Dominik Eulberg

Songbirds are disappearing at an alarming rate. The Messenger is a visually thrilling ode to the beauty and importance of the imperiled songbird, and what it means to all of us on both a global and human level if we lose them.

Home is where we grow up or settle permanently. And this home is always shaped by nature. Today, we human beings change and shape this more than any law of nature. HEIMAT NATUR is a visually stunning journey through the nature of our homeland, from the peaks of the Alps to the coasts and the depths of the North and Baltic Seas. In between is a cinematic foray through steaming forests, shimmering moors, over rose-blossoming heaths and the colorful cultural landscape around our villages and towns. In extraordinary images this nature is shown from its most beautiful side, examining the state of the native habitats. Slow-motion and time-lapse photography as well as intimate shots of familiar and unfamiliar species, some filmed for the first time, making the film a cinematic nature experience for the whole family.

Jürgen Friedrich Mahrt (1882-1940) left behind a large collection of taxidermied birds and butterflies, as well as countless photographs, documenting the wildlife habitats of his time, many of which no longer exist today. His great-granddaughter has the collections analyzed by experts.

In Iceland, volcanoes line up like pearls on a string. In the mountains and valleys the ground boils. It smokes, hisses and bubbles. Although rising from the sea as a bare lava island, life thrives on Iceland's volcanic slopes. Whether in icy heights or abysmal crevasses that tell of the fact that the earth is tearing apart here, between the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates - Iceland is a natural paradise. Magical Iceland: Living on the World's Largest Volcanic Island is a testament to the island's unexpected biodiversity and spectacular landscapes, both above and below the water.

"What Is Wilderness?" asks what wilderness actually is. We learn that the greatest biodiversity occurs where large grazing animals are part of the habitat, yet the species-rich megafauna that once existed disappeared from Europe with the arrival of modern humans. Domestic animals, too, can provide the same “ecosystem engineering services” when they graze in the right numbers as substitutes for the large herbivores that have been driven to extinction. This offers an opportunity for our future, not only because wild pastures have been shown to store more carbon than forests. Wherever many natural processes are allowed to take place, we can achieve a state that resembles wilderness. Perhaps it is a new kind of wilderness, but one that is beneficial and important for biodiversity, animal welfare, and the climate.

In the Southeastern-most part of Germany, rises Mount Watzmann. This mighty peak is a stone guardian of a remarkable wild region that holds tight to its secret nature. There are more secrets to reveal where the mountains disappear into the depths of Lake Königssee, a lake that holds a stark resemblance to a fjord at the coasts of the Atlantic ocean. Underwater, fossil marine creatures in limestone rock tell of an ancient seabed, buried deep then heaved skywards by battling tectonic plates. Deep grooves and gouges in the rock were left by an ice age glacier, more than one kilometer thick as it chiseled its way down the valley. Though the ice age ended 12,000 years ago, the mountains still carry echoes of that frozen past. "Echoes of the Ice Age" is a portrait of the wildlife in this breathtaking scenery of the Berchtesgaden Alps.

In Germany, the forest is more than the sum of its trees: it is a myth, the backdrop to a grand German drama. When one looks at German cultural history, it is easy to recognize the forest as a recurring theme—and as a topos to which people repeatedly returned in their search for a national identity. German culture, it is said, has its roots in the forest, at least since Germanic warriors defeated the Romans in the Battle of Varus. During the Romantic era, the forest became a place of longing; it was painted, written about in poetry, and celebrated in song—and at the same time, it once again became a symbol of national sovereignty. The Nazis exploited it for their racist ideology—and the “homeland films” of postwar German cinema used it to portray their idealized vision of an unspoiled world. The environmental movement of the 1980s feared for its national sanctuary during the debate on forest dieback—and activists lived in the highest treetops to protect trees from being cut down.