Narrator: The desert...
a land larger than legend...
and harder than hell.
We've tried to subdue it, fence it in.
But the desert won't be tamed.
The characters who live here have to be tough...
heroes...renegades...outlaws.
They are the good...
the bad...
and the wild.
It's high noon...deep in the wild desert West.
A stranger's on the prowl.
He's an outlaw.
Wanted for the killing of dozens of small desert critters.
And he's looking for more.
The gila monster is coming to town.
This once prosperous mining town...is now just a ghost.
Reclaimed by the wild.
It's home to some shady characters.
But the gila is public enemy number one.
Two feet long...he's packin' neurotoxic venom.
But this outlaw picks mainly on the young...
even the unborn.
The mother quail tries to lure the gila away from her nest.
But he can smell an egg breakfast from
the other side of town.
There's nothing else she can do.
Their sacrifice will keep him going for months.
But this is not his town.
The sheriff runs things here.
And no one eats his townsfolk...but him.
The outlaw won't leave without a fight.
It's a showdown...in the ghost town.
The key to a gila battle...is being on top.
Brawls can take hours.
What gilas lack in speed, they make up for with stamina.
They have thick skin...and are immune to each other's venom.
The outlaw knows he's bested...and backs down.
For the sheriff, victory comes with benefits.
Ruling the town means he gets the local girl!
Rarely seen, gila love can last as long as a fight...hours.
Exiled, the outlaw wanders the desert alone.
The Wild West is an unforgiving place.
Vultures feed off the misfortunes of others.
The desert's undertakers.
The desert looks different from above.
Up here, it's easy to spot your next meal.
While vultures wait for things to die...Harris hawks
take a more active role.
This Harris hawk is no ordinary outlaw...
she's a bandit queen.
She summons her gang.
When they spot a victim, the queen's cry readies the crew.
A cottontail...in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
It's on.
Each member of the gang has a job.
Lower ranking "hired guns" wear the victim out.
Second in command behind the queen is the "enforcer."
His long legs can reach into deep brush.
The bandit queen herself...is the "finisher."
Hunting together they're unstoppable.
But that's where the partnership ends.
This queen is not good at sharing.
She allows her enforcer a bite the rest will have to wait.
Rabbits are at the top of the menu for the gang.
Life is hard when you're delicious.
Danger in the desert comes from above...and below.
Welcome to the hibernaculum-a fancy word for snake pit.
These 20 Western diamondback rattlesnakes have been
cooped up in here for months...
waiting out the winter where it's warm and safe.
At last...the spring's sunlight tells 'em it's time to get up.
With their cold blood warm...it's time breed.
This three-year-old male has never mated before...
but he wants this to be the year.
To get a girl...he must impress one...by winning a duel.
So he picks a fight with the biggest, baddest snake in town.
Over five feet long, Mr. Big is nearly twice the young
challenger's size.
But sometimes in the Wild West, taking on a venom-wielding giant
is the only way to win a mate.
A rattlesnake duel is not exactly a fight...
it's more of a dance.
But it will decide both their fates.
The loser will be banished.
A combat dance-off is all about being tall...
Mr. Big is just too much snake.
The youngster's welcome has worn out.
Homeless and alone...he'll have to find a new place to live
before he bakes to death in the blistering heat.
Any hole will do.
Even if it's occupied.
The desert tortoise is tough tough enough to live up
to 80 years.
But he's too old to have a rattlesnake as a roommate.
As summer heats up...so does the danger for the young rattler.
Threats can come from anywhere..
even an unlikely drifter.
The desert roadrunner can outrun a man.
Yet one bite from the rattlesnake would kill her
in minutes.
But this ornery bird is the fastest draw in the West.
This is just not the young rattlesnake's day.
He dies a virgin.
Life's not always fair out here.
For outsiders...it's even worse.
Mustangs are not native to the desert.
Settlers brought 'em hundreds of years ago.
They survive...because they're tough as nails.
And they still run today.
Every year, Native Americans reunite with the desert horses
for a contest of endurance, as old as the Wild West.
An epic ride that will test both man and mustang.
As summer ends...Blackfoot Indians gather on the high
plains of Montana.
Carpenters, blacksmiths, firefighters...
today they ride with desert mustangs.
Johnna is the only female in the race.
Like most of her competitors, she's ridden since
she could walk.
For much of the year, these wild horses roam the range.
Today, they compete.
12 teams...60 horses...15 miles of unforgiving desert.
May the toughest horses win.
Each rider switches horses four times.
They ride through the land of their ancestors together...
as they have for hundreds of years.
On the final leg, with only a few miles to go...
strength and will are all that's left.
At the finish, honor awaits all who compete.
This race is not just about winning.
It's a reinforcement of the century-old bond between
horse...and rider.
Those tough enough to live in the Wild West share an uncommon
strength...an ability to survive extremes.
Be it blistering heat...or freezing cold.
Chilling highs...or the lowest lows.
All of America's deserts share one unavoidable constant:
They are painfully dry.
Nowhere is drier than the desert's dunes.
They're hot as fire.
To live here, you've got to feel at home...in hell.
Surface temperatures on Arizona's dunes can
top 130 degrees.
Which is why many... wait for nightfall.
As cowboys sleep, aliens emerge from the dark side of the dunes.
By sheer weight, there are more scorpions here than reptiles,
mammals and birds combined.
Around long before the dinosaurs, they wield a
supernatural arsenal.
Their skeleton channels air so sand blows over it,
without getting stuck.
A technology now being mimicked by the world's great militaries.
Tiny hairs sense the vibration of anything moving nearby.
