Username: ImmyWimmy1
Name: Bataar (Mongolian name, meaning 'hero')
Gender: Stallion
Color: Dark Bay
Genes: Ee/Aa/dd
Eagle Name: Bold (Mongolian name, meaning 'steel')
~~*~~
-Trivia-
1.What are the traditional homes that Mongolian Nomads live in called?The Mongolian
Ger is similar to the Native American tepee in concept: a small, portable dwelling with a simple wooden frame, held together be leather strips and covered in felt and canvas for shelter and wind resistance. Like the tepee, they were designed for quick assembly and dismantling, as well as being easily transported by three camels or a yak-pulled cart. They are big enough for a small family to live in.
The gers themselves are comprised of several little sections of lattice, called khana (the average being six), with a separate umbrella-shaped section for the doorway (made of slender poles called uni). All of the poles are slotted into the tonoo, a circular frame at the top of the structure. The doors used to be felt flaps, but modern nomads often opt for a carved or painted wooden door. Each ger contains a dried dung- or wood-fuelled stove, so each one has a small opening at the top to let any smoke out. The felt is then layered for heat retention, whilst the canvas is then layered for waterproofing. These layers are tied to the lattice with ropes made of wool and hair. During the summer, only one layer is used, but in the winter two or three layers may be used. The entrance always faces south.
Source:
http://www.mongolian-ways.com/culture.htm2. Explain the basics of Mongolian falconry to me:"There are three things a real man should have: a fast horse, a hound, and a golden eagle."
~Kazakhstan proverbTo the professional hunters, the art is known as
berkutchy or
kusbeguy (in Kazakh), or even
berkutchi (but only to the Kyrgyz people of the Bugu clan). Young eagles are raised by young boys in order to build up a bond to last a lifetime. A hood is put onto the eagle's head to render them unable to see their surroundings, making them completely reliant on their trainer and further strengthening the level of trust (having previous experience in the falconry art myself, I can recall that trust is the main link between birds and man, not affection as in other animals). Only then can training begin. Golden Eagles will be trained to hunt alongside man on horseback, which often takes years to complete. Once trained to a sufficient level, the young man can take the eagle out hunting. Upon his first successful hunting trip, the boy will be considered a full-grown man and true hunter, having passed this 'test of manhood'.
Today it is estimated that there are 250 eagle hunters in the Western Mongolian province. Foxes are the main source of prey, as they provide both meat for food and furs for clothing (there's extra information in the video below, should you choose to watch it). Wolves are also taken for their meat and furs, but targeting has also helped to prevent wolves attacking foals in the herds of horses that travel with the nomads. During the first week of October, hunters will gather for the Golden Eagle festival of Mongolia. After this time, fox and hare become the main hunting targets as they stand out against the snow. And, with the global community easier to access, the prospect of hunting with eagles on horseback has turned this into quite a profitable form of tourism.
Maybe someday I'll be one of those tourists... Source:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hunting_with_eaglesSide note- for those of you who might not have seen it, the BBC did an absolutely marvellous documentary on different human cultures around the world, including the Mongolian nomads. This little YouTube clip has some information on nomads hunting with Golden Eagles, even footage of a hunt: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ewr-vzw4ZWo3. Explain the rules/guidelines of Buzkashi:Before I go into the rules, I think it wise to explain the game. Introduced in Kazakhstan, the aim of the game is for one team of horse-mounted riders to drag a headless goat carcass towards a goal of sorts. Players may try and pull the goat carcass out of another player's hands, but they must not be violent towards the other player. Before regulations and match times were set out, individual games could go on for days on end!
There are many different forms of Buzkashi. Before the official establishment of rules, there were some general rules for people to abide by, such as not whipping your opponent or trying to knock them off their horse deliberately. In fact, heavy clothing was often worn as protection, with left over Soviet tank helmets being used during the Soviet Union's existence! The high heeled boots used to lock into the saddle, however, are still used today in order to make picking the goat carcass off the ground an easier task.
Now, onto the modern-day rules.
Rules introduced by Afghan Olympic Federation:
1. The ground has a square layout with each side 400 meters long.
2. Each team consists of 10 riders each.
3. Only five riders from each team can play in a half.
4. The total duration of each half is 45 minutes.
5. There is only one 15 minute break between the two halves.
6. The game is supervised by a referee.
7. Based on the referee's decision a rider can be substituted during the game.
In Kyrgyzstan, the rules are different again, as well as the game being referred to as kokpar:
1.There are two teams with 10 participants in each
2.Only 4 players a team are allowed to play on a field at a given time
3.Teams are allowed to substitute players or their horses
4.Game is played on a field of 200 meters long and 80 meters wide
5.Two kazans – big goals with a diameter of 3.6 meters and 1.5 meter high are placed on opposite sides of a field
6.A goal is scored each time a kokpar (goat carcass) is placed in an opponent's kazan.
7.A kokboru is brought to the field center after scoring a goal
It is also prohibited to ride towards the spectators and/or receive spectators assistance or to start a kokpar game without giving an oath to play justly.
