Remote and isolated,
the islands of the South Pacific have a life of their own.
Animals have been living in seclusion for so long,
they've evolved in the most curious and surprising ways.
But island living can carry a high price.
Recently, some dramatic changes have been sweeping through these strange islands.
At the western limits of the Pacific ocean,
this is New Guinea,
the world's largest tropical island.
In these isolated jungles,
there are creatures only recently discovered by westerners...
...and mountains that they have never visited.
This is the home of a mammal first seen by scientists
as recently as 1994.
Even the locals rarely see it,
and it has never been filmed...
until now.
(RUSTLING)
It lives in trees, but it's not a monkey.
Primates never made the jump across the water to this island.
This is a rare glimpse of an almost unknown island oddity...
(SNORTING SOFTLY)
...the dingiso.
About the size of a Labrador
and with bear-like features, it is - amazingly - a type of kangaroo,
a tree kangaroo.
It lives at a higher altitude than any other kangaroo,
hence the woolly coat.
Kangaroos usually feed on grass,
but here on New Guinea, they've climbed into the trees
where the greenery is more abundant.
So the dingiso is a kangaroo
which lives high in the mountains and climbs trees -
but then islands do have a habit of producing rather unusual animals.
why?
Because islands offer fresh opportunities
to the creatures that find their way there.
with no monkeys in New Guinea,
the freedom to browse in the trees has gone to the kangaroos.
New Guinea is a vast island nestled close to the continental landmass of Australia.
As we move south and east, to smaller, more distant islands,
the wildlife becomes even more unusual.
The little-known island of New Caledonia is a small sliver of Australia
that was cast adrift over 60 million years ago.
It's home to a creature that seems to have evolved quite strangely.
(DISTANT SQUAWKING, RUSTLING)
It has wings, but it can't fly.
(RUSTLING)
(THROATY GURGLES)
It is the kagu.
(wHISTLING TRILLS)
(FRENZIED TRILLING)
Kagu families stick together,
with young from previous years helping to declare the family territory.
(FRENZIED TRILLS)
All intruders are chased away.
It's the breeding season,
when males rekindle the flame with their life-long partners.
It's hard to know what the kagu is related to -
a heron, a rail,
or maybe a pigeon.
Its closest relative may actually be the sunbittern of South America,
7,000 miles to the east.
She may not seem too impressed,
but then, kagus always keep their feet very firmly on the ground.
Their wings are too weak to get them airborne,
but why fly when all the food you need is on the ground?
And with no large predators stalking this island,
there's not much cause to take flight.
But this life is not without its worries.
A newly hatched chick is hiding among the leaves.
As with babies the world over, getting food into mouth can be quite a challenge.
Perhaps slimy worms just don't appeal.
The chick's camouflage helps to hide it from aerial predators
like the New caledonian crow.
(CAWING)
Fortunately, Dad's wings still have a use...
(CAWING)
...to help him look big and intimidating.
The kagu may be an island oddity,
but with few prowling predators reaching the Pacific's isolated islands,
flightless birds are more common here than anywhere else on Earth.
Islands are a topsy-turvy world,
where evolution seems to follow a different set of rules.
North of New Caledonia lies the Solomon Islands archipelago,
a scattering of a thousand tropical islands.
For the select few animals that arrived here,
these were brave new worlds, filled with possibilities.
And to make the most of what they found here,
some adopted a whole new way of life.
Among the successful colonists were skinks -
lizards that are usually small with short legs.
Quite a variety live here in the Solomons,
but there is one in these forests that's unlike any other skink on the planet.
The monkey-tailed skink is up to 50 times heavier than your average skink,
and is the world's largest.
Most skinks spend their lives on the ground, but not this monster.
This is the only skink to possess a prehensile tail...
...and unlike nearly all other skinks which dine on insects,
this gentle giant is entirely vegetarian.
As in New Guinea, there are no monkeys on these islands,
so this skink simply filled the gap in the market and branched out.
It even forms social bonds with other monkey-tailed skinks,
a rare characteristic among reptiles of any description.
This skink may be an oddity, but that is exactly why it thrives here.
For a leaf-eater, these islands are paradise.
For others, though, life can be a little harder.
Islanders only succeed by making the most of what's around them.
Even spiders have their uses.
on Santa catalina Island in the Solomons,
a fisherman prepares to go fishing.
He seeks out a particular spider web,
one that is strong and intricately spun.
The fish he's after can't be caught on hooks -
their mouths are too narrow.
So he has to be creative.
