Animal Fight Night

All over the world,

species clash in nature's savage battle of survival.

On the open plains,

deep in the oceans,

and under desert skies,

all are locked in deadly conflict.

Animals fight tooth and claw to win food,

territory and rights to the bloodline.

From the highlands of America

to the wilds of Africa,

there are no rules.

This is Animal Fight Club.

Maternal instinct is a formidable defense.

But even the most dedicated mothers

can't be everywhere at once.

African elephants are the biggest mothers that walk the Earth.

They're near-indestructible titans.

But calves start out around 40 times lighter than mom.

And they need to watch out.

A 10-year-old female searches for water with her herd.

Adults need to drink almost 50 gallons every day.

Highly protective females lead these tight family groups.

While the youngster drinks, the herd watches.

Elephant trunks can suck up around three gallons of water

at a time to squirt into their mouths to drink.

But this essential multitool is also a nose...

-(TRUMPETING) -...an alarm call,

and a powerful arm.

About the only thing it can't do

is see.

A Nile crocodile!

Males defend their territory aggressively.

A croc's bite pressure is seven times greater than a lion's.

The little one's trunk may have the thinnest skin on her body,

but it, too, can be a weapon.

The trunk has eight major muscles on each side.

Muscles running around the trunk control the volume

of the nasal passages and suck up water,

while those running lengthwise

move the trunk in all directions.

In an adult they're strong enough

to kill a lion with a single blow.

The youngster thrashes a ton of angry croc.

If she's pulled into the river, she'll be in the reptile's domain.

In water, a croc's trademark kill strategy is the death roll.

It drags victims underwater and spins them with such force

that it can dismember their bodies.

Without a trunk, the youngster is unlikely to survive.

Panic spreads in the herd.

But that super-strong arm now has the croc out of its territory.

Mom's protective instinct kicks in.

The croc loosens its grip.

And mom's tusks add some not-so-gentle persuasion.

The youngster learns that her most vulnerable asset

can be her best defense.

This killer croc bit off more than he could chew.

Animals clash over territory and food,

but for some, the fight to protect their young

is the most important battle of all.

Monterey Bay is one of the most dangerous places in the world

if you're a mother gray whale.

She's on a 12,000-mile round trip

to feeding grounds in the Arctic.

It's one of the longest migrations of any animal.

She's a 40-ton leviathan, with little to fear from predators.

But her four-month-old calf is a slow-moving target.

Because these are hunting grounds.

Beneath the waves, a pod of orcas looks for its next meal.

They're the largest of the dolphin family,

apex predators of the ocean.

They'll work in teams to kill baby whales.

It's murky, but these are expert trackers.

Orcas have a natural sonar system.

They vibrate their nasal passages to make clicking sounds.

A mass of fatty tissue in the head, called the melon,

focuses the sound waves into a beam.

As the beam echoes off objects,

the orca's brain interprets it as an acoustic image of its surroundings.

Which allows them to accurately track a prey's location from half a mile.

But close ahead, mother whale's excellent hearing

could detect orca clicks.

So when they hunt whales,

these crafty killers turn off their sonar

and close in silently

to circle in stealth mode.

Mom has over a 30-ton advantage.

As long as she stays alongside her calf, it has a chance.

The orcas' six-ton body blows weaken the calf.

Mom tries to heave him out of the water to breathe.

But they're both tiring.

The orcas enter phase two of their kill plan.

In an attempt to separate mom and baby,

they bully their way between the pair,

and push down the calf, so it can't breathe.

The orcas use their six-ton body weight

to try to drown the almost 5,000-pound calf.

An adult gray whale can stay submerged for 15 minutes.

Its muscles and blood cells store more oxygen than most mammals,

and it can dramatically lower its heart rate

to consume less oxygen.

But the calf can only last for five minutes.

It's the orcas' ace strategy to net a protein-rich feast.

But mom has an ace up her sleeve, too.

She turns over and swims belly-up.

Upside down, she can't breathe,

but it gives her calf a platform to lie on.

The orcas are outsmarted and exhausted.

They'll have to look elsewhere for today's dinner.

Mother and calf take a breath

and head back to their epic migration.

In the land of lions, most hunts are executed by lionesses.

Just like any winning team, they need a game plan.

Especially when the prey is 1,800 pounds of Cape buffalo.

As one lioness lays hidden,

the rest of her team takes position.

Their target is six times heavier than they are,

and can charge at 35 miles an hour.

When a buffalo gets going, it's a near unstoppable juggernaut.

And it's a lion killer.

Lioness tactics work the odds.

Hunting in groups increases their chances of a kill

by over 10%.

To take down one buffalo,

first you stalk,

then comes the ambush...

And finally, the kiss of death,

a suffocation move.

But few plans survive contact with the enemy.

She's upwind of her prey,

and he smells a cat.

The plan's busted.

The hunter is now the hunted.

But what happens next could turn the tables again.

A buffalo can outrun lioness over distance.

But this game can switch in an instant.

And now her team is back on track.

Phase two, the ambush.

But this buffalo's not stopping for passengers.

It's too much for one 280-pound lioness.

More backup arrives.

A male lion, weighing in at up to 420 pounds,

brings extra power to the hunt.

But it's still not enough.

To give the kiss of death, they need to slow the buffalo down.

A lioness rides the buckaroo,

and she's inches from being gored.

But the buffalo is shut down and surrounded.

Phase three, the kiss of death.

While the rest of the team pins the buffalo down,

one member seals off its airways.

The plan delivers, big time.

The Alaskan wilderness.

In summer, moose are on high alert

as wolf packs target their newborn calves.

A pack member picks up a new mother's scent.

When predators close in, she'll rush to water,

where long legs give her an advantage

over the stockier wolves.

One of the pack tracks her down.

Mom's seven times heavier.

And she can smash his skull with a single kick.

A second wolf joins the attack.

This pool isn't deep enough to deter them.

But they don't have the numbers to surround her.

Backup arrives.

It's now six on two.

Seven hundred pounds of moose mom is a feast for the pack,

but she's too strong.

The mob sticks with the easier target.

Wolves attack from all directions to confuse prey.

And in the panic, she unleashes one of those deadly hooves

on her own calf.

She aims another hoof.

But it's a miss.

Four wolves distract mom,

which leaves the calf unprotected.

Mom beats them back, but she's outflanked.

It's only 30 pounds of calf meat,

but it will keep the cunning pack going until tomorrow.

When you're the sole breadwinner, it's not just your life at stake.

A cheetah single mother needs food.

Her cubs haven't eaten for days.

But hunting means leaving her infants to fend for themselves.

Without mom's protection,

they're easy meat for predators.

Cub mortality can be as high as 90%.

A solo cheetah will often target small antelopes.

But today she's desperate,

and ventures seven miles from her cubs

for wildebeest.

It's a protein-rich kill that could feed her family for days.

But it could also

kill her.

The cheetah lacks a lion's strength.

Her bones are light and fragile.