Where endless grasslands have grown over
empires vanished long ago, a legendary Russian force
is heading inland.
With a stunning variety of landscapes and species,
the Volga has expanded into a vast basin.
Over 2,000 miles, this extraordinary river traverses
the heartlands of Russia for a spectacular finale.
The Volga stretches across
the better part of Eastern Europe.
An area as large as France, Spain and Portugal combined.
It sources in Russia's snow rich north have swelled
the river into a huge, unstoppable force.
All the planet's major rivers flow into the oceans.
All except one; the mighty Volga.
Its southern banks are bare and expansive.
Perfect for the world's heaviest
flying bird to show its stuff.
In early morning mists, great bustards gather along
the Volga steppes near to the city of Saratov.
Each male wants to prove why he is special,
with an extravagant wardrobe.
And a bright white feather ball.
He is very distinctive.
With so many males around,
each has to make an effort to stand out.
Two are readying for a fight.
The first to flinch will lose.
Enter an onlooker.
He has come to observe battle.
But he has a crafty plan.
With the two cocks busy tousling, he makes a discrete exit.
It's all about timing.
Enter not just one, but several females.
A true charmer indeed.
As such, he steals the show.
But not before a final solo.
And with his rivals busy, it's time to close the deal.
Time to exit.
Further south, the land grows barren.
Yet even in the badlands, there is life.
A steppe eagle's nest.
Four chicks make an unusually large brood.
On average there are two and only one might survive.
Their mother shows her experience.
Carefully she tears up and shares out
morsels in bite sized pieces.
With so many mouths to feed,
she has to leave the nest more often.
However, leaving the chicks alone is always a risk.
With steppe eagles, hunting is therefore
mostly the job on the male.
Ground squirrels are the eagle's favorite prey.
Yet those that live close by the nest are left alone.
It could be she's saving them till last.
Meanwhile, other neighbors are free to wander undisturbed.
Free to do as they like.
Saiga antelope, a true nomad.
No one can predict where they'll roam.
The mother eagle is relaxed.
She's seen it all before.
Saiga give birth to their young almost simultaneously.
A fawn is no bigger than a hare and would make easy prey.
Mothers have little time to nurse.
Within just hours, calves must be on their feet and moving.
Saiga are prodigious wanderers.
Herds like this can easily cover 60 miles in a day.
Demoiselle cranes are well acquainted
with breeding in open country.
They don't even make a nest.
A small depression will suffice.
The chick won't remain under the wing for long.
As soon as they can, they follow a parent into the steppe.
At this age, the demoiselle crane chick can walk,
but it cannot yet feed itself.
And so, it accepts tidbits;
tiny spiders, ants, grasshopper legs.
Both parents take turn to feed it.
A second chick hatches.
Alone in the blazing mid day heat,
it uses its last strength to free itself.
Spring heat on these steppes is merciless.
Moving south, the land dries out further
and tributaries grow smaller.
Many don't even reach the main river.
Instead, they run into vast salt flats in the middle
of nowhere, like Elton Lake on the border with Kazakhstan.
A desolate, almost lifeless world.
A land defined by water,
which has long since left it behind.
Sunlight sucks nearly all the moisture from the earth.
Leaving salty mud.
Saiga antelope scour these pans for fresh water.
Mothers still suckling their young have to drink more often.
Saiga can drink brackish water,
yet the salt concentration here is so high it's unpalatable.
As thirst rises, so does stress levels.
With no fresh water here,
the herd has no choice but to move on.
These ancient tracks can be seen for decades.
And so, the herd follows them like a compass.
100 miles away, clouds are gathering above the Volga.
A river this size creates it's own microclimate.
Wisps of cloud form over the cooler valley,
bringing the promise of rain.
Wind drives cloud masses out over the steppe.
In the afternoon heat, the demoiselle cranes continue
their search for small insects.
The second chick has caught up.
Now, it can feed with its sibling.
Rain brings welcome relief.
Yet it has dangers, too.
Adults can tolerate cold, but chicks are easily exposed
and are at risk of hypothermia.
With a days less reserves than its sibling,
the second chick is weakening.
The search for insects to feed her young
is becoming evermore urgent.
A break in the rain looks promising.
But the chick is perilously cold,
and if clouds don't disperse soon, its fate could be sealed.
The Volga is an ancient power.
For over five million years,
it has built new roots into the heart of the continent.
Ice ages and earthquakes have determined
the river's flow and course.
Even today, the land is shaped by the remains
of all the rivers.
The Volga has moved away long ago,
leaving salt flats, semi-deserts and sediment beds behind.
What once lay underwater is now at the mercy of heat,
frosts and the eternal winds.
Millions of tons of river sand are blown across the wastes.
There is no goal in sight.
Shapes change with the wind.
A toad-headed agama lizard;
perfectly adapted to life in this ever changing sand pole.
A ridge marks the boundaries of its territory.
