Death Valley Plants & Animals

The park’s largest native animals, desert bighorn sheep are always on the move, despite hauling some heavy baggage—up to 30 pounds of curling horns on full-size males. “The sheep’s adaptation is that they are very mobile, so they can go from water source to water source,” says Death Valley ranger Alan Van Valkenburg. Agility is also a critical factor ithat helps them make it in Death Valley. “Their survival strategy is their ability to travel to water and to climb mountain slopes.”

One of the best places to look for bighorns in Death Valley is in Titus Canyon, where a year-round freshwater spring serves as a watering hole.

Even though bighorns are big—up to five feet long and three feet tall at the shoulder—they are nearly invisible when standing still, thanks to fur the color of desert sand. “There can be 20 sheep standing near the road and people drive right by them,” Van Valkenburg says. “The trick is to keep an eye out for something that is white and moving,” he says, noting that sheep’s white rumps sometimes give them away.

One of the best places to look for bighorns in Death Valley is in Titus Canyon, where a year-round freshwater spring serves as a watering hole for sheep and other animals, notes Van Valkenburg. “Wherever there’s a spring and mountains nearby, you have a chance of seeing sheep.”

Insider’s tip: Titus Canyon access is via a rough dirt road; you’ll need a 4WD with high clearance to drive it without the risk of getting stuck, which could be downright dangerous when you’re deep in the park with no cell reception.

The inch-long, silver-colored desert pupfish has learned to embrace change. Once thriving in the ancient inland lakes and streams that filled Death Valley more than 250 million years ago, the pupfish got stranded in a few meager springs as bigger  bodies of water dried up. But the fish didn’t just survive in their new—albeit more cramped—surroundings. They adapted.

“Because the pupfish were stranded in isolated areas, they evolved into different subspecies,” says park ranger Alan Van Valkenburg. “Now each type of pupfish has different adaptations. For example, the endangered Devils Hole pupfish lives in a warm spring in an underground cave on Death Valley’s east side. It can withstand very hot water temperatures, higher than 90°F.”

Though the desert pupfish is an endangered species, the stream by the boardwalk at Salt Creek is usually “squirming with fish” in spring, says ranger Alan Van Valkenburg.

Other localized subspecies are equally unique—and bizarre. The Salt Creek pupfish lives in an ultra-salty stream. While its ancestors used to swim in freshwater, this subspecies can now withstand saline water—an evolutionary adaptation similar to humans drinking gasoline instead of tap water.

Even though desert pupfish don't grow much bigger than a baby’s pinky finger and are endangered species, they are easy to spot during their spring mating season at Salt Creek, seven miles north of Furnace Creek. “For most of March and April, the stream by the boardwalk is squirming with fish,” notes Van Valkenburg. But once waters recede, the little fish leave, moving “far upstream to wait out the heat in deep source pools,” he adds. 

It’s hard to imagine a cactus not growing in the desert, but that’s the case in Death Valley’s most extreme settings. The rocks-hot-enough-to-fry-an-egg heat, severe drought, and dangerous buildup of salts in the lowest parts of the valley make it too tough for even a hardy cactus to grow. But head for the hills to more cactus-friendly conditions to discover these prickly succulents. Visit in spring and to catch their showy flowers—some of the prettiest in Death Valley.

The cholla’s inch-long spines help shade the stems, keeping air cooler closest to the plant.

Travel to the gentle slopes surrounding the valley and you’ll start to see cacti dotting the landscape. Just 500 feet above the valley floor, look for beavertail, a low-growing cactus with grayish-green “paddles” dotted with small spines called glochids—fine bristles that look harmless but have penetrating barbs. In spring, brilliant magenta flowers add splashes of color to the dry landscape.

You may also find the beavertail’s distant cousin, the silver cholla. Be careful walking near this branching cactus—spine-covered sections of cholla branches break off if brushed even slightly. But spines do more than ward off enemies; they can also help a cactus survive. The cholla’s inch-long spines help shade the stems, keeping air cooler closest to the plant.

Another eye-catcher is cottontop barrel cactus, a “clumpy” cactus that grows in clusters of 20 to 40 spine-covered barrels, some up to three feet high. Take a closer look to understand the “cottontop” name. Near the barrel’s crown, look for a clump of white, woolly hairs, a favorite during nesting season when birds collect them to line their nests. Like all barrel cactus, the cottontop is pleated like an accordion, so it can shrink as it uses up its internal water supply. These folds also channel precious rainwater directly to the cactus’s base. 

These big-eyed creatures were branded with an unfortunate last name. “Kangaroo rats are not shaped like rats at all. They’re almost round, with a long, fluffy tail,” says Death Valley ranger Alan Van Valkenburg. “Most people would say they’re cute.”

The kangaroo rat also has a built-in humidifier in its underground den.

But that first name? A perfect fit. These little critters—with bodies the size of a small fist—use their long hind legs to jump as far as nine feet. According to Van Valkenburg, the diminutive rodents tuck their small front legs out of the way when they jump, and use their long tails like rudders “to help them steer at high speeds.” If you’re driving through the park at night, drive slowly and look for kangaroo rats hopping across the roads, their large, luminous eyes shining in your car’s headlights.

According to Van Valkenburg, the kangaroo rat “is one of the desert’s most well-adapted creatures.” The rat’s unique metabolism and specialized kidneys allow it to survive without drinking fresh water or eating moisture-containing leaves. The kangaroo rat also has a built-in humidifier in its underground den. “Moisture from its breath keeps its den moist, and it has a specialized organ in its nasal passages that allows it to reabsorb moisture back into its system,” says Van Valkenburg.

Over the years, assorted adventurous humans—borax miners, pioneers, and just plain loners—have scraped out a life in the Death Valley region. (Case in point: the indefatigable ballerina Marta Becket, who launched Amargosa Opera House in Death Valley Junction in 1968.)

But just outside the Death Valley National Park boundaries in the tiny town of Olancha, visual artist Jael Hoffmann hasn’t just made a life; she has made the desert come to life.

In her sculpture garden near the Highway 190 entrance on the west side of Death Valley National Park, Hoffmann’s metal-art characters populate the desert floor. In her own words on her website, Hoffmann notes that the placement here has profound meaning. “The rugged environments my sculptures chose to inhabit are not coincidental, but supportive of their unadorned messages.”

Thousands of people have stopped on their way to and from the park to walk among Hoffmann’s thought-provoking creations, which are framed by panoramic views of the lofty High Sierra. There’s a towering female hitchhiker carrying a suitcase, a few toothy monsters, and a color-splashed Give and Take alien, who holds one bucket that accepts trinkets and coins and another that gives them away. The alien’s face is a mirror, compelling the observer to make only fair trades.

The sculpture garden is located just west of U.S. 395 in Olancha. Take the Walker Creek Road turnoff, then turn north on the first dirt road.