The Mighty Mississippi (Full Episode) | America the Beautiful | Nat Geo Animals

NARRATOR: It is the greatest mash-up of rivers in North America. The Mississippi meets the Missouri, and then... hello, Ohio. Together, a torrential team. They converge on one wild stretch of waterway to make a magnet for nature's miracles: the sweet... the savage... and the strange... all hidden within the mighty Mississippi. (music) Place three large, frigid rivers in a bowl. Take all the ice and snow they've collected over winter and apply heat. Then sprinkle in some spring rains. It's a recipe for disaster. There's a part of the Mississippi River where such a flood can run virtually unchecked. A force of nature with no dams or locks. A 200-mile stretch that's both powerful and untamed. It starts where the Missouri River meets the Mississippi, and it goes down to where the Ohio joins the fun. Out here, nature gets to run its course. But all this water threatens dens among the banks. These young red foxes may soon have to find a new home. (mewing and chattering) They're only pups, but they are ready to explore. It seems the kits don't waste a thought on floods or future hardships. But Mom knows it can get tough. Her coat is patchy, possibly from mange-- a skin disease caused by mites. Her partner? He's around less, now that the pups are getting older. But she still has to care for them. She's now a single parent giving her young all she can, while she can... seeing them through their own troubles. This little tyke got a stick in the eye, but he'll recover... ...thanks in part to the scraps his mom brings to the table. In another six months, they'll be off on their own. Red foxes roam more of the planet than any other canine species. But their footprint is firm in the Middle Mississippi. It is an area unique in all America. It's the home of the biggest river rendezvous in the lower 48. First, the mighty Mississippi, then, north of St. Louis, bring on the Missouri, and just 200 miles or so farther on, in Cairo, Illinois, they meet the Ohio to make a triple header. Geologists call this stretch the Middle Mississippi, and it holds the most powerful convergence of water in the nation. (thunder) Water is life. So it makes sense that the three rivers area draws a huge cast of animal characters. The soil is soft and easy to dig. The grasses provide food. And the trees give shelter from the elements. Thousands of birds use nest boxes that conservationists have been building for them for nearly a hundred years. (flapping) (chirping) Inside, a mother wood duck has made a feather-down bed for a fragile family of eggs. It's spring, so this new generation of wood ducks is ready to enter the world. At birth, they are about as helpless as it gets, but the learning curve is steep for these guys. There's no food up here, so they have just 36 hours to leave the nest, or starve. And it's a long way down. Mom checks in. Once most of her babies have hatched, she signals them to come on down with a special call she uses this time each year. (twittering) She needs to get them to the river, where she can protect them. First step, get out of the nest. It's a leap of faith. Their tiny wings can't carry them. But, hey, ya gotta try. The duck dive. The back flip. Each has its own heroic style. The leaves cushion the landing. But that's just the beginning. The water is a hundred feet away. That's a short walk for us, but a life-and-death marathon for a duckling that weighs less than an ounce. Mom leads the way. But there are some stragglers. It often happens. A couple of ducks miss the mom train. These two siblings may pay dearly for their tardiness. Now they must tackle the path ahead all by themselves. And danger is everywhere. Foxes, bobcats, raptors... and one hungry black rat snake, right at their level. Less than two days old, and the journey of a lifetime. NARRATOR: Even without Mom, these baby wood ducks instinctively know they must move fast through the undergrowth and towards the Mississippi River. They run a gauntlet where they may be the main course. All they have on their side is each other. How long their little lives will last may depend entirely on how this journey ends. Finally, they make it to the water and can join the family. (quacking) Here in the heart of the three rivers, Mom can keep watch while they eat their greens and bugs and grow strong. But there are still threats. Some of the biggest are just around the bend. They are as still as statues, a strange sight. They appear as rocks. But this is flesh and blood. They're at the surface to breathe, but frozen. Their metabolism is slow, and they have a lifetime of practicing stealth. These are alligator snapping turtles, famous for their powerful jaws. Down below, they patrol the depths and shallows of the waterways. They are the heavyweight predators down here. They grow to more than 200 pounds and live for up to 70 years. The males never leave the water. And the females... just once a year. (bird squawking) A perilous annual sojourn. This is a mission of maternal duty. Female alligator snapping turtles must find a spot about 50 yards from the river's edge. Somewhere with soft soil. And she begins an excavation. Her sharp claws break the dirt. And her hind legs work like shovels. It can take hours. Well into the night. Every minute she's here, she's vulnerable, exposed to predators. Even the bugs seem to know she won't move until she's done. This is a job that can't be rushed. She appears to enter a trance. Then, at last. She mated two months ago, and now she lays her eggs. Throughout the long night, she lays from ten to as many as fifty. This may be the only contact she ever has with her offspring. But she carefully tends to their most immediate need. To remain hidden from predators. It's been a hard night's work. But will her eggs even make it to morning? She returns, knowing nothing but exhaustion. (splash) NARRATOR: Turtles are just one of hundreds of species drawn to the three rivers of Middle Mississippi. The rivers also attract people, especially those who like to fish. (motor humming) The lower levels of the tributaries are easy to navigate. In some sections, the channels are only six feet deep. It's in these low-lying waterways that anglers need to beware. It's calm on top. But there is great danger below. They search for just the right fishing hole... Hoping to catch a white bass. Unaware that any second they may trigger an ambush attack. All it takes is a passing boat. (motor buzzing) (splashing) Asian carp jump en masse. A reflex triggered by anything that sounds and feels to them like danger. Carp in these parts can weigh up to a hundred pounds, but it's these five or ten pounders that are the big jumpers. No surprise for seasoned anglers out here... but the carp have broken noses and knocked people