Surprisingly wild: the valley of the river Leine. From the fairytale
Marienburg Castle to the Royal Gardens of Hanover. A diverse countryside where
wildlife thrives. A winter morning in
northern Germany. European bison have been living
in this forest since 1928. The continent's largest land mammal
is bred here, to save it from extinction. Once the kings of Hanover
and the German Emperor used this area as their
hunting grounds. An impressive rock wall has
encircled the range for 200 years. 16 kilometres long – a unique
cultural monument. The entrance to the forest
is equally impressive. Around Springe Castle, the emperor's hunts took place
until as late as 1912. The woodland lies in a hilly area, only 20 kilometres from
the city of Hanover. Some of the many streams
criss-crossing the region, flow into the Leine. During the first nights of spring, female fire salamanders make their
way to the spawning grounds. Once the salamanders' poison was used in attempts on
the lives of noblemen. They decorated the coats
of arms of French kings and are symbols for both
fire and cold! Common toads also come out of
their winter hiding places. During mating season, male toads
grab at anything that moves. Maybe it's the warning colours, or the poisonous skin secretion
of the salamander ... Finally the male toad gets it. She will never be his mate. The female salamander reaches the
stream without the pesky toad. She looks for a site where the
water flows more quietly. As soon as she has located
a suitable site, it all happens very quickly. Unlike most other amphibians, salamanders give birth
to live young. The egg sacks release small larvae. Something that has hardly
ever been filmed. The mother has given birth
to three young. During the following nights, she will return, bearing
up to 70 larvae. Just a few kilometres away, the Leine passes in front of
a romantic backdrop. A castle straight from a fairytale. The Marienburg - often compared favourably to
the famous 'Neuschwanstein'. King George V gave it to
'his' Marie as a gift a good 160 years ago. Below the castle,
in the Leine Valley, the royal love finds
its wild equivalent. Mute swans. In Great Britain they have enjoyed
royal status since 1186 – even now all wild swans legally
belong to the queen. The courtship follows
a strict ritual. Movement is perfectly synchronized before any mating takes place. If a rival turns up, all etiquette
goes out the window. The pair does not tolerate any
other swans in its territory. Raised up feathers
are a clear signal. A duel is inevitable. The territorial male dominates
and chases the intruder away. The courtship of the swans is not just a symbol of beauty
and faithfulness – it also stands for an idyll, more
and more of which is being lost. People have closed in on nature. More than half of the region is
covered by intensively farmed land. Bushes and hedgerows –
almost nowhere to be seen. Where they grow, they offer
hiding places for an animal that was once brought to central
Europe by the Romans: the pheasant. Hedges provide cover
from predators. But pheasants also like
the big stage: Fields and farmlands where they
mark their territories. If an unfamiliar male
enters the area, there is no way around a fight. Threatening poses serve to
intimidate the opponent. Take a step back and you lose. Encounters like this
are the exception. Pheasants have become scarce
in the Leine Valley. Variably structured land
with places to hide – that's what many species require
for their survival. In the former emperor's
hunting territory, the forest floor is warmed
by the spring sun. For the piglets it is the signal
to risk a first excursion. The young wild boars
are two weeks old. They explore everything that they
can reach with their snouts. Their mother already left
the sounder before giving birth to
the piglets alone. In just a few days she will rejoin
the extended family with her new offspring. Until then, the sow shows her young
where to find the best food. But for now, her teats are still
the centre of their universe, and a necessary rich
source of energy. When the sow has had enough, the forest offers enough variety
for the piglets. While playing, the young ones learn
some of the most important lessons of their lives. But when the mother calls, everything else is
quickly forgotten. Early on, a hierarchy forms
among the suckling piglets. The mother tolerates no wrangling. Every piglet knows where to find
its 'own' teat. Drinking a lot, growing fast
and exploring the forest – that is the piglet's world. Spring finally brings the sun
