Original subtitles

They didn't expect to see what they saw.

And when they saw it, they could never forget it.

Ferdinand Hayden was hired to lead a team

into the Northwest Territories.

And the 32 men headed west.

They weren't here to protect Yellowstone.

They were here to tear it to shreds in the name of progress.

Gold interests, railroad barons, Congress.

Powerful people wanted this land for themselves.

But something happened during their three month journey,

and slowly but surely, their mission changed.

So as we celebrate the 150th anniversary

of Yellowstone National Park,

we take a look back in time at the events

that led to the preservation of this magical place.

What's the day?

April 25th, 26th?

Most the country's thawing out

celebrating the arrival of spring, but not here, man.

This is Yellowstone, eight months a year.

You know, the crazy thing is that 98%

of the people who come to visit will never see it like this.

If you ask me, this is a way to do it.

It's perfect.

It's just perfect.

Ferdinand Hayden tried to survey this area in 1862.

Planned it perfectly.

You know, he came out in the summer,

but then a huge storm in late June

made the mountains impassable.

Took him nine more years to make it back here.

It's a good thing he did.

Yellowstone in the winter is a thing of beauty.

On an average year, 150 inches of snow will fall.

And at higher elevations it's often twice that.

More than six months a year it looks like this.

Even the summer months aren't safe

from the occasional snowfall.

In one of Yellowstone's most spectacular winter sites

diamond dust floats through the air

like a cloud of tiny mirrors.

It gets so cold here that water vapor crystallizes.

It is both beautiful,

and cruel.

Some will endure its challenges,

while others seek out safe havens in lower elevations.

Some will burrow in dens and wait out the season.

While others thrive in a wild

that has turned in their favor.

But one thing is certain,

in Yellowstone winner cannot be ignored.

The American bison is the largest

land mammal in North America.

They've lived in Yellowstone continuously

since prehistoric times.

You ever look at a bison and wonder

why they have those massive humps?

It's a perfectly evolved adaptation to deal with the snow.

Most ungulates forge for grass by breaking up

the snow with their hooves.

That won't work here in Yellowstone.

The snow's too heavy, too deep.

So the bison evolve massive neck muscles that power

their enormous head side to side like a snowplow

exposing the grass underneath.

The temperature here can get

as low as negative 60 degrees Fahrenheit.

So it's good to pack a heavy coat.

The bison's is so heavy that their body heat

doesn't even melt the snow that collects on their fur.

Their skin thickens in winter

and fatty deposits keep them warm from the inside.

But even the perfectly adapted bison have

to fight to survive every winter.

If it snows too much,

they can't access the grass

they need to fuel their massive bodies.

When the Hayden expedition first came to Yellowstone

they took note not only of the largest herd

that roamed the valleys, but also the large number

of dead bison that fed the parks predators.

Their left over after the unrelenting winner

culls the herd.

The harsh conditions kill one

out of 10 bison every year.

This has become known simply as winter kill.

It provides predators in the park

with as much as 800,000 pounds of meat each winter.

Everyone wants a piece of the action,

because the window of opportunity is small.

The next snowstorm is usually just hours away

and anything left uneaten will be buried until spring.

Hoping to avoid that fate,

these bison endure long migration

to lower elevations.

Were super heated water beneath the surface

melts the snow above.

There they will find the grass

they need to survive until spring.

Every living thing in Yellowstone spends

at least half the year battling the harsh conditions.

It was something the pioneers

on the Hayden Expedition wanted to avoid dealing with,

making their journey in the summer.

But they quickly found out

that even the best laid plans

can be undone quickly here.

And so did I.

You know, sometimes I find myself wondering

whose brilliant idea was this.

Usually when that happens, I'm the culprit.

But man, Yellowstone and the stone cold,

it's no country for the faint of heart.

I mean, the animals have had millions

of years to adapt to the conditions.

And even still, there's plenty that don't make it.

Being here makes me think about George Allen.

One of the two journals to survive

through time was Allen's.

He was a geologist in Hayden's mentor.

He was one of the older gentlemen on the expedition.

And sometime in the,

sometime in late July in 1871,

another big storm blew through and it buried everything.

And Alan was in his tent shivering,

kinda same way as I am right now.

And he wrote about,

he wrote about how miserable he was.

Wasn't sure he'd survived the expedition.

He left the next day.

That's probably a good decision.

Probably a really good decision.

Yellowstone National Park is an easy place to visit,

but living here, that's anything but easy.

Every species that has managed to survive

the winters has only done so through adaptation.

These river otters are perfectly adapted to the conditions.

Thick hair protects warm skin from cold water.

That's why their pelts were so sought after

by the hunters and trappers

who made their way to the Yellowstone region

long before Hayden and his men.

The otter furs were in high demand

by the wealthiest people back east,

because of the warmth they provided

and the luster of the fur.

Today, the otters in Yellowstone

don't have to worry about trappers.

Their battle is keeping themselves fed

during the cold winter months.

The steady supply of fish

and open water can only be counted on in the warmer months.

The winter freeze chokes off the river,

cutting off the food supply for the mother and her two pups.

They go from one hole in the ice to another

in search of a meal.