An intruder.
This one is small, yet it could mean business.
Agitated tail wagging is a call to battle.
With a dash, the agama sees off the unwelcome stranger.
But only so far.
At close quarters, the lizards make themselves
big by flaunting their backs.
Whoever gives way will lose.
His dune is safe once again.
Time to get back to business.
Hunting.
A beetle could make a good meal.
Strangely, it doesn't seem alarmed.
Ground beetles are carnivorous,
and this one has powerful jaws.
To prevent being eaten, it aims for the agama's tongue.
But on his back, he's surely doomed.
A second wind and now the tables are turned.
The hunter becomes the hunted.
It takes all sizes to triumph
in the harsh world of the sands.
Today, this landscape known as Kalmykia,
is settled by descendants of the Mongol hordes.
In spring, farms stand empty.
Yet they are not all together abandoned.
Hoopoes favor these derelict places for their nests.
The steppes are rich in caterpillars and spiders.
The chicks' white beak stands out like a bullseye,
making feeding easier in the dark.
A large camel spider is a rare catch for the hoopoe.
But nothing is going to deter the hungry chick,
even if its eyes are a bit larger than its stomach.
Next door's haystack is a good roost
for the long-legged buzzard.
All that remains is to lay its eggs.
Even the farm buildings could be put to good use.
A delegation of rosy starlings is viewing a barn.
Looks good.
Time to move in.
The breaking news has reached the flock.
Soon enough, the barns are taken over.
Now, the squabbling for space will begin.
And after that, home building.
Rosy starlings are intolerant landlords.
It doesn't matter who got here first,
sparrows are evicted without notice.
New residents must bring their own furnishings.
Now, the building belongs to them.
Time to celebrate.
The steppes of Kalmykia were once an ancient seabed.
At the end of the last ice age,
the land was flooded by the Caspian Sea.
Even today, this place lies 30 meters below sea level.
As the waters receded, semi-deserts began to form.
Limans were all that remained.
Relics of an ancient delta
with thousands of saline gullies and lakes.
Rain has freshened the salty water.
Salvation for the thirsty herd.
This is the first time the young Saigas
have seen and tasted fresh water.
For a brief moment,
the waterhole appears as lush as an African oasis.
With her chick now grown much bigger,
the crane can enjoy this rare time of peace and plenty
in the Volga's harsh salt steppes.
The Saiga will drink and drink.
A wolf.
Wolves seldom visit water in daylight.
Normally, the Saiga would be prey,
but with no pack to help give chase,
this loner has no chance.
So, for the time being, he satisfies himself with a drink.
For the last 300 miles of its course,
the Volga has no more more major tributaries.
Smaller streams wander away, meandering along
the flood plains and back into the main current.
The few villages located along the banks are dwarfed
by the river valley; over 12 miles wide at this point.
A corsac fox, their homesteads are often farmland edges.
There's always something here for them.
These smaller relatives of red foxes are hardly taller
than the short steppe grasses they inhabit.
Pups gain their independence at a young age,
and go off to seek fortune providing for themselves.
For a corsac fox, that means hunting insects.
Grasshoppers and beetles are abundant,
frequently right under your nose.
The siblings will always have a bolt-hole close to hand.
Corsac foxes often move burrows
and dig numerous alternative homes in the steppe.
As if from thin air,
flying brigades make their landing on the mound.
Shelducks prefer to breed underground,
and are specialists in home invasion.
They're much larger than the tiny owners,
and they want the burrow.
Is there still someone home?
Care is advisable when investigating a foxhole.
Ladies first, the gander stands guard.
Will she come back again?
Nobody's home, the burrow is just right.
What fox worth its salt lets a duck take its home?
One of them will have to give ground.
They quack, but don't take flight.
Reinforcements are close at hand.
They're a lot bigger,
but thankfully not suited to life in a burrow.
Playing is much more their thing.
A tight spot for the little one.
The cows enjoy the foxes bastions.
A cool breeze here drives away biting flies.
Time has come to make the jump.
The open steppe awaits.
Corsacs are loners.
Sooner or later, each will go its separate way,
yet the bond will remain between these siblings.
They play and learn together.
Each keeps an eye out for the other.
Every encounter could be their last.
For now, it still looks a little undecided.
Time to leave.
High water on the Volga.
Over the last few miles, side streams fill and create
an Amazon like oasis within the baron landscape.
The river has traversed the Russian
heartland for over 2,000 miles.
Not far to go now.
Finally, the Volga branches out into the huge delta,
as it readies itself to meet the Caspian Sea.
Astrakhan, once a major hub on the Silk Road,
is the final city along the Volga's course.
At this point, the river divides up.
Even the waterways that branch off
from the main source can easily carry ocean liners.
Russia's Caspian Sea Fleet is based at Astrakhan.
From here, hundreds of canals funnel out
to carry the Volga to the sea.
