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It's the start of a new year
in the world's first national park.
The low light of dawn is no obstacle for
an iconic showdown.
The white alpha female of the Wapiti pack
is the oldest wolf in Yellowstone.
She has traversed this landscape for 11 years,
over twice as long as
the average wolf in Yellowstone.
The alpha female knows a full-grown bison
is no easy target.
Younger wolves test their limits.
Leadership sometimes means
progressing with caution.
Home to the largest wild bison herd in America,
Yellowstone has always been a trailblazer,
the first of its kind.
Following their wise matriarch,
the pack advances,
navigating around the bison herd
towards new prospects.
This is Yellowstone National Park.
The majority of the wolves make their way
beyond the bison and join the pack.
But some subordinate wolves
can't resist the thrill of the chase.
While the bison have numbers on their side,
rather than put up with the pestering of young wolves,
they move on.
As much as a grueling season presents challenges,
it wasn't the freeze that nearly exterminated bison
in North America.
Euro-American westward expansion
brought the slaughter of millions of bison
across the Great Plains.
At the low point, less than two dozen
wild bison remained.
They managed to survive in a secluded area
hidden deep in the park's interior.
In Yellowstone, bison made their comeback.
Today, around 6,000 roam free.
The herd finds a natural heat source
where geysers and hot springs
clear the ground of snow.
If the bison consume too much here,
they risk ingesting heavy metals
from the hydrothermal surroundings.
The same features tempting the herd
are responsible for the very existence
of Yellowstone National Park.
In the late 1800s,
westward expeditions entered an otherworldly domain,
a place where Native Americans had lived for over 10,000 years.
Before explorers returned east with visual evidence,
they wrote of colorful pools
and water exploding into the air.
The photos of William H. Jackson
and paintings of Thomas Moran
proved that this magical land was in fact real.
In 1872, convinced that such spectacle
needed protection,
President Ulysses S. Grant signed the world's
first national park into existence.
The bison herd must still brave a long winter ahead,
and they aren't the only animals facing Yellowstone's
least forgiving season.
A lone coyote follows the path
cleared of snow by its oversized neighbors.
No threat to the bison,
the coyote may be able to find food
along their trail.
But not today.
The mice and voles she's after
remain unseen and unheard.
The small canine shifts her focus,
looking for other signs of movement.
She resets her course alongside the flow of
the Yellowstone River.
Just ahead, something catches her eye.
A family of otters, bounding through the snow.
The coyote would relish an otter as a feast,
but the river provides an escape
from the exposure of the white canvas.
Water-repellent coats are key to survival
in these icy waters.
The question is whether or not the
coyote can follow.
River otters excel at hunting here.
And the coyote?
Well, it turns out she's no match for
this fierce group.
For the coyote, the ice-cold current is
just another test.
In the park's season of white,
the coyote has to survive temperatures
plunging well below zero.
Flowing through the frozen expanse,
the Yellowstone River is a thoroughfare
and the best chance of a meal,
beckoning animals to follow its
meandering path north.
But in the distance, something changes.
Through the ages, a relentless force has
carved its own path.
The sound of rushing water intensifies,
cueing the coyote to head inland.
The Yellowstone River basin,
made of volcanic rock softens
and becomes less stable.
Elevation plummets,
and the smooth-sailing river falls.
Rather than meet the roaring water,
the coyote redirects her route.
The call of ravens signals a promising opportunity.
At last, hope for a meal.
Highly intelligent ravens and coyotes
have something in common.
They are both master scavengers.
But the presence of the true architects
of this feast looms.
The coyote has to hurry.
The cold of Yellowstone's winter
acts as a natural refrigerator.
And the Wapiti wolves return to their elk kill
over several days.
Even if her stomach still growls,
the coyote must flee.
More compelling than the kindred scavenger,
the ravens take note of this entrance
and clear out.
Yellowstone has a long and complex history
with its wolf population.
For decades, wolves were absent from this landscape,
having been eradicated by early park managers
who saw them as a threat.
But in the 1990s, a bold decision
was made to bring them back.
The reintroduction made Yellowstone
one of the best places in the world
to view and study wolves.
The Wapiti wolves are keenly aware
that something is missing from this scene.
The white alpha female draws everyone's attention.
As the oldest wolf in Yellowstone,
her pace slows.
But her presence still intimidates some.
For her pack, the arrival of the matriarch
overshadows the interest in the elk carcass.
Yellowstone wolves have shown that most often,
it is the breeding female at the top of the pack.
Just as a dog joyfully wags its tail
when seeing a familiar face,
wild wolves exhibit the same behavior when reunited.
The alpha holds her tail aloft,
marking her as the leader.
Meanwhile, one fearless, lower-ranking wolf
defends the elk carcass.
The wolves of Yellowstone, once vanished,
now returned, embody a profound truth
about our relationship with the natural world.
Humans have the power to reshape
wildlife populations and restore
ecological balance.