and warmer temperatures. First flowers provide
splashes of colour. Fumewort makes a start. Soon afterwards ramsons bloom,
releasing an intensive odour, giving the plant its other name: wild garlic. As soon as enough flowers bloom, the banquet is declared open. After winter, the bumblebee queen is the solitary
survivor of a whole colony. Fumewort offers plenty of nectar
at the bottom its calyx. However, the bumblebee can't reach the sweet
meal with its short proboscis. But she knows a trick or two: she bites a hole at the base of the
calyx and steals the nectar – without pollinating the flower. Afterwards, she transports
her treasure to her underground kingdom. Here, she has built
barrel-shaped cells for nectar, pollen, and her brood. The first generation
has already hatched. The workers diligently carry
pollen packages on their legs, carefully stowing them away. They provide food and constantly
build new cells. Over the summer, the bumblebee colony can swell
to around 500 individuals. The much larger queen
stays in the nest. She is the only member of the
colony that's able to lay eggs. The valuable offspring is sealed in
by her personally. Afterwards, the workers take care
of the eggs and larvae. Every bumblebee knows exactly what
to do and where it needs to be. When the young ones hatch, they are
soft and colourless. Shortly after, they're already
heading towards the exit, to leave the nest to collect nectar
like the other workers. Their first excursion
is something special. The young bumblebees dance above
the entrance for a moment. In this way they memorize
the nest's location. From now on, they will always
find their way back. Until 250 years ago, the hills were
characterized by pastoral forests. Cattle and goats ate
the entire undergrowth. Often only ancient oaks remained. On 20 hectares, conservationists
are now turning back the clock. With the help of Scottish
Highland Cattle they're recreating the
species-rich forests. A hotspot – also for amphibians. This stream is the hunting range
of young fire salamanders. Amphipods are not yet
on their menu option. Smaller prey can also found
in the cold, clear water. They just need to be quick enough. Everything that can be
subdued is eaten. The caddis fly larvae
are out of reach. They live in self-built tubes that protect them from the
voracious salamanders. The young amphibians spend up to
six months in the little stream, before they leave as
fully grown adults, disappearing into the undergrowth just as their mothers did. Early summer in the Leine Valley. On the lakes, the swan offspring
have seen the light of day. Not yet as elegant as the parents – more cute and fluffy. Both adults take care of the young. Sometimes the chicks hitch a ride
on the backs of the adults, taking a little rest. It's the best way to get to
the best feeding areas safely and quickly. The adults kick down with
their large webbed feet, swirling up food for
their offspring. Mute swans mainly feed
on vegetation, but also take on snails,
worms and mussels. For almost 160 years, the Marienburg Castle has
overlooked the Leine Valley. The Welfs, Europe's oldest dynasty that is interwoven with
the British royal family, used it as their summer residence. King George V ordered
its construction over a period of 10 years. Unfortunately, his queen, Marie,
only enjoyed this offering briefly: After just a year in the castle she was forced to flee
from the Prussians, ending up in exile in Austria. During that time, the world
was a divided place: Royalty was enthroned on the top
of the hills, while the common people
lived in the valleys. The farmers maintained
their customs - like hunting with raptors. The large peregrine falcon
was reserved for nobility. The peasantry had to be satisfied
with its smaller relative, the common kestrel. Even today, the ‘poor man's falcon' often lives under the roofs
of farmhouses. On the lookout for their favourite
prey, field mice, kestrels have perfected hovering – seemingly hanging in the air,
scanning the ground below. This method is far more
energy-intensive than hunting from a perch. But it is worth it, common kestrels
are successful hunters. A kestrel requires
three mice a day. But now the female hunts only
on rare occasions. Soon the male will need to provide
a double ration of food. His partner has laid four eggs. From now on, she will hardly
leave the nest for a month. Common kestrels don't have it easy
in the Leine Valley. Over half of the area
is agricultural land. Most fields are under
intensive cultivation. Along the river it
