you out. So, I thought I was going to be torn to shreds. The animals were pulling on my [diving] fins, jostling me, pushing on my camera. But I was really taken with them. And after diving with them quite a lot, I got taken with them even more.

Eventually, I went out [with scientists] on several capture trips, where we would try to put instruments on sea lions. Once we went for three weeks and didn’t have much luck. So we started talking about how we could catch them relatively easily underwater. It took several years to get all the permissions, but now they can go out and catch a dozen sea lions in a day. [As a filmmaker] who feels like I pester scientists a lot, it was nice in this case to be able to help out a little.

Researchers have put forth a number of theories for the sea lion decline. How did you deal with that debate without getting sidetracked or leaving viewers confused?

It’s a huge challenge to treat the science fairly, but keep a foot rooted in the audience’s world. If we just did talking heads and scientific debate, that would turn off a lot of people. So we had to weave our way through that.

We had planned to have Walt Cunningham, who had worked as a biologist and a fisherman in Alaska, narrate the film, and lead us through all the complexity. But toward the end of our filming, Walt was killed in a diving accident. That was a real setback. We searched for other [narrators], but couldn’t find one. So that task fell to me. And we felt it important that at the end of the film that we offer an opinion of what was happening. We had looked through maybe 50 pounds of scientific papers, and traveled all around the state. So we made some conclusions at the end of the film.

When we started, I was fairly convinced that these huge [pollock] fisheries [caused the decline]. But as we went along, I realized it was pretty complicated. The bulk of the initial decline could have been a natural cause [such as climate change]. And these cycles may have been going on for thousands of years, and we’re just starting to look into them. Also, pollock stocks appear to be increasing all over the state so the pollock fishery doesn’t appear to be playing the major role. It looks like the herring populations play a bigger role.

Now, some people may not agree with my take that the pollock fishery isn’t responsible [for the sea lion declines]. But that explanation doesn’t seem to fit the evidence.

Alaska is a haven for wildlife.

Is working off Alaska difficult?

One of the first things we realized is that chartering boats in Alaska can cost upwards of $1,000 a day. So we knew we couldn’t afford to make a film that way. And the weather can get bad, so often you are stuck on an anchor for a week at a time. So we decided to buy our own boat — an old trawler — and live on it for a year. That was an adventure. I had never run a substantial boat before. But it allowed us a lot more time in the field. We sold it at the end.

What were some of the hardest shots to get?

The filming of the fish [and sea lions and birds feeding on fish] took months. We had a good depth sounder on the boat, but we would also take a lot of our cues from the wildlife, for instance looking for birds feeding. We spent many hours cruising around looking for the slightest signs, and a lot of time in the water. We had to use rebreathers [diving equipment that doesn't produce bubbles] because the fish are afraid of bubbles. Still, getting shots of [predators] feeding on the herring was really difficult. We’ve even donated some of our footage to scientists who are studying how sea lions and birds feed on herring.

Where do you enjoy working the most?

The High North is really my favorite place, Alaska and the Canadian Arctic. Most of the places we go to film, we’re working in a pocket of wildness in a sea of humanity. It’s a bit distressing to film isolated patches of wildlife that are often in trouble. We often crop out all the problems and show some idyllic bit of nature or some behavior. But Alaska is the opposite — it’s phenomenal wildness with pockets of humanity.

Will your film influence the debate over what to do about the sea lion decline in Alaska?

My hope is that, at the very least, we help create a general awareness about this issue. The bulk of the public doesn’t have clue that this problem exists. People know about [threats facing] the spotted owl or wolves. But this is a story that has gotten hardly any attention.