1
Around the lonely campfire
when the wolves
begin to call
The riders tell the story
of the bravest wolf of all
The king of all the hunters
born to lead the rest
his name became a legend
across the great southwest
lobo lobo
lobo lobo
your name will survive
for no man
could bring you in
Dead or alive
lobo lobo
lobo lobo
your name will survive
for no man
could bring you in
Dead or alive
like everything else,
a good legend's got
to have a good beginning.
The right bloodline,
you might say.
This one began
even before lobo's time...
With a wolf famous
in his own right.
He was a big, rangy fella.
He used to roam a wide piece
of the territory...
Back when it was still empty
and mighty fine to look at.
Around the neighborhood,
he was known as the fierce one.
In the local Spanish, El feroz.
The vaqueros had a great deal
of respect for him too.
Fact is, it amounted
to a kind of a superstition.
Some of 'em claimin'
he was a spirit wolf.
Well, this El feroz
was lobo's father.
So for breed and blood,
lobo came from a good line.
It was in the spring of '89
he was born,
a litter of five pups,
two brothers and
a couple of sisters.
That's about
the usual family for wolves.
Now, these young 'uns
are off to a good start
on a number of counts.
For one thing, they were lucky
just havin' El feroz
for their dad.
It's a common thing in nature
for the male animal
to kill his offspring,
if he can get to 'em.
But the wolf's different.
He's about the best parent
there is,
because he's gentle
with his young.
The wolf's loyal too.
Somethin' most folks
don't realize is that
wolves mate for life.
It's for all time.
The male and the female both
being devoted to each other
and the family.
For a real fine
domestic arrangement,
there's probably not another one
like it anywhere in nature.
At six weeks of age,
lobo wasn't much of a legend,
not yet anyway.
He was bright-eyed
and full of mischief,
but he looked exactly
like his brothers and sisters.
And at this stage of the game,
nobody would have bet on him
as a future king of the range.
About the only thing
different maybe,
he was a little more curious
than the rest of the litter.
He sort of liked
to follow his nose,
find out what is goin' on
around the neighborhood.
But bein' a little new
at this, he sometimes
followed it too far.
Well, if you're gonna leave
your common sense at home
when you go travelin',
you're bound to land in trouble.
Still, the school of hard knocks
isn't a bad place
to start an education,
and lobo caught on fast.
The truth was, all of his life,
he'd be one to learn
from experience...
And, what's more important,
store it up and remember it.
By now it was plain that
the pups were growin' fast...
And about ready
for good red meat.
So El feroz checked over
his boneyard to see
what was left.
The bone he finally dug up
was the last one.
Pretty slim pickin's
for a hungry family.
About all it was good for
was a tug-of-war.
There wasn't enough nourishment
in this old soup bone
to feed a canary.
El feroz knew it was time
to go huntin' again.
He'll feed
his hungry young ones
El feroz searched for game
But there was not
a scent of prey
Throughout his wild domain
across the endless
wastelands
His lonely trail had led
and then at last
he spied them
Pronghorn antelope,
his favorite prey.
His family would be fed
An antelope's faster than
a jackrabbit on the takeoff,
but he can't keep it up forever.
The wolf, on the other hand,
is a stayer.
He can hold the pace for hours
on end when he wants to.
He can even outlast
a good strong horse.
So this is how it was.
El feroz was countin' on
one of the herd fallin' behind.
Sure enough,
a big pronghorn buck
pulled up winded and heavin',
too tired to go another step.
Now the chase was over.
The rest would be easy,
except that El feroz
wasn't in a hurry
to move in for the kill.
He began to work this antelope
like a good cuttin' horse,
headin' it back in the direction
they had come.
This was an old, old trick.
If a wolf chased
his prey miles away
from where he wanted it...
Say, a half day's journey
from a hungry family...
He didn't end things too soon.
Instead, he'd send it along home
under its own power.
Back at the den,
these little young 'uns were
bein' as patient as they could,
exceptin' it wasn't natural
for pups to be very patient
when they were hungry.
They growled a little,
grumbled a little,
chewed on things and generally
felt sorry for themselves.
