NARRATOR: Deep in the South of France, where the Pyrenees rise,
stands one of Europe's most ancient
and imposing fortresses...
...Carcassonne.
For 2000 years, it was a center of wealth and culture...
...a prosperity born of nature's bounty.
In this hilltop fortress,
a succession of rulers seized power.
They grew rich reaping the land's abundant offerings.
A new religious movement inspired by nature
and devoted to purity blossomed here...
...and was crushed.
And the creatures that were here
before the first stone was laid,
they too would see their fortunes rise and fall
with the shifting tides of Carcassonne.
(Bird squawks)
NARRATOR: In the sun-drenched South of France,
the Castle of Carcassonne looks out over a fertile valley.
To the south, the Pyrenees mountains
guard the Spanish border.
The River Aude brings fresh mountain water
to the city's edge,
then flows on to the Mediterranean Sea
40 miles east.
With waters teeming with fish
and a supply of precious sea salt close at hand,
little wonder so many tried to claim
this paradise for themselves.
With each new conquest, the former rulers were banished.
Those out of step with the current order
became targets of persecution.
This was true of Carcassonne's human inhabitants...
...and its animals.
At one time, the eagle owl had free reign over this land.
(Owl squawks)
NARRATOR: The first human settlers came in the 6th century BC.
As the population grew in Carcassonne,
the owls lost their natural command of this region.
Luckily they could take refuge in a fortress of their own.
The Massif de la Clape lies just to the east.
Deep gorges slice through this rugged mountain range.
Caves and crevices abound,
perfect hideouts for a renegade raptor.
(Birds tweet)
NARRATOR: During the day, a female retreats here
to digest the night's kill.
Then it regurgitates the indigestible fur and bones
in a tidy pellet.
As evening draws closer,
the female begins to scan her territory.
No movement escapes her eyes.
(Owl hoots)
NARRATOR: Nearby, her offspring
has ventured out of the nest.
He can already fly and kill his own dinner,
but his mother will keep feeding him for half a year more.
And with him so young, she's quick to go on the defensive.
She'll guard her territory against any intruder,
regardless of the threat.
A wild boar has gotten too close.
But there's no use attacking a 200-pound boar.
Better to use scare tactics and a little optical illusion
to appear bigger than she is.
(Boar grunts)
NARRATOR: The owl's nocturnal stealth
has always served it well on the hunt,
but elicited fear with the people of the Dark Ages.
Night was when the Devil awoke.
Any animal that did the same was clearly in league with him.
Men feared this mysterious creature.
Its upright stance and wide eyes
gave it an eerily human look,
and its uncanny night vision seemed almost supernatural.
During the Middle Ages,
people nailed owls to their front doors,
a sinister talisman to protect them from the dark forces.
In this time of superstition, the Catholic Church dominated.
Anyone who strayed from religious convention
invited persecution and harsh punishment.
(Bird caws)
NARRATOR: But in the 12th century,
a small religious sect converged on Carcassonne.
They were strict vegetarians,
upholding the radical belief that animals, too, had souls.
They called themselves the Pure Ones or the Good Men.
The church called them "Cathars."
They were Christians who didn't just preach
chastity, humility, and modesty;
in contrast to the decadent Catholic clergymen,
they actually practiced it.
They had the audacity to be different, out in the open.
And they rejected the worldly wealth and power
of the Catholic Church.
Such sincere, humble faith and practice
was a breath of fresh air for the common folk,
who increasingly flocked to the order.
Carcassonne Castle became a Cathar stronghold.
The Church was determined to crush this threat to authority.
On the morning of August 1st, 1209,
an army of 30,000 formed on the banks of the River Aude
beneath the fortified city.
The Cathars' safe haven became a death trap.
Long before religious feuds,
even before stone walls, there was the land.
It seemed to invite all life to blossom.
Today a slice of this Eden remains.
North of Carcassonne stands the Montagne Noire,
the Black Mountain.
Its leafy northern slopes remain a haven for animals
that were once hunted by the castle's inhabitants.
(♪♪♪)
NARRATOR: Wild boar live in matriarchal groups called "sounders."
There are no adult males, just sows and their young.
(Boars grunt)
NARRATOR: Two-month-old baby boars
are already learning to forage,
which can spark piglet rivalry.
(Boars grunt)
NARRATOR: Adolescents aren't above bullying to get what they want.
The little ones still have mother's milk as a fall back.
The piglets need to get serious about finding their own food;
mother will cut them off soon.
They'd much rather keep lounging in the sun.