But with every fish they pull from the icy depths,

the supplies lessened.

And soon this family will need to find a new place to fish.

River otters may reign supreme in water,

but on land it's a different story together.

Here they go from hunter to hunted.

Alternating between hopping and sliding,

they can reach speeds

of 15 miles per hour through the heavy snow.

They'll need that speed

as they search for a new fishing hole.

And predators are abound.

While the otter family struggles against the cold and snow,

wolfs thrive.

In these conditions, they're top dog.

But winter brings territorial disputes,

and at times unbridled savagery.

This is when strong packs expand

and weak packs die off.

The druid pack once rained supreme in this area,

only to wither in recent years

as Molly's pack has taken the throne.

But with success comes problems

and Molly's pack already finds itself in turmoil.

Rival packs are constantly on the lookout for new territory.

Recently a pack of 15 wolves traveled 40 miles outside

of their territory to take on another pack.

Securing territory is key to their survival.

More land means more hunting grounds.

In winter, elk is the main thing on the menu for this pack.

90% of their diet is elk during this cold period.

An elk cow has been separated from the harem.

And even with strength in numbers

fighting off a wolf pack is a hero's task.

The wolves move on to high ground

and when the sun goes down, they will strike.

When they do, they'll announce it to the world.

The wolf's ability to hunt

elk doesn't just keep them well fed.

It keeps the park in balance.

By thinning out oversized elk populations

and cutting down the weak and sick among them

they leave stronger, more resilient elk herds behind.

The elk cow has made a good meal,

but it's not enough.

It's never enough.

These wolves need more calories in the winter.

Moving through heavy snow

and maintaining body heat requires more energy.

So they're on the prowl for more,

and always will be.

Like I said, it's an easy place to visit,

tough place to live.

This male bobcat is another creature

that will fight to survive all winter long.

Every meal will be a battle.

A duck, now that's good eating.

It could keep him fed for several days.

He typically prowls the conifer forest of Yellowstone.

But desperate times call for desperate measures.

And he comes into the open today.

His small feet and short legs

aren't built for the loose snow.

And despite his appetite

he's hesitant to get into the cold water.

Though the bobcat is a skilled hunter

this isn't a fair fight.

He's out of his element.

Finding meals will only get harder as winter continues

and fat stores and energy reserves dwindle.

And if the bobcat is going to feed,

all he can do is buy his time

and wait for the right opportunity.

As lovely as the sight is,

as lucid and clean the fallen snow,

I can't help but think

of the chaos that winter brings with it.

Ever been to a bonfire?

You know, that's how when you

first show up people are all spread out.

Maybe there's a few around the fire

but you got some people over here

and you got another group over there.

Then it gets late and night grows cold.

Eventually, every last person that's huddled

around that fire.

That down there,

that's a bonfire.

When it gets warmer

the animals spread out and make their way up

the ranges all the way to the peaks.

Then when the snow comes,

they head back down to the Valley seeking refuge,

creatures that have absolutely

no interest in being friends huddle around that fire.

When it gets 30, 40 degrees below zero

that fire dims and they huddle even closer.

That's when all hell breaks loose.

The large herds that graze the valleys

in spring and summer have broken into smaller groups

as they migrate toward the lower elevations.

And no one is more aware of this

than the wolves who track these smaller herds

as they migrate towards the bonfire.

These bison have traveled 40 miles

to reach the geyser basin.

For a migration that began weeks ago.

The steam from the thermal vents is a welcome site,

but the warmth of the thermals draws in predator and prey.

The bison herd arrives at the geyser basin.

The super volcano beneath the Earth's surface fights

against the cold above,

sending steam outward,

melting the snow and exposing the grass.

But there is a downside to grazing here.

The grass that grows near the thermal has less nutrients

and the long journey to get here took a lot

out of the bison.

By the time they arrive

they're at their weakest.

And wolves are opportunists.

They've traveled across the park to greet

the bison at the bonfire, just like they do every winter.

Taking on a herd of healthy bison at full strength

isn't worth the effort,

but in their tired, weakened state,

the wolves will come.

With the sun setting, the attack is imminent.

Under the cover of darkness they strike,

and by the time the sun rises,

the wolves are finishing their meal.

They'll eat as much as 20 pounds

of meat each on a kill like this.

With their bellies full,

the wolves will leave the bison herd alone today.

Tonight will be a different story.

Back at the riverbank,

the starving bobcat continues his fight for survival.

He needs a meal, and soon.

A musk rat may not taste as good as a duck,

but it'll have to do.

The semi-aquatic musk rat builds his burrow

on the river bank.

Little does he know he's being hunted.

The bobcat was reluctant to jump

into the freezing water to catch the duck,

but he's one day hungrier.

One day more desperate.

Another meal has slipped away.

It's going to be a long winter for the bobcat.

If his luck doesn't change soon, it may be a short one.

At the higher elevations,

Yellowstone's big horn sheep fight

their own battle every winter.

The big horn sheep in Yellowstone descend

from sheep that left Siberia

and migrated across the Bering land bridge.