If they'd only known it,
they really had somethin'
to complain about.
A cougar was pokin' around
in their vicinity.
And if he found 'em,
it could mean trouble.
Real bad trouble.
When one of these big cats
was circulatin',
nothin' was safe.
Stealthy, tricky,
he'd sneak up soft and silent,
never betrayin' his presence,
never givin' a warning either.
Seemed like right about now,
the wolves had been dealt
a losing hand.
Then at the last minute,
a wild card turned up.
There was somethin' about
cougars that just naturally...
Brought out hatred
in cowpunchers.
Of course, the big cats
were death on horses
and other livestock,
but the resentment
seemed more than that almost.
It was kind of unreasoning,
and it generally took
the form of a rifle bullet.
Now, this went for wolves too.
And right at this moment,
little lobo couldn't know
how close he was...
To gettin' a lead slug
of his own.
About that time, El feroz
came home with part of his kill.
Right off, he knew
somethin' was wrong.
It didn't take him long
to unravel the mystery.
He could have figured it out
by the scent alone...
And catchin' sight of the riders
only confirmed his conclusions.
Humans had been here,
and they'd probably be back.
It was time to pull up stakes
and move on.
When the whereabouts
of a wolf's den
isn't secret anymore,
he'll find himself a new one,
'cause the one thing
he's got to have is privacy.
Of course, when that day comes,
father just acts as guide.
It's mother who does
all the totin' and carryin'.
All right, dear.
Get a move on.
Let's get goin'.
Since there was only room
for one passenger at a time,
each of the pups
had to wait his turn,
but lobo wasn't
in the mood for waitin'.
Like a stray
on the tail end of the herd,
he came taggin' along behind,
doin' his best to keep up.
It was gettin'
plainer every minute that
he wasn't any mountain goat.
But if he wanted it this way,
his mother seemed willing
to let him work it out.
He wasn't a quitter.
No, sir.
He stayed with it,
and in the end,
he came out on top.
Now, once on the trail,
the parents moved along
at a steady lope.
It was a little tough
on the pups,
bein' short coupled with
short legs tryin' to keep up.
Now, there was no time
for the sights,
no time to fool around
with strangers.
Bein' the curious one,
lobo stopped to say howdy.
The tortoise wasn't much
on hospitality.
He just wanted to mind
his own business.
Trouble was, he was gettin'
a lot of unwanted help.
Finally figurin'
to sidetrack his escort,
the old slowpoke
veered off the trail.
The sashayin' was over,
but the pup was a little late
gettin' the point.
By now lobo had forgotten
all about his parents.
It was sort of mutual.
Being concerned
with house hunting, they had
their minds on other things too.
The pup, meanwhile, had
taken up with a new sidekick,
another funny-looking critter
in a suit of armor.
Seemed like everybody
around here wore it.
Maybe this is what made 'em
all so standoffish.
Well, in a matter
of bein' friendly,
lobo decided it was up to him
to make the first move.
Now, an armadillo's
got tender ears,
about the only thing on him
that's unprotected.
Hurt his ears and you've
hurt his feelings, for sure.
All this time
the family had been
coverin' more and more ground,
gettin' farther
and farther away,
and still they
hadn't missed lobo.
So at a rather young age,
he was left playin' lone wolf...
And findin' it a bit tedious.
He was hot, tired and thirsty.
To make matters worse,
his feet hurt.
It kind of dawned on him
along about this point...
That he was
travelin' in circles.
He was lost, just about
as lost as they come.
Purely by accident,
he stumbled onto
a catch basin of rainwater.
Just enough left
for a quick drink
and a soothing cooling bath...
For his achin' feet.
His wet tracks would have been
easy to follow...
If anybody'd come along in time,
but that wasn't likely.
The family was a couple
of canyons away before
they hauled up to count noses.
Now, wolves don't excite easy.
The fact that a pup
was missin' didn't mean much.
They figured he was still
bringin' up the rear as usual,
and he'd be along
in his own good time.
In makin' his rounds,
El feroz had had his eye
for quite a spell...
On a deserted badger hole.