is more variable. Flower strips planted by farmers
attract insects – among them also the workers
from the bumblebee colony. When the flowers of the
common poppy open, they are the first to collect
the nectar and pollen. And the kestrels? Waiting under the farmhouse
roof are four hungry beaks. The chicks are three days old. Until they fledge, they need
to be fed for a month. For the male, this is the start
of a strenuous time. From now on he will have to be
on permanent lookout for prey. Some rodents, like the common vole, have experienced population
explosions in the dry spring. They live underground
in family groups, well protected from hunters
like kestrels. Between their bolt-holes, they have
trodden little paths. Mouse urine has dried out
the grass – these are the signs the kestrel
is looking for. Every two hours, the mice
get hungry. To feed on herbs, grass,
clover and dandelions, they need to come to the surface. This is the moment the kestrel
has been waiting for. But not every hunt is successful. Finally – the call they
have longed for! The chicks now also wake up,
loudly demanding their food. The female receives the mouse
outside the nest. During the first days the male is
not tolerated near the offspring. The older they get, the
more food they require. A family with four chicks
eats 18 voles a day. This, however, is no threat
to the rodent population. After the meal, it's time
for a nap. The chicks are growing rapidly. Already, the mother can't get
all her young under her wings to keep them warm. South of Hanover, the Leine River is squeezed into an
artificial bed in many areas. Little space remains for nature. This only changes around
15 kilometres from Hanover. From here on the 'Old Leine' river
bed winds through the country, parallel to the Leine. The nature reserve is an important
habitat for many animals - above and below the water. 14 fish species thrive here. The silvery sunbleak
are the smallest. The tiny carp relatives
feed on plankton, but also mosquitoes live in danger
when they are around. The larvae just below the water
surface are welcome prey. When they hunt, sunbleak leave
the safety of their swarm, shooting up and then quickly
heading down again. In stretches where the river is
still in its natural state, the fish attract the attention
of a lightning fast predator. It is so stunning that it is sometimes called
'the flying jewel'. For Roman and Greek poets,
kingfishers were enchanted queens. But it is likely that the colours
are just good camouflage: From above, predators struggle to see
the blue back against the water, while the fish can hardly make out
the orange belly against the sky. The kingfisher misses nothing. Water ripples give away
movement below. After stunning the fish, the bird
swallows it, head first, ensuring no scales get caught
in the throat. Between the plants, a male sunbleak
watches over its clutch, tirelessly fanning its offspring
with fresh oxygen-rich water. It guards the valuable eggs, shining like silver pearls
on a chain. After 10 days, the tiny
youngsters hatch. Sunbleak and kingfisher rely on
natural river banks. Here, the hunter from above
finds enough prey. The kingfisher's hunt lasts
less than a second – its precision can only truly
be appreciated, when the action is seen 40-times
slower than its actual speed! A masterly performance. Even in the nearby city of Hanover, the Leine is still
surprisingly wild. Here lives an animal that had disappeared from the area
for centuries. Its wooden lodge leaves no doubt: the beaver is back! The beaver mother left
the lodge at dusk. Purely vegetarian, beavers search
for juicy herbs, but also eat the bark of trees
and young branches. An adult beaver needs
1,000 calories a day. It needs to be active
for most of the night. Around the city of Hanover alone, six beaver families have
taken up residence. Around 150 animals have moved
into the region since 2005. A true success story for
nature conservation. The young beavers only leave
the lodge in the evenings. Grooming is very important – for big and small. For a long time, beavers were
hunted for their pelts. Their densely packed hairs form
a fantastic insulating layer. The catholic church declared them
to be fish – this meant they could be
eaten during Lent – not only by monks. This nearly caused
their extinction. Today they are strictly protected. From the beavers, the Royal Gardens of Herrenhausen
are just a stone's throw away. The 'Great Garden' is among Europe's most important
baroque gardens. Its construction started in 1665, since then it has often
been restructured. Special sections such as the