No rod or reel, just a kite...
...and the spider silk, wound into a lure.
The spider-silk lure hangs below the kite,
flitting across the water like an insect.
Now he must steer the kite to where he thinks the fish are gathered.
Somewhere, just beneath the surface, shoals of needlefish lie in wait.
He keeps a close eye on the kite - if it drops, a fish is snared.
No hook is needed.
The sharp teeth and rough scales of the needlefish are tangled in the spider silk.
It's clever, it's effective...
...and many fish can be caught in this way.
Their ability to adapt and find food both on land and at sea
was crucial to the survival of the Pacific's first human colonisers.
But it wasn't all plain sailing -
the Pacific's more remote islands
were some of the last places on Earth to be discovered by humans.
And the island chain of Hawaii is the remotest of them all.
These islands are so hard to reach that before humans arrived,
only one new species of plant or animal turned up here every 35,000 years.
For those lucky few that made it, this was a land of milk and honey.
This bird's beak is perfect for sipping nectar from tubular flowers.
It's an 'i'iwi -
a long-billed honey creeper only found in Hawaii.
But when blown to these shores four million years ago,
its ancestors looked very different.
Those first Hawaiian honey creepers were finch-like,
with short bills, perhaps quite similar to this modern honey creeper, the palila.
Its stout bill is perfect for ripping open tough seed pods.
But once here, the honey creepers made the most of it,
evolving into a variety of birds with some very distinctive bills.
The Maui parrotbill has a strong, hooked beak
for getting at the grubs inside dead wood.
And then there's the 'akiapola'au,
with one of the most remarkable beaks of any bird.
Its lower mandible is straight and chisel-like
and can puncture the bark to drink the sap...
...while its upper mandible is long and curved for winkling out grubs.
It's as close as a bill gets to a Swiss Army penknife.
Amazingly, one single type of finch evolved into 58 different species
and all because the birds that normally fill these roles,
like hummingbirds and woodpeckers, never made it to these islands.
Landfall in the Pacific is a risky business.
Most islands are small, low and rather uniform,
with few lifestyle choices on offer.
But there is an archipelago that truly bucks the trend.
Two of the largest islands in the Pacific have everything a castaway could dream of.
Here lives a greater diversity of unique island creatures
than almost anywhere else in the South Pacific.
Forested valleys, turbulent rivers and glacier-topped peaks...
this is New Zealand.
A thousand miles long and with a mountainous spine
rising one-and-a-half miles above the ocean,
New Zealand offered a world of possibilities
to creatures that found their way here.
(RoARING wATER)
on these islands at the end of the world
live some unique animals.
(WHINING CALLS)
Alpine parrots, called ''kea'', after their calls.
(WHINING CALLS)
Living higher than any other parrots,
these are possibly the world's most playful birds.
But most of New Zealand's pioneering creatures were drawn to the forests below.
And here, too, given the strange nature of life on Pacific islands,
it pays to expect the unexpected.
(SHUFFLING)
And the last thing you might expect to see here...
...is penguins.
These are Fiordland crested penguins,
named after this corner of south New Zealand, and their funky hairdo.
(SHRILL SQUAWKING)
They're on their daily trip to the sea.
Despite hanging out in the forest, they haven't lost their taste for fish.
So why are these woodlands so attractive to penguins?
Because there are no large predators here,
it's a safe place for bringing up baby.
A freshwater stream through the forest makes a handy highway
for a parent penguin heading home from a fishing trip with a crop full of food.
(BUBBLING WATER)
Born in the forest, they stay in the forest,
while Mum and Dad bring fresh meals straight from the ocean.
(CHEEPING)
They can hear the waves, they can even smell the spray,
but they have no idea what it looks like.
These chicks won't have their first splash in the ocean
until they're three months old,
when they'll finally set off on their first fishing trip, alone.
1,500 miles from the nearest continent,
New Zealand is beyond the reach of most mammals.
Marine mammals aside, the only ones that did succeed,
before humans arrived, had wings.
Bats.
This is the short-tailed bat.
It roosts in tree cavities and comes out at night to feed.
So far, so normal.
But these bats have been living the island life far too long
not to have become a little ''different''.
And they're not the only ones.
wetas are primitive relatives of the locust, but they can't fly.
Seeing an opportunity, the bats pounced.
After all, why waste energy hawking for insects in the sky,
when there is such a feast on the forest floor?
(RUSTLING AND CHIRPING)
New Zealand's night-time creepy-crawlies are at the mercy of these bats.