But they know they'd better follow where mother leads.
She and the other adults know where the best foraging is.
(Boars squeal)
NARRATOR: Provisions are plentiful here,
but the animals have a problem...
...mosquitoes.
In the damp forest, they can be a real plague.
(Mosquitos buzz)
NARRATOR: Luckily, relief is close at hand.
A layer of caked-on mud
adds a bit of armor against the assault.
Competition for the best wallowing holes is stiff.
(Boars grunt)
NARRATOR: Wild boar males live most of the year as solitary bachelors.
When they get together, it's usually to fight
over breeding rights.
(Boars grunt)
NARRATOR: Tusks are fearsome weapons,
able to tear through the tough hide of a rival.
Human hunters learned to fear them, too.
Wild boar was a staple
for Carcassonne's earliest inhabitants.
Long before the Cathars of the Middle Ages,
the Tectosages, a Celtic Tribe,
claimed this land in the Iron Age.
They cultivated the fertile valleys
and even mined the mountain for precious metals.
But the abundant blessings of Carcassonne
would soon attract the attention
of an imperial power hungry for new lands.
(Horses gallop)
NARRATOR: In the year 120 BC, Rome invaded.
Row upon row of legionnaires
marched into the valley in strict formation.
(Horses marching)
NARRATOR: The fierce Celtic tribes were no match for Roman discipline.
But what the Romans conquered, they upgraded.
They began by connecting Carcassonne to the world.
One stone at a time, they built the Via Aquitania,
a 250-mile road
linking the Mediterranean Sea to the Atlantic Ocean.
Merchants had to pay high tolls on goods
that moved along Roman roads and the young city got rich quick.
The Romans imported barrel upon barrel
of their favorite beverage, wine.
The people of southern France soon became wine enthusiasts,
and citizens started to grow their own vineyards
outside the city.
Land cultivated for the essential French beverage
created a habitat for a famous French delicacy - escargots.
Brown garden snails thrive among the vines.
The snails are hermaphrodites.
Each can produce both sperm and eggs.
But they still have to find a partner.
Breeding moves at a snail's pace.
The slimy deed can last up to 12 hours.
(♪♪♪)
NARRATOR: A snail's genitals are located on the back of its head,
and that's not the strangest part.
Each partner produces a sperm packet,
which they exchange, so each one fertilizes the other.
Next, each digs a small hole in the ground
where it lays the fertilized eggs.
In a few weeks, the tiny snails hatch, complete with shells.
They're no bigger than a grain of rice
and their vital organs are visible
through the transparent shells.
Soon they're ready to do what snails do,
making themselves at home in the vineyards of Carcassonne.
A brisk trade in wine along the new Roman road
brought vitality to the city.
But Carcassonne's true lifeblood
would forever run outside the walls.
The River Aude, clear water from the Pyrenees,
sustained the Celtic Tectosages and the Romans that followed.
It wasn't just a water supply;
the river was a vital trade artery.
By day, traders brought wool and pelts
from the Black Mountain.
By night, smugglers guided their boats in the dark
looking to bypass the Roman toll-keepers
on the roads leading into the city.
Then, as now,
the river was the center of Carcassonne's wildlife.
Grey herons live year-round in colonies above the riverbanks.
They spruce up last year's nests with fresh twigs.
(Herons squawk)
NARRATOR: While some are still busy mating,
others have already laid their eggs.
Brooding is painstaking work.
The female constantly repositions the eggs
to make sure they don't get too cold or too warm.
The pair must guard its little fortress from invaders.
A red kite is looking for eggs or chicks to snatch.
(Red kite calls)
NARRATOR: The heron couple mounts a coordinated defense.
One guards their precious eggs.
The other launches a counter-strike
against the attacker.
(Heron squawks)
NARRATOR: The enemy vanquished, the herons can get back
to the important work of fishing.
The River Aude is Carcassonne's great provider.
The water spills cold and clear, and enriched with oxygen
from its turbulent journey down from Pyrenees.
Ideal conditions for trout.
To feed, a trout always faces upstream
and waits for its food to arrive on the current.
It keeps its eyes trained upwards for prey.
Hatching insects emerge from the water to spread their wings.
(Insect buzzes)
NARRATOR: But some linger a moment too long.
Hunting is risky.
A trout would rather hide among the rocks.
Feeding in open water leaves it exposed,
but the bugs at the surface are worth the risk.
The herons are quick to seize this opportunity.
They've now got chicks to feed.
Parents take turns fishing.