unconscious. In America, they aren't popular for eating. The Asian carp was introduced to the United States in the 1970s to control weeds on fish farms. Some escaped. They multiplied. And now, they can be hard to escape. The sound of their own boat engine keeps the fish coming. They are the unwitting conductors of an aerial ballet. (waltz music playing) Asian carp continue to spread throughout the convergence and farther north. Some fishery experts expect carp to soon reach 31 states... taking over the three rivers area and 40% of the waterways in the continental United States. There's another invasion about to take place here. One of biblical proportions. NARRATOR: Every year in the Middle Mississippi area, one of summer's cooler days triggers a landmark event. Some mayflies live in the river as nymphs for more than a year. Now they hatch with wings... and surface all at once. (fluttering) They weigh down the branches of young trees like a bumper crop of graying leaves. They're not just hanging out; they have important business here. They slow down... and one by one... become frozen in time. At least on the outside. On the inside, a new creature is ready to break out of the old skin. This molting is their final transition into adulthood. At this point, they are vulnerable. And the blackbirds and grackles know it. They don't get meals this easy every day. This is a special feast that happens on just a few days each year. Those mayflies who do make it emerge with a brand-new body... and ready to find a mate. There's only one catch. But it's a doozy. This is the last day of their lives. Most will only live for the next 24 hours. No time to waste. They must find a mate in the frenzy, and the clock is ticking. There are obstacles to dodge. But most won't be stopped. Not today. Up and down the Mississippi, they create their own rush hour. Their numbers grow so dense, they can appear as clouds on Doppler radar. So little time for romance, they mate on the fly. The females then lay their eggs in the river, as many as 10,000 of them each. They danced in the dark-- a party fit for their final day on Earth. Now they return from whence they came, as corpses, to the swelling waters of the three wild rivers. The Ohio adds its own super power to this alliance of rivers. By volume, it is the biggest contributor to the Mississippi River, and she doubles the discharge rate to nearly a half million cubic feet of water per second. When the river is high, it could fill more than 400 Olympic swimming pools every minute. The only thing that helps temper the flow is the season. It's getting close to fall. Temperatures begin to cool off. And time to see if the turtle eggs, laid in the spring, will finally produce young. NARRATOR: The alligator snapping turtle eggs have been incubating in the ground for three months. Now this. They don't crack like a bird egg. They are softer, more rubbery. It takes a good bit of pecking and clawing to get out and into their nest cavity. As with many epic journeys, the first steps can be the most challenging... and the stickiest. They still get nutrients from the egg sac attached to their bellies. When it's gone, instinct drives them to dig their way out. They know which way to go. But, like the wood ducks, getting there alive may be the biggest challenge they ever face. Their shells are already hard, but that isn't enough to protect them against the many predators that lurk nearby. Especially this menacing blue heron. This time, a sunfish. But it will eat a baby turtle. The turtles may grow to be giants. But right now it seems like everything is bigger than this tiny one-ounce creature. The terrain becomes an obstacle course. Finally, entrance into their new home. Water never tasted so good. Their chances of long-term survival just dramatically increased. On their side they have camouflage... and the ability to use their snouts like snorkels... and make like a living rock. The return of winter is now just a matter of time. (screeching) Creatures on all three rivers must prepare. This muskrat works on a hut that would make a beaver jealous-- a giant mass of grasses, mud, and cattails. It's a sturdy home... with just one flaw. (honking) It's not soundproof. That becomes a problem every year... when something extraordinary happens. There's a chill in the air near Mound City, Missouri. Snow geese stop here on the Missouri River each winter to freshen up. They're migrating down from the Arctic, headed to the Gulf of Mexico. What starts as hundreds... soon grows to thousands. Then tens of thousands fill the sky. More noisy neighbors than a muskrat can handle. By the week's end, hundreds of thousands of geese have flown in. But not all will leave alive. Bald eagles sometimes eat snow geese. Those eagles, just a few years old or younger, don't have their white heads yet, but they still have an appetite. The geese know the threat. They panic. (flapping and honking) (honk) They leave a sick bird behind... and with little hope. The goose is cooked. The eagles fight for pieces and argue over the spoils. (chirping and screeching) After a week-long stay... the massive flock of geese, and some ducks, move on south. Aerial calligraphy. Translated, it says, 'Ta ta, Missouri.' 'We're off to find warmer waters.' Meanwhile, the Missouri River heads east for a journey of its own. It must rendezvous with the Middle Mississippi and add its weight to the three rivers area. It carries with it the kind of cold that's hard to shake. Yet, even in the darkest depths of winter, there is life. And some of it is having a lot of fun. River otters live on all three rivers. This family can't get enough of that slippery, slide-y, snow-white surface. No need to hibernate like other mammals. River otters have oily waterproof fur to protect them from the cold. And frigid water? Not a problem. They can stay under the ice, hunting for three to four minutes. And sometimes they need to. They'll eat as much as 20% of their body weight every day. 'Wanna share?' 'Well, okay.' And an otter family that hangs together plays together. You don't usually think of carefree days in winter. But that's what these are, in the three rivers area. In this water, there flows the essence of America. Ultimately, it's all called the Mississippi. But that's water from 31 of the lower 48 states-- two-thirds of the country. And it's the Middle Mississippi where most of that comes together. This special section represents the country in another way, too. The 200 miles from Saint Louis... down past Cape Girardeau... and to Cairo, Illinois is a powerful and wild stretch of the Mississippi. And the animals seem to know it. They converge here, too... for a taste of what all these rivers can offer... to live in this part of America, where they, like the rivers, can flow free, roam wide, and remain wild.