'rose garden' were developed. Summer in Hanover begins with the rose bloom in the gardens
of the Herrenhausen Palace. In the Leine Valley, the mute swan
offspring have made great progress: grey balls of feathers have grown
into handsome teenagers. Until the coming Spring they will
stay together, only then taking on the elegant
white of their parents. Many animals survive the summer
in the shade of the forest. Along the Bison Park wall, ferns
fight their way through tiny gaps. The kings of the forest,
the mighty bison, begin the day with an
extensive sand bath. Grooming, that repels parasites
and pesky flies... ...at least for a short while. The herd has grown – this calf
is just a week old. The higher the sun rises, the more its willingness
for action disappears. The only choice is to wait
patiently for cooler days. There is a lot more excitement
around the kestrel nest. The young are about to fledge. Their parents no longer
bring them food. Instead they eat where they
can be seen by their offspring. If it doesn't want to starve, the
young kestrel now needs to fly. Tirelessly the adults entice them
with a promising meal. The first flight ends
in the nearest tree, but a start has been made. The rest is a matter of practice – to become as perfect
as the parents. Under the leafy roof in and around
the Bison Park, it stays bearable, even in
the midday heat. The sounder of wild boar is searching for fresh,
juicy shoots and herbs. The piglets have grown quickly. Some time ago, they've changed
to solid food. Despite the shade, the family has
only one thing on its mind: off to the pool. The pigs regularly visit
puddles and pools. Wallowing not only cools them down. Water and mud penetrate
deep into the fur. This ensures that the animals get
rid of their annoying parasites. The rest of the day is spent by
the family, sleeping in the shade. The lake-dotted landscape
in the south of Hanover attracts a rarity. The Eurasian wryneck. It prefers the drier areas
between the lakes. Like its relatives,
the woodpeckers, the wryneck has a long
sticky tongue, to collect ants and their pupae. Throughout Germany, these birds
have become rare. Around the Leine,
on the other hand, their population is increasing. The first days of late summer
bring fog. It gives the region
its very own magic. The bison idyll is deceptive. The little herd is restless
and gathers around. The animals are nervous. A young female puts the rank order
to the test. It's something the leader
of the herd cannot tolerate. Suddenly the whole herd
is on the move. Bison can run as fast as horses. The calves must take care not to
get caught up between the giants. Status fights like these are
rare among European bison. When one 350 kilogram body slams
into another, it gets serious. For today, a show of strength
is enough. The senior cow has consolidated
her position. Autumn in the hills near
the Leine Valley. The beeches in the Bison Park show their last burst of colour
of the year. For the wild boar the
breeding season begins. The first cold days in late autumn
are the boar's starting signal. Through the forest spreads the
smell of testosterone... The sows notice the boar,
long before he approaches. He wants to impress at the show. Therefore he wallows in the mud and
sprinkles himself with urine. The smell makes him irresistible
to the females. Jaw whetting is another
imposing feature: constant chewing produces
foamy saliva. It's meant to keep opponents away: therefore he rubs the saliva
onto a tree to signal that a tough adversary
is in charge here. The males are awe-inspiring: up to 1.8 meters long, weighing
as much as 200 kilograms. The proximity of the boar causes
restlessness in the sounder. At first, the giant doesn't seem
to impress the females. They ignore him. The sows are the ones that determine the time
and place of mating. He approaches cautiously,
presenting his flank. Suddenly a second boar approaches. Now he needs to defend
his position. The intruder gives up. The rank order has been clarified. The victor returns to the females.
During the coming weeks, he will mate with as many sows
in the group as possible. For the boars, this is the hardest
time of the year. The mating season stretches over
three months into January, only then does calm return
to the forest. The wildlife along the Leine
is full of surprises... ...just like the region
where they live. With glittering flying jewels... ...and majestic giants. Regardless of the season, the valley of the 'Romantic River'
has a lot to offer – a fairytale castle included.