Some try to put up a fight...
...but they're no match for THIS army of predators.
These bats have special sheaths that protect their wings,
all the better to burrow through the leaves.
So even worms aren't safe.
The very first bat
evolved from a mouse-like mammal many millions of years ago.
Here on New Zealand, it seems evolution has gone into reverse.
And if New Zealand's bats have turned to mice,
what on earth has happened to the birds?
In these forests
lives a bird that is about as un-bird-like as it is possible for a bird to be.
It's nocturnal, though it sometimes wakes up before sunset.
It has whiskers so it can feel its way in the dark.
It's a parrot, and weighing up to four kilos, it's the world's heaviest.
And yes, you've guessed it - it can't fly.
Meet the kakapo.
Too heavy and short-winged to get airborne,
it climbs trees instead.
Kakapo were once one of the most successful
and abundant herbivores in New Zealand - the Kiwi equivalent of our rabbit.
In 1899, explorer Charlie Douglas wrote, ''They could be caught in the moonlight
''by simply shaking the tree or bush
''until they tumbled to the ground... like shaking down apples.''
Its favourite food is up above - the tiny seeds of the rimu tree.
This fruit fuels kakapo reproduction
and they only breed when the trees produce a bumper crop,
so about once every four years.
Kakapo breed slower than any other bird,
but they also live longer,
sometimes more than a hundred years.
The male's ''song'' is as peculiar as the bird itself.
More frog than parrot, it can be heard up to three miles away.
(BUZZY BOOMING)
In a breeding season, he will boom non-stop for eight hours every night
for up to three months.
(BUZZY BOOMING)
But a female will only respond if there are plenty of rimu seeds about.
So while these birds may nest in burrows like rabbits,
unfortunately, they don't breed like them.
And their numbers have dwindled dramatically.
(PIERCING WHISTLING)
Today, fewer than a hundred kakapo survive...
...and precious chicks receive a helping hand.
captive rearing has helped raise the number of kakapo
from just 51 in 1995
to the 91 birds alive today.
(CHIRPING)
They used to number in the hundreds of thousands.
Today, their future is truly in our hands.
(FEEBLE CHIRPING)
So is this now an empty forest?
Actually, the trees are under attack like never before.
There's a menace lurking amongst the foliage.
During the day, it slumbers.
But under cover of darkness, an invader is revealed.
Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, the mammals have finally arrived in force.
Australian possums.
Imported for their fur two centuries ago,
they soon reached plague proportions, stripping trees of their vegetation.
A war is being waged against them -
traps set and poison scattered.
And yet they are now far more numerous than the kakapo ever were.
A staggering 70 million possums overrun New Zealand's forests.
where a bird failed, a mammal has succeeded.
But why? The possums were unwitting immigrants,
while the kakapo have lived here for millennia -
perfectly adapted to this forest.
It's an irony that is by no means unique to the kakapo and the possum.
Right across the Pacific, similar scenes have been unfolding.
Tiny islands off the coast of New Zealand
are the last refuge for a host of animals now vanished from the two main islands.
This is Stephens Island -
one square mile of rock protruding from the ocean.
It's home to a living fossil,
a relict, barely changed for over 100 million years.
The tuatara.
And half the world's population survive on this one island refuge.
During the reign of the dinosaurs,
the ancestors of the tuatara were everywhere.
They survived the cataclysm that killed off the dinosaurs,
but then couldn't compete with the mammals
and died out...
everywhere, except on what was then a mammal-free New Zealand.
Unlike mammals, tuatara live life in the slow lane.
Days can pass
when they barely move a muscle...
...sometimes taking just one breath an hour.
They feed on wetas,
beetles and other invertebrates...
...but don't appear very good at catching them.
Even after millions of years of practice,
eye-mouth co-ordination is not what it could be.
''Survival of the fittest'' just doesn't seem to apply here.
The tuatara's survival, first on New Zealand, now on Stephens Island,
proves a point -
islands are pretty safe places to be, at least until invaded.
Fortunately for the Stephens Island tuatara,
it did survive a brief mammal invasion.
But for some of the other wildlife here,
the invasion was rather more...catastrophic.
The island had been uninhabited and largely ignored,
but that all changed with the construction of this lighthouse back in 1 894.
when the newly installed keeper, a Mr Lyall,
found an unusual wren on the island,
he sent a specimen to London for identification.
Like many island birds, it was flightless.
And perhaps that's why it wasn't Mr Lyall who first discovered the bird,
but his four-legged companion.