Back at the nest they willingly cough up their catch.
Chicks gorge on as much fish as their parents can bring.
(Chicks squawk)
(♪♪♪)
NARRATOR: The River Aude sustains the herons year after year.
And it sustained Roman Carcassonne for 500 years.
But by the 3rd century, their city faced wave after wave
of Visigoths and other invaders from the north.
(Horses marching)
NARRATOR: The Romans built the innermost of the two walls
that ring the castle as a bulwark
against these Germanic tribes.
The towers were built close together
so that each could defend the other.
They built large windows,
with enough space to throw spears at the enemies below.
(Sound of fighting)
NARRATOR: Their walls were strong,
but the Roman Empire was crumbling from within,
and the Visigoths finally took their prize.
They would hold the city for 300 years...
...until the 8th Century,
when the riches of Visigoth Carcassonne lured a new invader.
Fresh from their conquest of Iberia,
the Muslim Saracens were set on occupying present-day France.
Unable to breach the fortified walls of the city,
they went on to sack the vulnerable villages nearby.
But they never lost sight of the real prize.
And after three years of trying,
the Saracens captured Carcassonne in 725.
(Horses marching)
NARRATOR: The Arab invaders brought their favorite pastime
with them - falconry.
Wild falcons were regulars at Carcassonne
when the Saracens arrived.
The wild birds mingled with their captive cousins
on the battlements.
Then, 30 years later, they watched the invaders leave,
forced out by the Catholic king of the Franks from the north.
The fortress walls remain a favorite roost
for small falcons called kestrels.
Every year, high in the north tower of the Porte Narbonnaise,
a kestrel couple nests in a room with a view.
Word has spread.
The ancient towers are now an avian hotspot.
Pigeons have moved into the neighborhood.
Relations between the two are surprisingly cordial.
But the resident crows can't stand the kestrels.
The crows know the kestrels are predators
and stage preemptive attacks.
(Birds squawk)
NARRATOR: Of course, kestrels have families to care for, too.
(Chicks chirp)
NARRATOR: The mother keeps her new chicks warm
while the father's out hunting and fighting off crows.
The rolling farmland around Carcassonne
supplies the falcons with good bounty.
Most of their prey runs on four legs.
The kestrels have binocular vision
and eyes far sharper than a human's.
Balanced on the wind,
they hang in position scanning for mice.
(Bird cries)
NARRATOR: The falcon beelines back to the tower...
...dinner gripped in his talons.
The mother takes the handoff
and distributes it to eager beaks.
(Chicks chirp)
NARRATOR: A chick's life revolves around eating and sleeping.
In the blink of an eye,
they go from feeding frenzy to food coma.
In the Middle Ages, the tides of power once again turned.
Carcassonne fell into the hands of a powerful French dynasty
called the Trencavels.
They were politically savvy and, through shifting alliances,
would rule over Carcassonne for more than 300 years.
Both city and fortress expanded under their rule.
They constructed the lavish Chateau Comtal,
the Count's Castle,
and on the walls installed a fresco
immortalizing the family's greatest exploit: the Crusades.
In 1118, Bernard Aton Trencavel joined the crusade
to fight the Moors in the Holy Land.
Crusades were a costly undertaking,
funded by the wealthiest of families.
The Trencavels owed much of their fortune
to the natural riches of Southern France.
Carcassonne lies just 40 miles
from the Mediterranean Sea.
The Salinas, the broad salt flats of the coast,
made the family rich.
In the Middle Ages, salt was a valuable food preservative,
in high demand throughout Europe.
The very word "salary" comes from the Latin "salarium,"
the salt ration allotted to Roman soldiers
as part of their pay.
Today the Salinas offer
a different kind of rare commodity:
a precious brooding site for seabirds
on a coast with little refuge left.
Thousands of migratory birds, many that winter in Africa,
spend summers on the Mediterranean.
They're all on a mission
befitting the history of this region:
grab a piece of ground, and hold it.
They just lay their eggs on the sandy ground.
Constant vigilance keeps predators away from the eggs.
But aggressive neighbors are a bigger problem.
(Birds squawk)
NARRATOR: The avocets and common terns
have been battling over brooding grounds
in a feud that's spanned centuries.
(Birds squawk)
NARRATOR: At least there's no contest over hunting territory.
The avocets trawl the shallow flats for crustaceans,
and the terns fish the rolling surf.
(♪♪♪)
NARRATOR: A male tern is careful not to eat his entire catch.
He saves one enticing morsel as bait...
...for a female.