750,000 years ago,

they became the primary source

of food for the indigenous Tukudika tribe

who lived in Yellowstone thousands of years

before Hayden ever set foot there.

Tukudika is roughly translated to eaters

of the mountain sheep,

and the tribes lived at high elevations

where the big horn was plentiful.

They used the sheep not only for food,

but by warming their horns in Yellowstone's thermal waters,

they could shape them into extremely durable bows.

There used to be millions of big horns spread

across the Western United States,

today there are fewer than 70,000.

And each winter, Yellowstone's big horn

decide who gets to mate this year and who doesn't.

Through a series of battles,

toughest males established dominance,

only they will have breeding rights.

A fully grown ram can weigh 300 pounds,

40 of which are held in their horns.

Their skulls have two layers of cushion above

the brain which absorb the impact of the collision.

The sounds of winter are almost as incredible

as the sights.

Almost is incredible.

There's something majestic about the snow covered peaks.

Something inspiring about seeing the wild world.

Unchanged by the hands of man.

Unchanged by the hands of time.

I don't think I'm any different than anyone else.

We all grew up in different places.

I grew up in the inner city.

I was born in a place called Compton, California.

But I remember when I got my first glimpse

of the Rocky Mountains.

You know, it was like the scales came off my eyes

and I thought could there be a place like this in the world?

The reality is that America's so big,

and Yellowstone reminds you

of what the country might have looked

like before there was any outsiders that ever came,

and to know that the rivers still flow

and these mountains still stand.

There is something that we should be thankful for,

the human will to convince other people

that this is worth keeping.

It wasn't a battle and it was uphill

but it was about one man who believed he had

an idea about himself, so much so that he knew

if given the chance he could change the world.

Ferdinand Hayden's determination to convince the US

Congress to protect Yellowstone

rather than let it be torn apart is

the reason we can tell these stories today.

It's the reason that the bobcats and bison,

and wolves have this pristine landscape to roam,

to breed, to fight, and to survive.

Survival is the name of the game in winter.

The river otters continue their desperate trek

to find a new food source.

They've made their way

to a place where the water never freezes.

The upper falls.

Water crashing from the falls churns the pool below,

preventing it from freezing.

But the fishing hole is 109 feet down.

In the summer of 1871,

Hayden and his men used ropes to traverse the falls

as they explored Yellowstone.

Believe it or not, these otters don't have any ropes.

But the snow creates another opportunity.

Mom teaches the pups the art of sledding.

The otter family makes it to their new fishing hole.

They're back in their element, and soon they'll die.

They found a workaround for the winter conditions

and food here will be abundant.

The bobcat isn't so lucky,

the pangs of hunger are overwhelming

and he is in desperate search of food.

At this point, he'll settle for anything.

It's all or nothing.

The time to strike is now.

Finally, the bobcat has his dinner.

His chances of surviving the winter

just got a little better.

Yellowstone in winter is iconic.

A world of ice,

and fire.

A world where every creature

fights their own battle every single day.

But if not for the pioneers who made

the decision to protect this place 150 years ago,

we'd never know that it even existed.

You know, I don't know

if there's another place on Earth that gives you

the evocative spectacle of nature

that Yellowstone does in the snow.

And being here, seeing it firsthand,

makes me wonder what if,

what if Hayden and his team never came here?

What if they'd been delayed a year

and people had set up gold mines?

What if their plan to protect this place didn't work?

And the truth was, it almost didn't.

There was a photographer named Anton Sean Burn.

He was part of the expedition

and he was a big part of Hayden's plan.

He took all the notes they were gonna use

to create the maps that they were gonna present

to Congress and those maps were gonna be crucial

in getting Yellowstone protected,

then just days before he was gonna meet,

meet Hayden in Washington DC, he killed himself.

Turns out that six days earlier

the great Chicago fire had destroyed

a huge amount of the data collected on the expedition.

It was tragic, of course,

but it was a disaster for Hayden,

and he needed to act fast.

Hayden knew that a watershed moment was upon him.

He knew that the wolves were at the gates

and the snow was the only thing keeping them out.

For when spring arrived,

the destruction of Yellowstone would begin in force.

The vandals who are waiting to enter this wonderland

will in a single season be spoiled beyond recovery

these remarkable curiosities,

which have required all the cunning skill

of nature of thousands of years to prepare.

With that said, Hayden cast the first stone

to protect the land that he'd grown to love.

You know, Hayden predicted they would come

in droves to destroy this place once the winter

released the land from its clutches.

His words, not mine, but boy was he right.

Spring finally came in 1872,

and one after another,

the profiteers started filing their claims,

100, 150, 200 acres at a time.

The claims poured into the public land office.

Everything from gold to silver to medicinal spring water.

Every damn thing we've seen had a claim filed on it.

And the miracle of it all was

that every single claim that was filed that year,

every single one was denied.

Because you see, eight days earlier,

President Ulysses S. Grant signed Hayden's bill into law.

The National Park system was created

just in the nick of time,

and Yellowstone was saved by eight days.

You know, that's not a fairytale.

It's not a Hollywood ending,

it's just how close it all was to going.

No one alive today would even know this land even existed.

Thank God for that snow, huh?

- Let's go, pal.