The nature of things at PBS.

• Author: Kaufman, Fred
• Position: Mass Media

WHEN I TELL PEOPLE I am executive producer of the "Nature" series on PBS, I can tell what is going through their minds. You might call it the Indiana Jones effect. They see me trekking through the jungle with a camera on my shoulder, tracking big cats through Africa on top of a jeep, or diving 300 feet under the sea in a shark cage. While many of the challenges I face every day are just as fearsome, I have to set the record straight. I basically am an urbanite with a love of nature and a lifelong desire to share its wonders with viewers through the magic of television. Sometimes I travel to exotic locations, of course. However, I definitely prefer my own mattress and sheets to a bedroll in a mosquito-ridden rain forest. Maybe the simplest answer to the "what do you do?" question is this: I am a storyteller. After 23 years with the longest-running natural history program on television, I know one thing for certain. The best way to capture an audience in a 500-channel universe is to deliver great dramas full of unforgettable characters.

Our mission here at "Nature" is to make films that allow the armchair explorer to roam the wilderness while learning about the most fascinating species on the planet. Since 1982, we have taken viewers to every continent on the planet, to exotic locales like the river of fire, flooded desert, skeleton coast, shark mountain, and land of the tailing lakes. Nature, however, is not always "out there," which is why my definition of nature is extremely broad. We have searched for Florida's fountain of youth, surfed Hawaii's big waves, and found the wild side of New York City. Do you think dogs, cats, and birds cannot astonish? Guess again. Over the years, we have discovered the extraordinary in the most ordinary of animals--all the way to "The Joy of Pigs." Along the way, we have gotten up close and personal with everything from bat-eared foxes and gooney birds to meat-eating plants, swimming elephants, and flying snakes. Chances are, if it runs, flies, swims, or slithers, it has starred on "Nature," which is produced by Thirteen/WNET New York for PBS.

Our latest major offering is called "Deep Jungle," a three-part series that airs April 17 and 24 and May 1. The film's opening line says it all when it describes the jungle as the most complex place on Earth. More than half of all life is found in the world's jungles--and most of it is not even named yet. So, if we want a new look at the natural world, this is the place to do it--while we still can. According to a World Bank study, virtually all the lowland rain forest of Sulawesi has been wiped out, and at current rates of clearance, those of the giant island provinces of Sumatra and Kalimantan likely will be gone by the end of this year and 2010, respectively, taking with them entire species of orangutans, tigers, and rhinos. I particularly am excited about this series because, as we are examining a phenomenal natural world, we also are introducing a new generation of jungle explorers such as Italian primatologist Chloe Cipolletta and the real "Spider-Man"--Martin Nicholas. These researchers bring with them technology that can shed light on this mysterious world, and show us the forest as we never have seen it before. "Deep Jungle" is exactly the kind of hallmark program "Nature" has been known for since its debut, when we pioneered a television genre that now is emulated widely throughout cable and broadcast TV.

My job has taken me to Kenya, Greenland, Iceland, Japan, Australia, Tahiti, Spain, Mexico, and England. Could I have imagined all of this when I started out more than 20 years ago as a mere "Nature" production assistant? Not in a million years. Back then, I was just grateful to have a job--any job. After getting a bachelor's degree in journalism from SUNY Binghamton, I first headed for Hollywood, determined to make it in the movies. I came close, close enough to consider a job as a production assistant on a little movie being shot out in the California desert. The movie was "Raiders of the Lost Ark." I thought it sounded like a B flick--so I turned it down. Yes, I still am kicking myself over that decision. Soon after, I returned to New York.

Ironically, Stephen Spielberg's Indiana Jones is the image most people have of our wildlife filmmakers, the men and women who spend months and sometimes years combing the world's mountains, deserts, and deep seas in search of that perfect shot. However, what I discovered during my first few years with "Nature," when I often worked as a program producer, was that the reality was about as far from Hollywood as Antarctica is from Zimbabwe. My first time in Africa, back in 1991, was with legendary filmmaker Hugh Miles, who was shooting a documentary on wild dogs. It was my first time on a big shoot--and my first trip to the Serengeti. I did not know what to expect. I soon learned that most animals are active just twice a day--sun up and sun down. So when you are making wildlife films, the crew has to be ready by about 4 a.m., well before sunrise. Being an impatient New Yorker, when Miles told me we would be driving out to where we hoped the wild dogs would appear, I thought, "Okay, great; we drive out there, hang around a bit, the dogs come out, we shoot, and I get to go home." Wrong. Wildlife filming can be summed up pretty much like this: you wait, and you wait, and you wait some more. Sometimes for hours, often for days, occasionally for weeks. Some films, like our recent "Snow Leopard," take years to film, owing to the elusive nature of the animal. Really, most of the time you are not shooting and a good part of the time you are failing. You may have missed the shot---or the animal. You were in the wrong place; the camera was not ready; it was too dark or too far away. It is Murphy's Law. In fact, it is not uncommon to shoot 30 hours of footage or more to get a one-hour "Nature" episode.

Finally, one morning at about 6 a.m., I hear this hubbub. Suddenly, a pack of wild dogs darts in front of our Land Rover. Once numbering in the hundreds of thousands, the African wild dog is now one of the continent's most endangered animals, with fewer than 5,000 remaining. Figuring out where in all of Africa to find them was a job for an expert like Miles, who has a definite intuition. Individuals who devote their lives to this type of work--those who do it well--are touched that way. Further, wildlife filmmakers not only must find the animals, they must be quick enough to capture them on film. They are there one minute, and gone the next. Wild dogs are about the size of a German Shepard--maybe 18 inches high--and when they are in the tall grass, they almost are camouflaged. The minute you see them, you almost do not see them. It is that quick. Miles, though, got the shot. "Oh my God," I thought. "This is pretty good stuff."

One thing that has remained with me "after all these years is the majesty of Africa. Picture this: I am driving along the savannah with the sun peeking above an endless horizon when, all of a sudden, I spot this silhouette in front of me--an Acacia tree, which is the logo of "Nature." You can imagine the feeling of actually seeing it in front of my eyes for the first time. Then, just as suddenly, I see the silhouettes of giraffes and of elephants. Then those silhouettes turn into fully lit animals. Just as quickly, thousands of wilde-beests surround me. Except for a small crew, I pretty much am alone in the wilderness, hundreds of miles from anything even resembling a town or city. There are no roads. It is completely silent. Of course, unlike on TV, there is no soundtrack playing. Then, right before my eyes, this incredible...