Wooed in minutes, mated in seconds.
They don't bother with a nest,
as that would be a dead giveaway.
Instead the female tern hides her clutch in plain sight,
with the help of a perfectly camouflaged egg.
Meanwhile, the avocet chicks have already hatched.
The little one tries to follow its father,
but it's still weak and unsteady.
It's a dangerous time.
A mobile chick is harder to guard than an egg.
Gulls are always looking for an opportunity.
(Birds squawk)
NARRATOR: Luckily an avocet parent doesn't have to stray far
to find tiny shrimp and crabs.
With the father close at hand,
the chicks can focus on learning to walk and wade.
(Chicks chirp)
(♪♪♪)
(Flamingoes cry)
NARRATOR: The Salinas are also an ideal spot for flamingoes.
So perfect are conditions here
that they don't even bother migrating in the winter.
Why travel to Africa when you can have year-round beach-font
in the South of France?
(♪♪♪)
NARRATOR: The 12th-century peasants who gathered salt on the Salinas
lived in grinding poverty.
The fruits of their labor went to powerful families,
like the Trencavels in Carcassonne.
In turn, the Catholic Church levied heavy taxes
and tithes on one and all.
The Church amassed vast wealth and power
that no ruling family could match.
But there were more subtle threats to its authority.
By the 11th century, itinerant preachers appeared,
denouncing the worldly wealth of the Church.
(Footsteps)
NARRATOR: These were devout men of faith.
Their humility and frugality
struck a chord with the common people.
The so-called Cathar movement began to gather steam.
Raimond Roger Trencavel
was Viscount at Carcassonne at the time.
Though a professed Catholic,
he admired the Cathars' ascetic lifestyle
and allowed them to continue teaching.
Pope Innocent III was outraged.
He called for a crusade to crush the heresy at Carcassonne.
On July 28th, 1209,
the Pope's army arrived at the castle walls.
The terrified citizens took refuge
within the fortified city.
(People scream)
NARRATOR: But the southern stronghold had a fatal flaw.
Though the river Aude flowed just below the fortress,
the wells inside the city dried up in the summer.
Carcassonne was only a refuge
for those who could withstand thirst.
It was a familiar challenge to a particular castle resident.
The Moorish gecko takes its name
from the North African desert,
but it's no stranger to southern Europe.
It thrives in heat and drought.
This robust reptile can go several weeks
without a drop to drink.
In the heat of the day, it tucks into cracks and crevices.
Reptiles can't sweat.
If the heat is too intense, they pant like a dog.
(Gecko pants)
NARRATOR: After a chilly night, the gecko heads into the sunlight
for a warming bask.
The gecko's enemies are quick to take advantage
of its need to sunbathe.
Like the army that besieged Carcassonne's thirsty residents,
successful attackers look to capitalize
on any vulnerability.
And when the gecko is molting, it's double jeopardy.
As it sloughs its skin, its vision goes cloudy.
House cats slink along the castle walls
looking for lizards in the open.
A gecko's spiky tail is its last line of defense,
designed to snap off if grabbed.
A smoother replacement tail
is a sure sign of a seasoned veteran...
...too clever to be caught a second time.
Moorish geckos are hunters in their own right,
though they do their stalking at night.
They've adapted well
to the changing landscape of the castle,
and have long figured out that lamps attract moths.
Their fingers and toes are equipped with suction cups
that give them sure footing on almost any surface.
A cold-blooded gecko can't afford the energy
to actively chase after its prey.
But it has endless patience.
Eventually, an insect will land...
...close enough for the kiss of death.
The Middle Ages, also called the Dark Ages,
were an era of religious oppression, war, and pestilence.
It was also - quite literally - a time of dank, gloomy interiors
with but one feeble light source...
...the humble candle.
Tallow candles, rendered from beef fat, were for common folk.
(Owl hoots)
NARRATOR: The Church and wealthy families
could afford pleasant-smelling beeswax.
Every castle and monastery had its own apiary.
European honeybees are still cultivated in Carcassonne,
and a special bird thrives here as a result.
Its name gets right to the point: the bee-eater.
(Bees buzz)
(Bird chirps)
NARRATOR: It's got a beak like forceps...
...and a gift for aerial artistry.
(Bees buzz)
NARRATOR: Nabbing honeybees on the wing is only the first challenge.
There's also that stinger.
A good bashing breaks the stinger
and discharges the venom.
It's a trick other birds can't pull off.
The bee-eater gets to exploit a food source all to itself,
something most other birds couldn't catch,
let alone swallow.