But among the wonders of Yellowstone,
there are some realms that predate
humanity itself.
Beneath these boiling springs
lies a supervolcano with enough stored energy
to power the world twice over.
Two enormous magma chambers fuel the park's
surface phenomena.
The earth breathes through geysers,
hot springs, funerals, and mud pots.
There are over 10,000 hydrothermal features
in the park.
Among the expelled gases are
odorless carbon dioxide and the distinct
rotten egg smell of hydrogen sulfide.
But the visible steam is made mostly of
harmless water vapor.
The history of geological formations,
which span millions of years, is vast.
Yellowstone's geysers operate on timetables
full of mystery and variability.
The most famous geyser on earth achieved such notoriety
not because it's the biggest or the hottest,
but because it's predictable.
For as long as records have existed,
Old Faithful has erupted at regular intervals.
But Yellowstone is home to over half of
the world's geysers, and among them,
the rate of eruption is as diverse as it is dynamic.
Some may put on a show every 90 minutes.
But in the Norris Geyser Basin,
one giant slept for 50 years until,
finally, waking up.
Steamboat reigns as the tallest active geyser
on the planet.
Its water soars higher than the Statue of Liberty,
over 300 feet into the air.
Witnessing a major eruption of the unpredictable Titan
is a rare and special event.
From a satellite view,
the park's geothermal features are invisible.
The majority of Yellowstone's 2.2 million acres
lie in Wyoming,
with a sliver of land extending into Montana to the north
and Idaho to the west.
While geysers and hot springs hide at this vantage point,
the biggest story of the biggest story of
To the southwest of the park's border,
in the lowland, free of snow,
is the scar of the supervolcano's past.
In the last 16 million years,
the caldera has exploded over a dozen times,
and as the North American tectonic plate
moves over the hotspot, each subsequent
eruption carves the leading edge of a path.
When viewed as an elevation map,
the trail of the supervolcano marks its power,
meeting a river basin
to make the smiley face of the west,
cutting right into the heart of the Rockies,
a volcano powerful enough to erase mountains.
Today's caldera lies beneath Yellowstone Lake,
the largest high-elevation lake in North America.
It spends the winter in a deep freeze.
Only a few geothermal hotspots near the shore
keep the ice and snow at bay.
But eventually, the seasons catch up.
As ice and snow melts, the water table rises.
Across the park, the landscape transforms.
From high alpine peaks,
millions of gallons of melting water
succumb to gravity.
Once quiet rivers unleash a newfound rush.
On the Yellowstone River, spring's raging flood
meets one of the park's most breathtaking spectacles,
the lower falls.
But these falls are more than just a visual marvel.
They're a testament to the relentless
force of water and time.
Engineers of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone.
During spring runoff, the rush of rapids
poses a challenge.
Dangerous crossroads on the way to new grazing grounds.
Where the smallest family members
face the biggest risk.
The mother of the young calf being swept downriver
breaks the current with her body mass.
With help, the calf crosses safely.
Together, they make a successful passage
to greener pastures.
With the snow's retreat,
the wolves of Yellowstone also roam more freely.
The reintroduction of apex predators creates
a ripple effect.
Their presence helps control elk and deer populations,
encouraging movement and preventing overgrazing.
In turn, once-barren areas flourish with
diverse vegetation,
stabilizing river banks and further supporting a variety
of wildlife down the food chain.
Springtime reveals the new life thriving in
this restored ecosystem.
Bison calves, sometimes called red dogs
for their rusty fur,
contrast their parents' dark brown hues.
In these early days of life,
the relationship between mom and calf is vital.
Outside of mating season,
large males break away from the herd,
leaving the protection of the newly born
to the collective group of matriarchs.
Even amid the large herd,
a mother bison can distinguish her calf from the rest.
This bond ensures that the calves are nurtured
and defended against any potential threats.
Pronghorn antelope share spring pastures with bison.
With big eyes and excellent vision,
they can spot a predator as far as
three miles away.
They also have speed on their side.
As the pronghorn depart, the wolves draw near.
Lacking the ability to swiftly move the entire herd,
the bison become even more cohesive.
The adults form a protective ring around the calves,
their large bodies a formidable barrier.
The line of defense is difficult for
any wolf to cross.
As the pack moves on to less guarded prospects,
the air shifts.
In Yellowstone, storms can come on in an instant.
The unique volcanic-influenced landscape channels
weather systems onto Yellowstone's high plateau.
These downpours play a crucial role
in the park's ecological cycle.
The falling water replenishes hydrothermal systems.
Spring has also awoken one of Yellowstone's
fiercest inhabitants,
but she has lost up to 40% of her body weight
in winter hibernation.
And even in relentless rain,
this sow must rebuild her strength.
The bear's future depends on it.
Thanks to a nose over 2,000 times more acute
than our own,
the world of a grizzly is built of smell.
Their vision, however, is less remarkable.
It's similar to ours.
And sheets of rain can make objects in
the distance obscured.
