Original subtitles

Summer in Badlands National Park.

Home to the country's largest mammal,

weighing 2,000 pounds...

...the American bison.

Badlands is the perfect stage for their annual rut.

One of the greatest heavyweight bouts in the natural world.

The reigning champion, a big, old bull.

Only winners get the chance to breed.

Today he loses his crown.

The old bull retreats.

He'll wait a year to have another shot.

To regain his strength, he needs help.

In the Badlands, it comes from a surprising place.

He's just got to find it.

AMERICA'S NATIONAL PARK BADLANDS

Badlands National Park, South Dakota.

244,000 acres split into two dramatic worlds.

The rocky Badlands themselves,

carved out of the ground by wind and rain.

Beyond them, an ancient sea of grass.

Home to the icons of the Old West.

This land has a long and deep connection

to the indigenous peoples of America.

It's the current and traditional land of the Oglala Lakota tribe.

For 12,000 years, people have used these lands,

but prairie dogs have been here even longer.

A female black-tailed prairie dog lives on the grasslands

in a family group known as a coterie.

In spring it's time for her to start a family.

After mating, she maintains her burrow

and collects nesting material.

In doing so, she becomes an eco-engineer.

Her constant gardening benefits over 100 species.

In the sprawling sea of grass,

the prairie dog town is an island of life,

drawing in species from far and wide...

...including predators.

Prairie dogs are the perfect snack for the coyote.

The female's quest to start a family could be over before it's started.

She's completely oblivious to the threat.

However, the prairie dog has allies.

Her neighbors are on high alert.

Each prairie dog town

comes with its own built-in alarm system.

It's one of the most complex animal languages ever decoded,

with specific calls for different threats.

The coyote is spotted, and short chirps call him out.

He literally has nowhere to hide.

With the threat gone, they give the all-clear signal...

...a jump-yip.

The key to thriving in the Badlands

is looking out for each other.

Badlands became a national park in 1978.

The name, an homage to the Lakota people.

Hundreds of years before the first national park,

they named this land mako sica, "land bad."

The rocky features are also called Badlands,

formed by a process that began 75 million years ago

as layer upon layer of sediment built up.

Colored bands show it's been a jungle, a swamp,

and an ancient ocean floor.

Each has left its mark like pages in a history book.

They may look hostile to life, but for one specialist,

it's the ideal place to raise a family.

For bighorn sheep, the Badlands are the perfect mix

of protective fortress and giant playpen.

The flock is brimming with lambs,

with no apparent fear of heights.

This female was born with all the climbing gear she needs.

But she still has to learn how to use it.

She's encouraged to start climbing,

even though one false move

could send her tumbling hundreds of feet.

Just weeks after birth,

these lambs already look like experts:

sure-footed, agile and fearless.

But the Badlands are treacherous.

Despite their confidence, not every jump goes to plan.

Suddenly this nursery is missing a lamb.

She's fallen down a canyon and has a serious wound on her back.

Badlands rock shears like rough sandpaper.

The lamb's inexperience shows.

She's going down where she should be climbing up.

As the sun goes down...

...she finds herself alone.

This canyon is a natural echo chamber.

Her cries for help will either save her

or ring the dinner bell.

The lamb survives the night.

Two million bighorns once roamed some of America's toughest terrain,

but like many animals, they've faced a steep decline.

Today, Badlands National Park is a sanctuary

for around 250 bighorns.

While rocky peaks offer safety,

down on the open prairie,

an unusual spring ritual begins.

Male sharp-tailed grouse gather together

in a group called a lek.

They're here for a dance competition.

The best movers will win the chance to mate.

The park's flat land and short grass provide the perfect dance floor...

...where the hens are the judges.

They scout prospective partners from the sidelines.

With the stage set, the males go toe-to-toe.

Performers rapidly stamp their feet and shake their tail feathers.

Each defends his own spot.

If a dancer doesn't back down...

...they settle it the old-fashioned way.

It's no holds barred.

Despite their best efforts, the boys haven't impressed the hen,

but she doesn't have to choose today.

The dance floor closes one hour after sunrise.

Competitors will be back every morning for the next few weeks

to prove their worth in the grasslands of the prairie.

Badlands National Park is dominated by grass.

It's America's largest mixed-grass ecosystem,

where short grass from the west

meets long grass from the east.

Home to a greater number of plant species

than any other type of prairie.

But for herbivores in the park, not all grass is the same.

For the battle-weary bison,

this is what he's been looking for: prairie dogs.

To regain his strength, he needs nutrient-rich feeding grounds.

The grass may be short,

but thanks to the prairie dogs, it's the best in the park.

There's plenty to go around...