Stranded cutters lie along the former shore line.
Today, they make breeding islands in the marshlands.
Sea eagles have naturally taken up roost on the bridge.
Other visitors must get to grips with railings.
Most stay for just a short stopover before flying on.
For fish hunters, the shallow salt water is like a goldmine.
The young sea eagles waiting on the top deck,
have had more than their fill.
However, there's always room for a little extra.
Especially if the fish is served right to the beak.
For three months they've been enjoying this sun terrace,
and it seems they're in no hurry to leave.
And why should they?
This is a perfect luxury liner,
a Noah's Ark in the treeless expanse of the reed delta.
Even wild boar can make a living here.
They spend the majority of the year among the rushes.
The driest places are floating islands
made of rotting stems.
All basic supplies are ensured.
Reeds grow everywhere, proffering nutritious sprouts.
In the muddy reaches,
they find snails, fish eggs, and roots.
Wild boar have become reed pigs.
There is just one time in the year
which is rather unpleasant for them.
The sow is concerned.
There's something in the air.
Migratory locusts.
Over the last few weeks, they've eaten the steppe bare.
The delta is the only place
where fresh green growth remains.
A swarm of biblical proportions.
Miles long, this airborne carpet numbers
in the hundreds of millions.
They hatched just a few weeks ago on the Caspian steppes,
and have devoured all vegetation on their way.
Now, the swarm is going after the last green available;
the reed in the Volga Delta.
Hungry locusts can consume more leaves in a day
then all the wild boar in one year.
Once more, they infest the muddy reed belts.
Despite breeding en masse, the majority of their billions
of eggs sink into the delta to become fodder for fish.
For the parents, the same fate awaits.
The swarm reaches its end in the delta
and here it is transformed into tons of nutrients
for fish nurseries in the Caspian Sea.
Just one of the phenomena that make the Volga Delta
so breathtakingly rich and a bird's paradise.
In ways only mother nature can invent,
the Volga reclaims ever more land from the sea.
On a front over 125 miles long, vast quantities of water
and rich sediments flow into the Caspian.
Some 250 cubic kilometers a year.
Finding streams of sediment, the plants send down roots,
holding the mud in place to enable their circular growth.
Islands of reeds, which are linked
in particularly exotic ways.
Here, the Volga sands give birth
to the most northerly lotus fields on earth.
Not every year is so lavish as this.
It's a wonder of nature that the water
for this tropical performance originates
in the frozen forests of the Russian north.
Beyond the lotus fields, the Caspian shelf begins.
Pelicans glide in majestically
from their fishing grounds back into the delta.
Their colonies lie obscured at the edge of the reed belt.
A three and a half meter wingspan takes up a lot of space.
Pelicans may be elegant in the air,
but are not specialists on the ground.
Landing on someone else's chicks
can get you into trouble with the owners.
These young pelicans are four weeks old
and need fresh fish at least twice a day.
Close by, non breeders practice communal fishing.
Their results leave something to be desired.
The proper schools of fish needed
are only found on the open sea.
Young pelicans know exactly when to beg,
but getting a meal is far from straight forward,
and there's only room for one at a time.
A pelican's stomach is pitch black.
The fish is deep down in the gullet.
One last dive into the depths.
This portion was actually meant for two.
Now, it's clear why pelicans
have such an expansive throat sac.
For the sibling, only scant pickings remain.
One last check.
And as it turns out, the adult has tucked away
a hidden reserve after all.
Yet, this wild carp is too big for the youngster.
There's only one thing to do.
The three pounder slips back into mother's belly.
It's just not his day.
The inland delta, just as it reaches its end,
the Volga creates a spectacular marshland.
Twice the size of Africa's legendary Okavango Delta,
on a par with the American Everglades
or the Sundarbans of India and Bangladesh.
This is the largest reed delta on the planet.
Where the reeds end, only ghost ships remain.
Old Soviet Navy boats covered in a patina of guano and rust.
A vital outpost for fish hunting cormorants.
After a 2,200 mile journey,
the Volga finally unites with the Caspian Sea.
An ocean created by a river.
A landlocked sea larger than the UK and island together.
It's the end of an epic voyage.
But there is still one more story to be told.
The ancestors of these Caspian seals once lived
in the Arctic Ocean, thousands of miles away.
Ice ages and glaciers isolated their forebears from the sea.
Bound by the Volga, they followed the river downstream,
all the way to the Caspian.
Together with the seals of Lake Baikal,
these are the only freshwater seals in existence,
and they live exclusively here.
After winter, during the malt,
almost the entire global population of Caspian seals
gather here on this warm northerly shelf.
For just a few weeks,
thousands of them squeeze onto this tiny sand bank.
That they are here in Asia's remote interior,
is thanks to the whims of a mighty river.
Once, in forgotten times, they swam into this river,
which to them seemed like a sea.
And at its end, a sea is what one truly special river
has given them; the Volga.