National Geographic: Heroes of the High Frontier Page #2

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alive.

Neil, who had survived a fall

from five stories,

was felled by a tiny insect bite.

Infected by a parasite,

he was forced to leave.

I knew someday I had to go back

and complete the entire study

and actually document what happens

when that young Harpy makes its

first flight.

Neil was one of the first to venture

up into this high flung new frontier

but he and other pioneers

will soon climb into canopy's

all over the world.

The rainforest canopy is like an

eighth continent,

an archipelago of floating islands

that encircles the globe in a belt

above the equator.

Originally, it covered 12% of the

planet's land area,

but more than half of it has been

destroyed by logging and agriculture.

Yet, it remains home to more than

half of all the animals

and plants living on earth.

Canopy explorers are discovering

that each island of rainforest

has a nature all its own.

Malaysia's canopy is one of the

highest

and most unattainable in the world.

Like giant lollipops, trees rise a

hundred feet

before spreading their crowns into

the clouds.

From miles around, animals are

gathering here for a great event,

unique to Southeast Asia's

rainforests.

They are coming for a feast.

In the course of a just a few weeks,

most of the trees here will bear

fruit,

laying out a banquet in the sky.

The seeds of the tallest trees...

...helicopter down a hundred feet

into the canopy below.

From there, it's another hundred feet

down into the dark.

Orangutans make an endless

pilgrimage

through these tree tops in search of

food.

They travel alone except for females

and their young.

They maintain detailed mental maps

of huge tracks of forest,

memorizing the location of each

favorite fruit tree

and the shortest routes between them.

While still a baby at mother's breast,

an orang begins a lifetime

of learning

just where and when to find

ripe fruit.

When a wave of mass fruiting hits

a valley,

it gives the orangs something even

more precious than food

- a chance to socialize with

their own kind.

Infants get a rare chance to play with

other youngsters their own age.

Long thought to be loners by nature,

we now know that orangs enjoy

each other's company

- when there's enough food to

go around.

Even the big males are welcome to

join the party.

Gibbons, too, relish the sweet,

abundant fruit.

Orangs would usually threaten a

gibbon who dared to eat

in the same fruiting tree,

but with plenty of food of around,

the little ape can eat his fill

in peace.

Then he swings away with

effortless grace,

hundreds of feet above the ground.

Orangs are too heavy for

such acrobatics.

Instead, they descend to the under

story,

where they put their weight to

good use.

Still 50 feet above the forest floor,

they sway back and forth on the

pliable saplings,

working their way between the taller

fruiting trees.

Moving among the trees

presents special challenges

for all canopy creatures...

...especially those without limbs.

A snake requires exquisite balance.

This one is quite comfortable

with life out on a limb.

The flying snake glides

from tree to tree.

It flattens its body into a ribbon-

shape, swimming through the air.

It's not easy to escape such a

talented predator.

Ribs raise wings,

as a warning at first.

Flying dragons soar through the open

colonnades of a Malaysian forest,

just one leap ahead of

their predators.

These are the gothic cathedrals

of the canopy,

but there are places that resemble the

tangled webs of jungle lore

- the lush forests of Costa Rica.

Here, epiphytes, the plants growing

on the trees,

may weigh more than the foliage of

the trees themselves.

Woody vines called lianas knit

the canopy together

providing by-ways for all sorts of

creatures

and making a prehensile tail

a useful and common adaptation.

The booming calls of howler

monkeys

attract the attention of a passing

jaguar.

For canopy animals,

it is the forest floor that is

a dangerous place.

A jaguar would love to snatch

a howler,

if only it could reach their treetop

refuge.

The close-knit canopy...

...is a green roof shading

the forest floor.

A dark netherworld populated

by the undead.

Most seedlings that sprout here

slowly starve in the endless gloom.

But vines make their own luck,

they flail about following

every sunbeam to its source.

Some climb using tendrils

that coil tightly,

pulling the plant skyward.

Others take a more direct approach,

wrapping their stems around any

support that leads up to the light.

When they finally break out

into the tropical sunshine,

they turn the power of the sun

into the stuff of life.

No sooner is light turned into

substance than it is consumed -

transforming the sun's energy

yet again.

Orchids don't have to fight for

their place in the sun,

they start life up here already.

They are epiphytes, so-called

air plants,

which thrive without any connection

to the earth below.

But one infamous plant makes

the most of both worlds.

The tiny seedling sends down roots.

Just thin strands at first,

heading a hundred feet to the forest

floor below.

Once it connects with the earth,

it gains new power.

Its leaves compete for light

with the host tree,

while its roots multiply and merge

into misshapen limbs.

They wrap around the trunk

of the host in a deadly embrace,

constricted and starved of life,

the host usually dies and rots away,

while the roots solidify into the

trunk of a forest giant

with an empty heart.

The strangler fig may be a killer,

but it also provides food for

countless animals

and support the thousands of

epiphytes in lush hanging gardens.

Epiphytes are the particular

passion of Nalini Nadkarni.

She practically lives up here

when she's working.

She studied the cloud forest

and each day is reminded of how

it got its name.

"I think one of the most amazing

feelings of working in the canopy

is when the mist and fog and

cloud roll up the mountainside

and it hits the forest, it hits the tree

in front of you,

and you suddenly realize you are

being enveloped in a cloud."

This daily misting provides just

what epiphytes need.

Mosses catch droplets drifting past.

With each drop,

they gather a bit of dust,

some from as far away as

the Sahara Desert.

Soil builds up

and the hanging gardens grow in size

and diversity, building more soil.

A kiss from a desert wind, blown

wet and warm feeds the forest.

"I suddenly feel like this is

what an epiphyte feels like,

this is the nourishing mist and fog

that's coming through.

So I feel it on my face, feel it

on my hands

and I understand better what an

epiphyte is."

Nalini has discovered that the moss mats,

that blanket the

oldest branches, play a vital role.

"These mats are just full of roots,

they sort of knit the soil together...

I'll just finish clipping these last

roots,

and then the moment of peeling

them away.

Watch this.

And what you see is this soil and

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