This sow needs her followers to keep up.
These cubs already know the particular
smell of their mother,
and it helps them to stay close.
Rain releases scents from soil and vegetation,
which might aid in foraging.
Gophers and other rodents gather and store plants
in underground burrows.
As the sow digs, she isn't targeting the
small herbivores.
Instead, mom teaches her young to find cached food
and unearth root systems.
Much like bison and wolves,
it wasn't long ago that the fate of
the grizzly bear in North America
hung in a delicate balance.
By the 1950s, grizzlies were nearly wiped out
from the contiguous United States.
But here, thanks to the expanse of protected lands,
grizzlies persisted,
a last stronghold amidst widespread decline.
Saving some of the world's most beloved animals
has become Yellowstone's trademark.
Today, with over 700 grizzly bears
in the greater Yellowstone ecosystem,
the biggest concerns for a mother
are the threats of nature.
Boars in the same territory pose a serious risk to cubs.
In the quest for dominance,
male bears will kill young grizzlies.
But the cubs still have plenty of
carefree growing to do.
Their only fright, a traveling raven.
As storms subside,
and with the nearest boar on a distant peak...
...mom can let her cubs nurse in safety.
Yellowstone offers sanctuary at every scale,
from immense mountain ranges
to the smallest of nooks.
On the fringe of the park,
one local resident finds refuge
in a less traditional setting.
An abandoned cabin has an unexpected house guest.
This red fox is on high alert,
but she isn't worried about what's inside the cabin.
Her focus is on what lies beneath.
She dug a makeshift den below the old timbers,
and the home had to be made big enough
for more than a few.
Seven kits means many mouths to feed,
and right now, the kits aren't much help.
Mom searches for any voles or mice
taking up residence near the cabin,
but she isn't the only one on the hunt.
Never far away in Yellowstone,
a clever raven hopes to find some food scraps,
but mom refuses to tolerate it.
The fox maintains vigilance,
fending off any animals in competition
with her kits.
But the raven also has the demands
of many to feed.
A symbol of wisdom and adaptability,
the raven has long been part of this landscape.
And much like the raven,
the history of the human presence in Yellowstone
is deeply rooted and rich with knowledge.
Dr. Shane Doyle is an ethno-paleoarchaeologist
and storyteller.
His work in the National Park reveals the depth
of the indigenous connection to this place.
When people visit Yellowstone,
they're driving along the same paths
that native people traversed for thousands
of years on foot before horses.
These trails brought us to some of the
most important places in Yellowstone.
Obsidian Cliff is a massive outcrop
of black volcanic glass.
It yields the sharpest edge of any natural
substance on Earth,
ten times sharper than a razor blade.
Archaeological sites across the continent
contain arrowheads, knives, axes, and awls
that were made from Yellowstone obsidian.
It's as versatile as it is beautiful.
You know, one of the reasons why this
was so widely used was not just because
there was so much of it, but was also because
um, it was easy to find
because the river goes right to it.
Every great trail has a river running through it.
Yellowstone was a cultural nexus of
trade and wonder,
and it maintains that identity today.
150 years after the founding of Yellowstone,
the indigenous people of this special place
gathered to commemorate their shared history
of this remarkable homeland.
Over 30 tribal nations maintain strong connections
to sacred sites within the park.
Yellowstone is beloved as the world's first national park,
but the landscape was not empty or unknown.
My nation, the Apsáalooke, Crow,
know it as Awé Púawishe, the Land of Steam.
Learning about the ancient and contemporary
tribal connection to Yellowstone
gives each of us a greater sense of
place and perspective.
In warmer seasons, Shane's tribe, the Crow,
would travel to what is now known as
Yellowstone's Lamar Valley.
They were drawn by the plants and wildlife,
and most importantly, the bison.
Mature bulls spend most of their time alone.
Given their immense size, they are less reliant on
the security of the herd.
But once a year, they all make a journey,
coming together for a show of strength.
At three months of age,
the calves are now turning color.
By six months, they'll be as dark as their parents.
Right now, they need to stay out of the way
of the newly arriving bulls.
The males bellow a low, rumbling vocalization
to announce their presence.
It's one of the many warm-ups and
displays of dominance,
all leading to the main event, the rut.
The losing bull finally backs up in retreat
and bows his head in deference.
The winner earns the right to mate,
ensuring the success of the future herd.
Each day in Yellowstone sets the stage
for the changes of tomorrow.
Persistence will help a wily scavenger
find a meal.
Young explorers get to know the diversity of their world,
while the oldest and wisest
lead with a tail held high.
The cover of an old cabin is traded
for the camouflage of tall grass.
Ancient underground forces soar into clear view.
Yellowstone is even more than a sanctuary for wildlife.
It is a stronghold of biodiversity.
The world's first national park,
is a testament to the power of preservation,
and a reminder of our responsibility
to safeguard these wild places
for generations to come.
Captioned by Cotter Media Group.
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