With a little fixin',
it'd do just fine for a den,
so he took possession.
[ Animal snarling,
feroz growling ]
It appeared the place
wasn't vacant, after all.
Tenant was livin' here,
and he wasn't figurin' to move.
Badger's a tough critter
to handle, even for a wolf,
and this one wasn't
gonna budge for anybody.
He might be small,
but he was fast on his feet...
And dead game.
Fact is, it turned out
to be quite a dance.
Heel-and-toe and do-si-do
all around the hall.
Finally, El feroz
decided to call it quits.
He wasn't gettin' anywhere
in this game.
Besides, he had a lost pup
to worry about,
and it was time
he went lookin' for him.
The first move was
to try to pick up his trail.
It would still be fresh enough
to follow if the parents
could find it,
but that was the big "if."
They tried callin' to him
the old pack rallyin' cry,
hopin' he'd hear it
and know enough to answer it.
There wasn't even an echo,
nothin' but silence.
One thing was certain.
They'd better catch up
with him soon,
'cause lobo
was courtin' disaster.
A rattler has
a built-in warning system for
those who know what it means.
But bein' a greenhorn,
lobo didn't get the message.
Sensing he was in danger,
he began to call for help.
Lucky for him,
his parents were within earshot.
It didn't take long to size up
the situation.
They knew exactly what to do.
Draw the snake's attention
to themselves.
If they could just
keep the rattler busy,
the pup might
slip out of the danger zone.
Trouble with this plan,
the way out was squeezed
a little narrow.
Besides, would the pup know
when to come?
From the sidelines, El feroz
could see it was a standoff,
and he decided
it needed a quick ending.
Once the rattler was rooted out,
his play was over.
Now lobo could
rejoin his family,
sore-footed and
tuckered out maybe,
but glad to be back
where he belonged.
As the weeks went by,
lobo branched out
more and more on his own,
traipsing around
exploring the countryside.
One fine mornin',
he was amblin' along...
Not doin' much of anything,
when he came upon a sight
that stopped him in his tracks.
A young antelope
was feelin' his oats.
He didn't seem to mind
where he was goin'...
Just so long as
he got there in a jiffy.
He was a kind of
a crazy little cuss,
rambunctious
and full of the old vinegar.
To watch him
knock this pup around,
you'd think he'd never heard
of wolves eatin' antelopes.
Well, like as not at his age,
he hadn't.
These two weren't old enough
to know they were supposed
to be enemies,
so an unusual friendship
developed,
one of those things that
sometimes happens in nature.
In the weeks that followed,
they sort of grew up together.
And when they were
three months old, they were
still goin' around as pals.
Often as not, their trail
led to their favorite hangout,
a little creek runnin'
through the neighborhood.
It was a real
inviting spot for a couple
of dry country young 'uns.
And they didn't need to be told
what a swimmin' hole was for.
Naturally, the pup
favored the dog paddle.
The other fella's style
wasn't as neat maybe,
but it got him where
he was goin' just the same.
While all this was goin' on,
they were being spied on
by a non-too-friendly raccoon.
She kind of took
the attitude that water
belonged to water critters...
And not to landlubbers
like these.
The raccoon had a family
to worry about, too,
and that tended to make her
leery of strangers.
Nups are like that though.
The kids couldn't see anything
wrong with the visitors.
If it was
to be a swimmin' party,
they'd join in right now.
Three of 'em would anyway.
The fourth one...
well, it took him a little
longer to make the plunge.
Whenever you get a passel
of small fry together,
it's about the same in nature
as with humans.
After a while,
their animal energy is apt
to bust out in a squabble.
So the party ended,
and wolf and antelope moved on.
Something else had ended too:
Their unusual friendship.
It's just not natural
for enemies to prolong
an acquaintance.
And as it had
to be in such things,
these two came to the fork
in the trail.
By the time
he was six months old,
lobo was ready to run
with the family pack.
He was bigger now, heavier,
more like his dad in every way.
Every way except one,
he wasn't much help yet
with the hunting.
To El feroz, meantime,
it seemed the hungrier
his family got,
the scarcer the game got.