When there are chicks to feed, it shuttles bugs
back to the nest one by one.
These are earthen nests,
burrowed into the sandy river bank.
(♪♪♪)
NARRATOR: The adult saves a few bees for itself,
always careful to knock out the barb before swallowing...
...almost always.
Even a bee-eater can make a mistake.
(Birds sing)
NARRATOR: Behind the walls of Carcassonne, the Cathars,
who rejected all possessions and wealth,
remained besieged by the pope's army.
Even the name was an assault by the church,
a play on the Latin word "catus" for cat,
which was meant as an insult.
Catholic scholars said that the Cathars
kissed the backsides of cats.
Cats, of course, were one of the Devil's guises.
People of the middle ages eyed them with suspicion, even fear.
But in Carcassonne, and all over Europe,
house cats were brilliant pest control,
helping to curb the Plague.
For that, they were tolerated.
Urban house cats retain the hunting prowess
passed down from their wild ancestors.
Their undomesticated cousins
still prowl the foothills of the Pyrenees...
...European wildcats.
The family resemblance is undeniable.
But this is no tabby.
These rambunctious kittens are in training
to become fierce rodent hunters.
But right now, it's up to their mother to do the work.
She must leave them at the den while she finds a meal.
Her territory extends high into the mountains,
where snow can fall throughout the whole year.
Somewhere under this fresh powder, mice are making trails.
Her strategy - find a dry spot to wait, and listen.
Back home, the kittens give her an eager welcome.
(Kitten meows)
NARRATOR: They're not eating mice quite yet.
That meal is for her, so she can nourish them in turn.
(Kittens meow)
NARRATOR: Nursing is a tranquil interlude with the kittens preoccupied.
(Kittens meow)
NARRATOR: Bellies full, they're back to play-hunting,
and the most fun quarry is each other.
(♪♪♪)
NARRATOR: Like their feline namesake,
the Cathars found themselves the objects of persecution.
But while some cats were tolerated and spared,
Cathars were pursued relentlessly.
The Catholic Church wasn't just determined
to crush the resistance;
it had to erase their ideas.
It already knew the best tactics for that,
not military assault, but terror and coercion.
The Holy Inquisition arrived at Carcassonne.
The inquisitors used any means to force Cathars to recant,
and to reveal the whereabouts of those who would not.
The grizzly proceedings become so common in Carcassonne
that one site would forever be known as "Inquisition Tower."
The Viscount Raimond Roger Trencavel,
patriarch of one of the wealthiest dynasties in France,
was not exempt.
He had surrendered the city so that his subjects might flee.
He died in the dungeon beneath his home.
(Horse running)
NARRATOR: Those Cathars that managed to escape
took refuge in the nearby forests...
...home to the wildcats
and what the Church called "the devil's fowl."
The eagle owl appeared like an apparition in the dark.
Not only can it navigate swiftly through the trees at night,
it does so in complete silence.
(Birds chirp)
(Owl cries)
NARRATOR: Its terrestrial prey never hears it coming.
The ghostly owl is agile on the wing but it often lands
before delivering the final blow.
In the forests around Carcassonne,
the Catholic Church was looking to deliver
a finishing blow to the Cathars.
The army of Holy Inquisitors ravaged the countryside,
pillaging towns and leaving starvation and disease
in their wake, striking terror
into the hearts of all citizens.
(Birds caw)
NARRATOR: And yet, several hundred Cathars survived,
steadfast in their faith.
They fled south into the Pyrenees,
reaching the fortress at Montségur,
35 miles away.
It was to be one of the last Cathar strongholds in Europe.
In May 1243, 34 years after the surrender of Carcassonne,
French royal forces laid siege to Montségur.
Its mountain perch was so precipitous
that the army could not capture it.
But after ten months of siege,
the Cathars were forced to surrender.
The victors made a final offer:
profess faith in Catholicism, and be spared.
There were no takers.
More than 200 Cathars burned at the stake,
at the foot of Montségur.
Cathar belief was never fully extinguished,
but it would never again be an organized movement in France.
The Cathars built no churches or temples.
Nature was their cathedral.
Little wonder they found a spiritual center
amid the natural bounty and splendor of Carcassonne.
They didn't long for worldly wealth or influence.
Instead they preached humility and harmony with all things.
In the middle ages, these were heretical ideas
whose time had not yet come.
But their dream still echoes through this place,
where the human world rests gracefully in nature...
...and where Europe's precious wild creatures
still have a home.
(♪♪♪)