...so he's given the all-clear.

As they graze around their homes,

they leave the plants in a constant state of new growth,

making them higher in protein than the rest of the plains.

The bison can relax after a big meal,

but there's no rest for the prairie dog gardeners.

This female's burrow has been used by many generations.

It takes a lot of effort to keep it in shape.

Her hard work doesn't just keep things tidy,

it also has a large impact on the park.

She recycles the nutrients in the soil,

nourishing more plants and flowers for everyone to eat.

Distracted, she doesn't notice an intruder.

The first burrowing owl has arrived.

He's flown all the way from Mexico to Badlands National Park to breed.

Now he's got to find a home before his mate arrives.

Despite his name,

this burrowing owl seldom bothers to burrow.

Why make your own when the work's already done?

The old prairie dog burrow looks perfect.

Good views of the grasslands.

With its own guard dogs for spotting any threats.

Prime real estate secured, he hopes his mate will arrive soon.

Until then he has nothing to do but wait...

...and wait some more.

A few days after the male lands in the park,

his mate arrives from Mexico.

Somewhat fashionably late.

She's got high expectations,

and immediately inspects their potential home.

It's just the right size to raise a family.

He showers her with housewarming gifts.

Nothing impresses female burrowing owls

more than a big, juicy beetle.

Soon the pair will breed,

and the female will lay her eggs safely in the burrow.

While some travel over a thousand miles to create new life in the park,

others come to see the life that was here long ago.

Badlands National Park contains one of the world's richest fossil beds.

Relics of sabertooth cats,

the ancient ancestors of rhinos and tortoise have been found here.

A Lakota legend tells of a giant serpent,

longer than 100 bison.

Two brothers attacked her and fired magic arrows.

Her death throes tore up the land.

Her remains created the Badlands.

And they shift and erode by an inch a year.

Eventually, wind and rain will wear them down completely.

Storms are rare here, but can be intense.

Even a short downpour can reshape these ancient features.

On the northern side of the park, Sage Creek,

one of only a handful of rivers, is revitalized by rainfall.

A thirsty traveler has come to drink.

A cliff swallow.

He and many others have flown almost 3,000 miles to be here,

all the way from South America.

He's spent the last few days scouting the park with his mate,

for the perfect spot to set up home.

It's got to check all the right boxes,

shade from the midday sun,

hard for predators to reach, and near water.

Once the females give approval,

the colony launches into action.

Rains aren't only good for drinking,

they also wash sediment down to the valley.

Mud, made from half a million years of erosion,

is the perfect nest-building material.

The land where sabertooth cats once roamed is now cement for the swallows.

But with each nest taking a thousand beakfuls,

they've got a lot of work to do.

The rain that helps swallows build homes

also revitalized the grassland.

Life around the prairie dog town is beginning to thrive.

A herd of bison arrive to graze on the never-ending supply of lush grass.

But bison now occupy less than one percent

of their historical range.

For a long time, they were nothing but a memory here.

Until, in 1963, a handful were released

into what is now Badlands National Park.

Less than 60 years later, that handful has risen...

...to over 1,000 strong.

Today, Badlands National Park is a glimpse into our past.

Nearly half of all temperate grasslands worldwide have been lost.

They are the most endangered ecosystem on Earth.

The park is an island of hope.

As bison repopulate the prairie, life flourishes.

Each one, on average, produces up to 12 quarts of dung,

and gallons of urine every day.

A natural fertilizer packed with chemicals and nutrients

like nitrogen, phosphorus, and calcium,

all amazing for growing plants.

The prairie dog helps the bison,

the bison help the grasslands.

A key relationship that shapes the Great Plains.

When habitats are protected, wildlife can thrive.

The bison have left quite the mess.

The burrowing owl is on clean-up duty.

Dung is good for the grass,

and the smell helps hide his nest from predators.

He's not the only one taking advantage of this natural resource.

So does a rainbow scarab beetle.

For him, dung is an irresistible meal.

He's not eaten in months.

All he has to do is get to it

without being squashed by an oblivious bison.

But it's the burrowing owl the beetle should be more worried about,

still on the hunt for presents.

The beetle would make an impressive gift.

Time for a swift exit.

He's not the most graceful flyer.

But he's found what he was looking for.

He's not alone.

Amongst the grunting bison and the yipping prairie dogs,

it's love at first sight.

After a quick meal, time to get down to business.

The love bugs burrow into their new home.

Working together, they create a series of tunnels.

Some will act as a pantry,

but this lower chamber will hold something more precious.

Deep inside she has laid an egg.

The dung will provide enough food to see their offspring through winter.