More and more civilization
was pushing into the parts,
killing off his prey
or crowdin' it out.
It seemed to old El feroz
The trail herd that he saw
was some new breed
of buffalo
Movin' through the draw
again there would be plenty
the wolves
would have their fill
And so he brought his family
To join him in the kill
Makin' a kill wasn't
exactly easy though.
It was a tricky business,
even downright dangerous.
If the timing was off,
a wolf could get himself
kicked senseless.
And if the set-to
was a challenge for
El feroz, the old master,
it was somethin'
more than that for his pups.
Just when lobo thought
he had the thing down pat,
he found himself
with a bull by the tail
and afraid to let go.
What in blazes do ya do now?
About that time
the calf had sense enough
to join the rest of 'em.
And now it had protection
that was gonna be hard to beat.
El feroz kept dancin' around,
keepin' his eye on the calf.
For one thing,
it was nearer his size,
and he was figurin'
there might be a way to slicker
the guards out of position.
Of course, he wasn't
foolin' anybody really.
The steers were wise to him
and quick to match his move.
There'd be another chance.
Put wolves and cattle together
and sooner or later
there will be a killin'.
When the buffalo were wiped out,
it left cattle as the wolves'
only hope for survival.
So El feroz took what seemed
his rightful share,
but the cattlemen
weren't sharin' with anybody.
And from the very beginning,
it was open warfare.
Along about that point,
the cowboys got lucky.
The mother was knocked down.
She got right up and went on,
but she wasn't in any shape
for a long grindin' chase now.
El feroz lagged back
from time to time,
encouragin' her,
hopin' she'd catch up.
But he had the young ones
to think of, too,
and he had to go on.
The female was gettin'
near the end of her rope.
A wounded animal knows
when it's reached its limit.
And typical-like, she went off
to find a resting place.
Maybe the riders
would miss the turnoff...
And give her
a much needed breathing spell.
But that's not the way
it was to be.
Lobo, lobo
remember this day
man's bullets have taken
your mother
away
lobo, lobo
there's no lookin' back
now you must abandon her
run with the pack
Never again would lobo
forget the smell of gunpowder.
He got to know rifles by sight,
and he wouldn't let
man nor horse come within
a thousand yards of him.
Yet all the time,
he and the family pack kept
takin' more and more cattle.
Before long,
the cattlemen's battle
seemed to be a losin' one.
The enemy was almost too smart.
Maybe it was a war
calling for more than guns.
To catch a wolf in those days,
the cowman had to learn
to think like one.
The trick was to make him
outsmart himself.
A wolf's an intelligent critter.
Fact is, there's not many
to match him when it comes
to figurin' things out.
So if a trap was gonna fool him,
it had to be rigged up with
some extra special trimmings.
A little dogie was about
the most delectable come-on.
There was something
about young veal that
was well-nigh irresistible.
Once the decoy was staked out,
the next thing
was to plant the trap where
the wolf would have to pass.
The trap could be
most any standard make.
It had to be strong though,
like, say, a well-made number 4.
Not big as a bear trap maybe,
but big enough...
And smooth workin'
with a fast action.
Well, these preparations
had been pretty thorough.
You might say they had
a touch of genius about 'em,
'cause next morning
it looked like nature herself
was in on the deal,
playin' it on
the cattlemen's side.
El feroz came on in the lead.
He was still headin' up
the family pack.
And quick as a wink,
he spotted the calf.
Naturally, he was tempted,
and why not?
A free meal like this.
But before he made any move
hasty-like, he sniffed around
a bit just checkin' on things.
This all seemed
a little too good to be true.
Might be that was
what was wrong with it.
Maybe he'd better back off
and size things up again.
Like an unexpected gunshot,
the trap sent the young wolves
a-scatterin'.
They ducked out of sight
quick, all except lobo.
He sensed something
wasn't right.
There wasn't much he could
do for El feroz except lend him
the comfort of his company.
Still, there's a kind
of nobleness in the wolf.
In the unexplained way
of the breed, he stayed by,
prepared to keep watch
to the end.
Then the riders came back.
Lobo knew he'd have to leave.