Tibbles proved to be a very efficient specimen collector.
So much so, in fact,
that one year later, when the bird was officially declared a new species,
Mr Lyall had to regretfully inform the scientific community at large
that the species was now extinct.
In truth, Tibbles wasn't the only feline to blame,
but the ease with which the Stephens Island wren had been dispatched
was alarming.
The cats were removed from Stephens Island, but it was too late for the wren.
Now only known from a few cat-chewed museum specimens,
evolving to be flightless had proven fatal.
So it seems there is a trade-off.
The freedom of island life allows a species to relax its guard,
but that can leave it defenceless.
on the main islands of New Zealand,
similar dramas have played out time and time again.
Forests dominated by giant kauri trees once covered the North Island.
The fragments that remain look much like they have for millennia,
but looks can be deceiving.
A few centuries ago,
this forest echoed with the calls of strange and wonderful birds.
(CACOPHONY OF BIRD CALLS)
Most famous was the giant moa,
which looked a bit like an ostrich, but taller than an elephant.
And there are many more birds
whose haunting songs now exist here only in memory.
(CACOPHoNY OF BIRD CALLS)
The bird recordings and recreated songs you hear now
are all of species that have disappeared
from these main-island forests.
we can't just blame Tibbles and his kin. Humans have brought
a whole range of mammalian competitors and predators to these shores.
Today, the people of New Zealand are making amends.
This is New Zealand's most famous tree -
Tane Mahuta, Lord of the Forest.
There's more wood in this kauri tree than in any other tropical tree in the world.
conservationists are working hard to protect and nurture these special forests.
By collecting kauri seeds, they ensure that new trees can be cultivated
and the forest expanded into its former range.
Meanwhile, the animal invaders are being controlled,
and birds that only survived on small outlying islands
are now being reintroduced to these mighty forests.
Back in Hawaii, being the remotest of all archipelagos,
you might expect the unique wildlife to have fared rather better.
In the lowlands, there are lush coastal rainforests teeming with life.
But not indigenous life.
None of the plants or animals you see here is actually native.
Jackson's chameleons were brought from East Africa as exotic pets.
The white-rumped shama from India and the northern cardinal from North America
were both introduced to supplement the native bird life,
while the red-billed leiothrix was a cage bird imported from china.
And the Japanese white-eye was imported in an attempt to control insect pests.
Before humans, only one new species reached Hawaii every 35,000 years.
Now up to 50 new species turn up every year.
Invaders are everywhere,
and some have had a significant impact.
In an attempt to control introduced rats,
humans brought the Indian mongoose to Hawaii.
Unfortunately, no-one considered the fact that rats are nocturnal,
while the mongoose hunts by day,
so the hungry mongoose turned its attention
to decimating the island's unique bird life instead.
Thousands of species have humans to thank
for bringing them to islands throughout the Pacific.
But there's one animal that has been a valued travelling companion
for as long as people have sailed this ocean.
(GRUNTING)
wherever people went,
pigs went too.
(ALL SINGING)
In Vanuatu, 1,200 miles north of New Zealand,
the people of Tanna Island have gathered for a festival.
Like an expensive car in western culture,
here pigs are a symbol of wealth and status.
The Toka festival celebrates the end of warfare between rival clans,
and pigs are at the centre of it.
To attend, each village must bring some to the party,
and that's a lot of pigs.
(PIGS SQUEALING AND GRUNTING)
Some will be butchered for a feast, others given away.
But to take one of these pigs home,
a family must agree to one day repay the debt...
...and it's these pig debts
that help strengthen the bonds between the different villages.
(SINGING)
Major celebrations surround the giving and receiving of these prized assets.
And since the Toka only occurs once every three or four years,
everyone jumps at the chance to dress up.
(SINGING AND STAMPING)
The dancing goes on for three days.
Each village attempts to out-dance its neighbours
in a display of friendly rivalry.
You could say this is Strictly come Dancing, Vanuatu-style.
(SINGING)
(DRUMS BEAT RHYTHMICALLY)
In the past, tribal rivalry was far more serious.
on this island, there were precious few wild animals to hunt.
Pigs would have been essential protein,
but if they died, perhaps through disease, what else did the islanders have to eat?
The great-grandparents of these dancers were cannibals.
Life on an isolated Pacific island is eternally poised on a knife-edge.
Nowhere is this more apparent
than on the single most remote island in the Pacific -
Easter Island.
This tiny speck of land has an extraordinary story to tell,
with new twists turning up still to this day.