But it's in the shadows where they really shine.
Ultraviolet light makes his photosensitive armor glow.
This may help him sense what's around him...
even in the darkest shadows.
Armed to the claws sand scorpions are
cold-blooded killers.
Their neurotoxic venom...is effective even on relatives.
In a dry year, nearly a third of this scorpion's diet
is scorpion.
The conquering cannibal drags his cousin down to its tomb.
He's not the only loner stalking the wild western night.
Often...you never see 'em coming.
A shovelnose snake looking for a victim.
Nothin'...but sand.
But the night's not over.
With nearly 50 feet and potent venom,
the giant desert centipede is a dangerous foe.
The sand serpent is not immune to the centipede's venom.
But this meal is worth the risk.
It's eat or be eaten in the Wild West.
Daybreak offers no sanctuary.
The sun's perpetual beat down dries what water's here...fast.
For bighorn sheep settling the Anza-Borrego Mountains...
that means a hike to find a drink...300 feet straight down.
This year-old brother and sister stay close to the family.
This is their first time down the mountain.
The bighorn's cloven hooves keep them steady on ledges no wider
than a whiskey bottle.
One slip, and it's a long, bumpy way down.
One of every three bighorn sheep here won't make it to their
first birthday.
What awaits the settlers at the bottom is liquid treasure.
Fed by the winter's snowmelt, the oasis allows bighorns to
drink all summer long.
Sanctuary, in the middle of nowhere.
But the desert's taken its toll.
Frontier life can be brutal one of the lambs is sick.
His sister urges him on anxious to reach the bounty
below.
Finally, he makes it down.
But they can't linger.
These parts are filled with mountain lions...
on the lookout for an easy mark.
They must drink and get back up to the safety of the hills as
soon as possible.
But the sick brother is weak.
He quickly falls behind.
There's nothing his mom and sister can do to help him.
It's getting late.
He has little chance of surviving the desert night
alone.
Mom can't risk leaving her healthy daughter to look for him
It's any mother's worst nightmare.
More than an hour's passed since mother and daughter bighorn
got home...and still no sign of brother.
He's out there somewhere.
At last...brother makes it home.
He lives to fight another day.
But he'll have to get stronger fast.
The high frontier is no place for the weak.
Deserts are mean...and dry ...and make life hard.
But they do offer everyone a fighting chance.
Sometimes, the means of survival come with spikes.
A saguaro cactus can live 200 years, and can hold enough water
to fill a hot tub...twice-more than three tons.
For many critters, cacti make life in the Sonoran Desert
possible.
And it's all about their holes.
This cactus ferruginous pygmy owl lives high in an
old woodpecker hideout.
One of the smallest owls in the world...she's not much taller
than a deck of cards
Inside, she has three new mouths to feed.
Never filmed inside a cactus nest before,
these pygmy owl chicks are only a few days old.
Their bunkroom is an ideal hideout.
Outside...Dad returns with lunch.
A lizard twice as long as he is tall.
For about a month he does the bulk of the hunting.
He drops off the carcass, and then heads back to his
man-perch.
When Mom returns, she feeds the kids.
Saguaro cacti offer high sanctuary from the dangers of
the desert floor.
These coyote brothers would love a tasty owl snack...
but that's not gonna happen.
Less than a year old, they're learnin' fast just how hard life
in the Wild West can be.
The young guns stick together.
Help each other out.
The coyote may be the most resourceful renegade in
the desert.
They will beg, steal...and of course, kill for a meal.
And they're able to survive on just about anything.
Even a prickly pear cactus fruit can help them hang on
until the rains come again.
Picky eaters die out here.
But there's more to life under the cactus than just food.
This male Tucson blond tarantula is out courting.
Like a gentleman suitor, he pays his respects by gently knocking
on a young lady's door.
No one's home...so he presses on.
Finally, a female answers his knock.
He must tread carefully...if she's not in the mood...
she might just eat him.
Female tarantulas are picky.
An unacceptable suitor could become dinner.
With this handshake, the male lulls her into a
receptive trance.
She's open for business.
He does his job with precision carefully inserting
his semen-soaked pedipalps into her abdomen.
When he's done...he gets, while the getting's good.
When she wakes from her trance...she might be hungry.
Seven weeks later...hundreds of babies are born.
A new posse...set loose on the desert floor.
Beneath the ground, a different kind of swarm is brewing.
Every summer, the Chihuahuan Desert sees a mob,
more than twice the population of New York City emerge to
terrorize the West.
Twenty million Mexican free-tailed bats burst from
the ground.
In a single evening, they can eat 200 tons of insects.
But out here the quick can easily become the dead.
In the Wild West, even the plants are armed.
A coach whip snake ends the bat's suffering.
Every now and then...the desert provides a free lunch.
At its driest, parched scorched a land on the brink
the sky finally brings redemption.
For a colorful few...this is their time to shine!
In just a few hours...a psychedelic carpet comes alive.
The saloon is open.
Insects come from miles around.. to drink.
But it won't last long...flowers must spread their seed quickly.
The prettiest petals get the most attention.
Some take it to extremes.
Many insects can see ultraviolet light.
So some flowers have a hidden treasure map.
Neon billboards to lure in their customers.
But hidden inside this beauty, there are beasts.
Crab spiders lurk camouflaged ready to pounce on
an unsuspecting pollinator.
The desert bloom is an annual gold rush across the Wild West.
But soon, the sun will reclaim the land.
Those properly equipped will survive.
It's animals like these... the heroes and the outlaws...
the good guys and the bad... that keep the West... wild.