He had no choice.
For all wild animals,
there comes the moment when
they must go their own road.
And for lobo
that moment was now.
The time had come for lobo
to make his way alone
and loneliness and hunger
were things he'd never known
All through
the long, long winter
Beneath the frozen sky
lobo learned
he must be strong
He must be wise or die
by the next spring, lobo had
been a loner about long enough.
It was time to start
lookin' for a mate,
and his wanderings took him
far from his old haunts
into new territory.
One fine morning
he met up with some wolves
he'd never seen before.
He was of a mind to join 'em.
According to pack law, he might
be accepted and he might not.
It sort of depended
on whether they wanted him.
As it worked out,
they were kind of hankering
for a new face too.
Right off,
lobo was made welcome.
In the midst
of all the jubilation,
he caught sight of
a dark beauty on the sidelines,
and he knew
his searching was over.
The black female
seemed charmed with lobo too.
Before long,
an old-fashioned courtship
was underway.
Takin' himself
a mate wasn't gonna be
quite this simple though.
There was a kind
of a catch to it.
The one who really had the say
was the pack leader,
surly old brute who right away
took a dislikin'...
To the young fella
from out of the hills.
The pack leader could see
he wasn't winnin'.
And when you're not winnin',
you might as well do your
losin' the easiest way possible.
No sense gettin' yourself
killed just for show.
He just tucked
his tail between his legs
and gave up, simple as that.
And so the lobo legend
began to get a little bigger.
From that time on, lobo
ran at the head of the pack...
With his mate at his heels...
And a following
of the biggest, strongest
wolves in the vicinity.
When the mating season came on,
the pack split up for a while,
each pair of wolves
goin' off by itself.
Some of 'em had dens
left over from last year.
But lobo and his mate,
bein' new at this,
had to set up housekeeping
somewhere brand new.
One day in their scouting,
they made a mighty
interesting discovery.
Across the canyon was
an old Indian cliff dwelling.
Looked like it would
just about fill the bill.
Only drawback was,
there didn't seem to be any way
of gettin' over to it.
Well, where there's a will,
there's generally a way.
And it turned out,
there was a sort of a crossing.
It was one of those
"as the crow flies" things,
and a wolf wantin' to use it
was gonna have to be mighty
eager to get on the other side.
This didn't seem
to bother lobo though.
After lookin' it over good,
he undertook to give it a try.
The wolf's a surefooted critter
with strong nerves
and a steady eye,
and lobo had all
the confidence of the breed.
His mate, meanwhile, hung back.
She wasn't near
so sure of herself.
Bein' the female,
maybe she wasn't so foolhardy.
Finally, after lobo
had showed it could be done,
she got up nerve enough
to follow him.
Once underway, it wasn't so bad.
Fact is, in time, these wolves
would come to use this bridge
practically every day.
It came to be a part
of the lobo legend.
The cliff dwelling, when they
got to it, looked real inviting.
The scent of man was long gone.
Besides, to these two,
it wasn't a house but a cave...
With all the proper
advantages of same.
Dry floor,
sheltering walls and
a good roof against the rain.
This was it, their new den.
The both of 'em were
pleased with their find...
And, what's more important,
with each other.
These two had mated for life,
and right about now
the life ahead looked good.
The next few weeks
were pleasant ones,
and the days passed quickly.
Then the time came
when lobo's mate didn't
hunt with him anymore.
One morning when he got home
from makin' his rounds,
he found out why.
Sure was a handsome litter.
Lobo was as proud
as a new daddy could be.
As leader of the wolf pack
his fame began to spread
for many
hundred miles around
A price was on his head
by every law of nature
the cattle were his prey
but to the angry cattlemen
it didn't work that way
lobo lobo
lobo lobo
since man has appeared
he's put you outside the law
Hunted and feared
lobo lobo
lobo lobo
since man has appeared
he's put you outside the law
Hunted and feared
a thousand dollars,
a darn sight more than
most human outlaws were worth.
Lobo was a legend for sure,
the most notorious name
in the whole southwest.
One day
a professional hunter from
Texas rode into the territory,
hopin' to take the famous wolf
that nobody else could catch.