Just 13 miles long and 7 miles wide,
Easter Island rises like a fortress from the waves,
surrounded by thousands of miles of ocean in every direction.
People first arrived here less than 1,000 years ago.
Most of what we know about their civilisation
can only be pieced together from the relics that remain.
It is a strange and desolate place.
The most striking features in this bleak and windswept landscape
are the hundreds of giant stone statues, known as moai,
thought to be carved in the likeness of chiefs or ancestors.
It's difficult to believe that an advanced culture
capable of carving and erecting these monoliths
grew up in such a barren landscape.
The truth is,
it didn't.
when those first colonisers discovered Easter Island,
this was a paradise.
These empty cliffs
were once home to the largest seabird colonies in the South Pacific.
(SEABIRDS CRY)
Rich volcanic soils nourished a forest of giant palms
that was home to many unique species,
including Easter Island versions of herons, parrots, rails and owls.
(BIRDSoNG)
Today, they are all gone.
(SILENCE)
The people, ultimately, didn't do much better.
The rise and tragic demise of the Easter Islanders,
the Rapa Nui, is now legendary.
This quarry once occupied the majority of the island's workforce,
thousands of people,
with each clan trying to carve and raise a bigger, grander figure
than those of their neighbours.
(HAMMERING AND HUBBUB)
Vast amounts of timber would have been required
to transport and erect the giant moai,
and slowly but surely, the forests vanished.
Eventually, there was no wood left even to build boats.
without fishing boats,
they would have been denied their main source of food,
and their one means of escape.
As resources dwindled,
Easter Island society descended into chaos and warfare.
The giant statues were pulled to the ground -
possibly acts of sabotage between rival clans.
Houses were abandoned and the foundation stones used
to construct fortified dwellings in caves underground.
Some evidence even suggests that once everything edible had been consumed,
the starving were driven to that most desperate of acts - cannibalism.
Understandably, this version of Easter Island's history remains controversial,
because it suggests the Rapa Nui were incredibly short-sighted.
As the trees dwindled, why did they do nothing about it?
But a new theory suggests the Rapa Nui were powerless to prevent their downfall,
for when they arrived on this island,
they were not alone.
Rats travelled with people to every corner of the Pacific.
on Easter Island, their impact may have been catastrophic.
Multiplying to plague proportions, they would have devoured the wild fruits,
the seabirds, even the nuts of the giant palms,
so that the trees may have stopped reproducing
long before the last one was felled.
Perhaps the fate of Easter Island was not sealed
by the human who felled that last tree,
but by the rat that ate the last palm nut.
other South Pacific islands have also seen civilisations rise and fall,
though none have left such dramatic reminders of their passing
as the giant statues of the Rapa Nui.
Now re-erected,
they've come to symbolise how precarious life can be on an isolated island.
For this island has not been abandoned.
A few Rapa Nui survived, and now they're thriving once more,
entertaining visitors from the outside world.
Trees have been planted,
though it's too late for the unique creatures that once lived here.
Elsewhere, on islands throughout the Pacific, there is still time.
People are working hard to remove the creatures that don't belong here
and make space once again for the curiosities,
from kagus to kakapo,
that make the South Pacific such a uniquely wonderful world.
of all the animals in this programme,
the dingiso was the most difficult to film.
It is extremely rare, and only recently discovered by western science,
which is one of the reasons why the team wanted to record it on camera.
Their quest took them to a forbidden land guarded by a mountain tribe.
No-one knew what an emotional journey lay ahead.
They flew to Pogapa, New Guinea -
a village of the Moni tribe, guardians of the dingiso.
A meeting was called to discuss the visitors'proposal.
(SPEAKING LOCAL LANGUAGE)
To the Moni, the dingiso is an ancestral spirit.
Hunting it is strictly forbidden. But how would they feel about filming it?
Many of these people have never visited Lake Wutidi,
the sacred area where the dingiso lives,
so letting our crew go there was a big decision.
There were so many times that I thought, ''These people are gonna walk out the door
''and we're gonna have to go home.''
But eventually, we got everybody on board, and yeah,
I'm really glad we're over that and now we can finally get going.
pilemon is a village chief who agreed to accompany the team.
The Moni were now really keen to help the team track down a dingiso in the wild.
Good morning!
Everyone walked at their own pace.
The film crew had to take things rather more slowly.
we've been left for dead
by the old ladies and the kids that are carrying the generator and the cameras
and our tents and all the rest of the stuff that we brought!