If it wasn't for the beetles,

the grasslands would be knee-deep in dung,

which wouldn't be much fun for the prairie dogs

or their new visitors.

Badlands is visited by close to a million tourists a year

who come here to hike, take in the sights,

and rest in beautiful campsites.

Now is the best time to be in a prairie dog town.

It's pupping season.

Curious pups are popping up all over Badlands National Park.

Mom has her hands full.

She's spent the last few weeks tending to her young

in the safety of her burrow.

It's time to introduce them to the outside world.

Bison must look so odd.

Closer to home, there's something even more scary,

their jealous aunt.

As mom tidies her burrow,

dirt is promptly kicked back in her face.

It's a family feud that's been brewing for weeks.

The aunt doesn't like sharing space.

Tempers are fraying.

It's a literal turf war.

The new mom has had enough.

There is no misreading this signal.

That should be the end of it.

But this dog won't let it lie.

Mom has to teach her sister a lesson.

With teeth and claws made for digging, they are formidable fighters.

Serious injuries can occur.

Family. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.

Nobody messes with a mom and her pups.

All clear.

The war is over.

The old bull's strength is back,

but while everyone is building a home or starting a family,

he remains, sadly, alone.

He finds his own source of comfort.

a scratching post.

Park rangers have installed a number of posts and signs,

perfect to target those hard-to-reach itches.

But his peace is short-lived.

Weather can change quickly in the Badlands,

even in the summer.

Storms bring vital rain to the park

that has begun to dry out under months of hot sun.

But for some, rain can be disastrous.

Like the Badlands, the cliff swallows' home is eroding.

Water brought them here, but now it's destroyed their home.

Floodwater has caused the rock face to collapse.

The colony is gone.

There's barely a sign they were ever here.

But swallows are industrious.

Just days later, they've wasted no time.

Their nests rebuilt under a bridge.

Once confined to the cliff faces of western America,

the expansion of roads and bridges has extended the cliff swallows' range.

The pair are now living in a first-class high-rise.

The swallows have a great view.

Even if they are a little tightly packed together.

The bridge is now a swallow city with its own rush hour.

But it's no utopia.

A bull snake has found the swallows.

But he's not here for them.

The bull snake will eat a cliff swallow if given the chance.

There's little the birds can do to fight him off.

But he's looking for a less feathery meal,

the swallows' eggs.

The cliff swallow can take her chances and stay with her eggs or flee.

This early into the breeding season, it's simply not worth the risk.

The pair still has time to start again.

The burrowing owls spent the storm in the safety of their burrow.

As they emerge, they are not alone.

The first chick is eager to see the world.

It's very hungry.

Feeding one chick is hard work.

Feeding two is a challenge.

Mom guards, Dad hunts.

It's relentless.

Now there's three chicks.

Five chicks.

And imagine his surprise when the tired dad returns

to find seven mouths to feed.

In a week, the chicks double in size.

Just when he thinks he can get some rest,

a latecomer arrives,

dwarfed by his siblings.

He's got some serious catching up to do.

If he's gonna get fed, he's got to toughen up.

Try as he might, he can't get to the front of the line.

Late-hatching chicks don't often make it to adulthood.

But in the insect-rich prairie dog town, there's plenty to eat.

He finally gets fed.

Revitalized, he's back in the game.

On your marks, get set, go.

The little burrowing owl finally learns the meaning of a food coma.

It's been a year, and the old bison finally returns to the battleground.

With the help of Badlands National Park

and its prairie dogs, he's back to full strength.

The herd gathers for the epic rut fought in the very heart of the park.

Contenders arrive.

Old enemies reunite.

This could be the old bull's last chance at domination...

...and to leave a dynasty.

At last year's rut, the old bull was beaten and weak.

But the park has brought him back to life.

He's ready to rut.

Each female must be won over,

then shielded from rival males.

First, a roll in the dust shows he is fighting fit.

It's his day of reckoning.

2,000 pounds of muscle looking for a fight.

But not just one fight.

Fight...

after fight...

after fight.

And so far, so good.

But a new arrival is bigger.

This is everything the old bull has been preparing for.

There's no backing down now.

Challenge accepted.

The pair are evenly matched,

but the old bull has experience.

The rival concedes...

and retreats.

The old bull claims a hard-won victory.

It's his glory day.

His blood will run in the next generation.

Protected, his offspring will flourish in the park

and build on the rising number of bison native to this land.

The reintroduction of bison into the Badlands National Park

is a success story to witness.

It cements a new chapter in the history of this land.

The Badlands are a sanctuary for wildlife.

Amongst the fossils, new life blooms.

Icons now returned,

the guardians of the Great Plains are back

to maintain this wilderness for years to come.

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