Bounty hunting
was his full-time trade,
and he came equipped for it.
He had a killer
wolfhound so mean
it had to be kept muzzled.
This was his hole card.
But first, a wolf
had to be brought to bay.
And for this job, he had
a pack of the finest trackin'
hounds ever gathered together.
If anybody could bring in lobo,
looked like this was the man.
It didn't take the hunter long
to see he'd been outsmarted.
This lobo was a lot wiser
than he'd figured.
The truth was, he had a kind
of a begrudging admiration...
For a wolf that could think up
a strategy like this.
Well, if the dogs couldn't
bring this fella in, there
were other tricks to be tried.
In lookin' over
the situation, he'd noticed
somethin' important,
a clue about lobo's habits that
just might prove his downfall.
To anybody
who could read the signs,
the giveaway was printed
on the ground beside the log.
The wolf tracks here
told their own story.
It was plain as anything...
The wolves always
came off the log at this spot.
This was the place for a trap.
The hunter took a lot of care
in settin' this one.
He picked an extra strong trap
with a hair-trigger action.
Used a special trick to keep
the dirt from cloggin' it.
Now it was
just a matter of time.
It so happened lobo didn't
make his usual rounds that day.
He'd stayed home with the family
sort of takin' things easy.
His pups were about
three months old now,
gettin' more active
every minute.
One of 'em was lobo's
particular pride and joy,
the dark little female who was
a dead ringer for her mother.
With a family to raise,
lobo was apt to be watchin'
his step pretty carefully.
The only thing was,
this time the man who
was out to get him...
Was the best in the business.
When the hunter came back,
the trap was gone.
Just as he figured,
lobo had come passin' by...
And had stepped down
right where he thought he would.
The fact that he wasn't in sight
was no cause for worry.
He couldn't have got far
'cause the trap was chained
to a heavy drag.
It was leavin'
a well-marked trail that would
be no trouble at all to follow.
It was a wolf, all right,
but the wrong one,
lobo's mate,
not the old outlaw himself.
Well, since exterminatin'
was his business,
he might as well exterminate her
on general principles.
Then a better idea hit him.
If it was lobo
he wanted, maybe here
was a golden opportunity.
Taken alive, this female was
a sure way of gettin' at lobo.
When his mate didn't come home,
lobo began to get restless.
He sensed somethin' was wrong.
It wasn't like her to stay away
from her pups like this.
He set out to find her, just as
the hunter reckoned he would.
At the other end of the bridge,
lobo picked up the trail.
His nose told him
his mate had been in trouble.
Mixed with her scent was
another one, hated and bitter,
a taint in the air
he wouldn't ever forget.
The scent of man told lobo
That he must find his mate
But the bounty man
was usin' her
To lure him to his fate
the trail was plain
to follow
He traveled hard and fast
but he would have
searched forever
To find his mate at last
lobo lobo
lobo lobo
there's danger below
but true to your loyal code
There you must go
lobo
lobo
there's danger below
but true to your loyal code
There you must go
lobo knew the chance
he was takin',
the odds against him.
He came on, steppin' soft,
followin' the fence
for protection.
His mate was somewhere near.
His keen nose said so.
Then he found her.
She was alive.
Now his problem
was how to get to her.
According to the legend
a rally call he cried
it echoed off the rimrock
And carried far and wide
soon ghostly shapes
and shadows
Appeared out of the night
in answer to
their leader's call
The wolves had come to fight
Lobo lobo
lobo lobo
you've gathered your pack
and now you must
lead them all
To the attack
lobo lobo
lobo lobo
you've gathered your pack
and now you must
lead them all
To the attack
lobo, lobo
your battle is won
but now you must travel on
Now you must run
to your ancestral kingdom
man has come to stay
so, lobo, you must
lead your pack
And family far away
beyond the distant mountains
you know that there will be
a place where man
won't follow
A land where you'll be free
lobo lobo
lobo lobo
your name will survive
for no man
could bring you in
Dead or alive
lobo lobo
lobo lobo
although you are gone
your legend of bravery
lives on and on