The team has reached the edge of the sacred area of wutidi.
From here on in, everything changes.
So from here, the trail gets really slippery and really dangerous,
so we've got to go very slow.
From here on out, some of the names we use change.
wutidi is... we're not allowed to use that - we use the sacred name.
Same for the dingiso. we have to use the sacred name for the dingiso -
we're not allowed to use the word ''dingiso'' any more.
The team continue to climb.
They are now over 3,000 metres above sea level.
JAMES MAIR: It's madness. The landscape's totally changed.
It's really dry and wiry and...sparse,
and I think this is the kind of habitat where the animal lives,
kind of in the much more stunted trees.
Finally, they reach the sacred lake. They must remember the sacred rules.
This is Lake Ezimoga,
which is the name they use in the sacred area.
And this is a central point
from which it's a good area to look for the manimomaga,
which is the other name for the tree kangaroo we're looking for.
And everyone's...
everyone's pretty emotional to be here.
Even chief pilemon is deeply moved.
JoE YAGGI: This lake is one of the most important parts of the Moni culture.
It's a really, really big deal for these guys to come here, to see this place.
with base camp established, the search for a dingiso begins in earnest,
and it's not long before pilemon announces he's found something.
(PILEMON SPEAKS LOCAL LANGUAGE)
signs on the ground suggest a dingiso was here, and the signs are fresh.
He's saying the creature filled a space about this big, so he was quite large,
and he sticks his nose in there, he's looking for worms,
so he sticks his nose in there
and he takes his claws, and pushes the soil out of the way.
But dingiso are supposed to eat leaves, not worms.
perhaps these are the marks of a spiny anteater, or echidna.
pilemon's impression of the animal reassures the team he wasn't mistaken -
echidnas don't climb trees.
It just shows how little is known about the dingiso.
JAMES MAIR: It's really exciting to see a kind of sign that this animal exists,
cos it was kinda feeling a bit like a myth,
especially the last couple of weeks where it's taken so much to get here
and the chances of filming it have felt so slim,
but it feels like we're kind of in with a chance now, which is great!
But the animal itself remains elusive.
A week has now passed,
and the trackers set out in different directions to widen the search.
only three of these men have ever seen a dingiso before.
The chances of improving on that are looking slim.
village chief pilemon has crossed to the other side of the valley.
The crew are ready to follow if he signals good news.
Next morning, bizarrely, the postman calls. It's a letter from pilemon.
But it's not the news they wanted.
He's just requesting fresh supplies.
The team have all but given up hope.
Late that night,
chief pilemon arrives back in camp with a shocking surprise.
(MAN SHoUTING)
The guys from the other side of the valley have just come in,
and we're not sure what they're carrying yet.
They've just come in to...to the camp.
The crew fear the worst.
(SPEAKING IN LOCAL LANGUAGE)
He appears to be carrying a live animal.
This was never part of the plan.
Throughout the trip, the crew had tried to make it clear
they only wanted to film a dingiso in the wild.
It is a dingiso.
This was the very last thing any of the team wanted to witness,
and it was very distressing.
Now the team's only concern is for the animal's welfare.
JAMES MAIR: we're gonna have to take it back with them tomorrow.
we can't release it here - it needs to be released in its home territory.
Um...so we're gonna have to keep it like this overnight -
it's the only way that it can be kept safe -
and then take it back and release it tomorrow.
(SPEAKING IN LOCAL LANGUAGE)
For pilemon, the dingiso is a sacred animal.
so he performs a ceremony to the spirits for capturing it.
As soon as they can, the team set off to return the dingiso to its forest home.
The dingiso is so highly revered in Moni culture
that pilemon wanted to share it with the outside world.
strange as it seems, bringing it to the team
was his way of showing great respect for the animal.
Filming it now depends on how the dingiso behaves once it's released.
we're finally where the manimomaga was found.
I think it was literally at the tree... one of these trees just around us.
we're gonna release it in the jungle and see what happens.
To the crew's great relief,
the dingiso doesn't appear to be stressed or harmed in any way.
It bounds up a tree, and then acts as if nothing unusual has happened.
oK, he's started to feed a little bit, which is a great sign.
After all this trouble, and walking and everything,
it's really great just to see him chewing on a bit of food
and kind of half dozing and looking a lot happier.
There he is, where he should be, up in a tree.
Tree kangaroos!
This had been an emotional journey for the whole team.
Finally,
intimate shots of the elusive, almost mythical dingiso,
back home in a place that is truly a world apart.