In Tajikistan, there are many ways to play, but the most common way involves individuals competing to carry the carcass to individual goals (basically a free-for-all). This version often has short matches and can get pretty messy pretty quickly.
The game also has two main forms: Tudabarai and Qarajai. In Tudabarai, the goal is simply to grab the goat and move in any direction until clear of the other players. In Qarajai, players must carry the carcass around a flag or marker at one end of the field, then throw it into a scoring circle (sometimes called the "Circle of Justice") at the other end.
Source:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/BuzkashiExtra:You're probably wondering how such a noble horse and a regal bird came into my possession.
Well, I'll tell you the story...It all started when the company I work for, GenEqus, sent me on my first solo investigation to Mongolia. My mission? To investigate the genetic differences between the Mongolian domestic horse and the Mongolian wild horse, otherwise known as the Przewalski's horse. There was also the task to locate any hybrids between the two and try and collection DNA samples to be analysed in the lab. Of course, I leapt at the chance to be a part of this investigation. As a teenagers, I'd watched a few documentaries on Mongolian Nomadic culture. Ever since Id been obsessed, especially with their relationships with their horses and, with much more curiosity, their Golden Eagles. I'd been obsessed with them since my primary school days- winged predators roaming the skies. Soaring effortlessly on thermals, as easily as a leaf floats on a gentle stream. And now I had the chance to get out to the country where man lived and hunted alongside these magnificent creatures as well as their horses? For free?! There was no way I was going to pass this chance up!
I'll never forget the day I arrived at the airport. It was the middle of October, just after the main Golden Eagle festival. Snow blanketed the land as a thick white blanket, only the tallest rocks poking through and peppering the landscape. Even the smallest breeze nipped at the tips of my nose and ears, my ears turning bright red, shortly followed by my nose. Nothing but the occasional cloud lay within the azure expanse above us: a complete contrast to the skies of Heathrow airport, London. I remember getting the exact same feeling that I had when I first arrived in Iceland: wild. Desolate. A wilderness unspoiled by the hands of modern man. Well, apart from the airport, but even that was minute in scale. One tiny runway, one tiny control tower, one terminal. Even the airport in Iceland was larger. To me, it made the anticipation of getting out into the field all the more exciting. After all, according to my brief, I'd be staying with a family of nomads and my translator in a traditional ger. I knew that this was going to be brilliant.
"Dr Doddes?" The sound of my name being called soon reached my ears and caused my head to turn in its general direction. The source was a young Mongolian man in modern-type winter gear. He greeted me with a huge grin and a polite nod of his head. "I presume you're Dr Doddes?" he spoke, his accent slightly lighter than what I had been expecting. He reached out his gloved hand for a handshake and I soon returned the gesture. "Indeed I am," I replied in a polite tone. "And you must be Naranbaatar, my translator?"
He grinned. "That's right, but you can call me Naran for short. If you'd like to collect your things I have the Land Rover ready to go." I smiled and nodded before turning to grab my suitcase, which the pilot of our tiny jet had taken the liberty to pass to me in person. Picking it up and following Naran, we soon arrived at the Land Rover. The vehicle did look rather sorry for itself. Paint chipped off and crooked wing mirrors were evidence that it had been well used. Naran kindly took my suitcase, which was surprisingly light, and put it onto the backseat. I climbed into the passenger seat beside him whilst he got into the driver's seat. Despite its outward appearance, the Land Rover was surprisingly comfortable. "Fasten your seatbelt," Naran chuckled in a jokey tone before fastening his own and starting the engine. And, once fastened in and doors closed, we were off.
I soon realised that he wasn't joking. Once off what I assume was the main road, we were driving over desert terrain. The Land Rover scrambled over the various rocks and piles of snow scattered over the landscape. Naran and I were tossed this way and that within the rickety metal structure, the thin straps of fabric being the only thing keeping us from hitting the doors. No wonder the poor car was in such a state! However, after about an hour of being thrown about, we reached a level plane and our ride grew a lot smoother. Now Naran and I could converse as we continued for the rest of our drive. We discussed many things: popular music, horses, Mongolian culture, my research. It was fair to say a real mix of topics passed our lips as we passed the time.
Eventually our destination began to emerge on the horizon. I could see Naran's amused smile as he watched me looking out across the horizon, like a child staring at the sweets in a confectionary shop's window. In front of us, still some distance away, a white sheet attached to a frame (which I would later find out to be made of wood) fluttered gracefully in the light breeze, a flag heralding our arrival. My first glimpse of the Ger we would be staying in. I could feel my heart pounding against the cage formed by my ribs, like a bird wanting to spread its wings and fly freely. But I knew I had to remain calm, despite my excitement. This wasn't a holiday, after all. I was on a paid expedition for GenEqus. Our next journal paper depended on a successful outcome from the field work gathered here, as did our funding. I'd have plenty of time to admire the scenery and enjoy the traditional Mongolian culture if I worked efficiently first. Naran finally spoke, seeing the glimmer in my eyes I couldn't hide. "Just wait to you see the horses, Dr Doddes. They're nothing like the fancy Thoroughbreds you have back in England." I giggled at my translator's statement, looking back at him. "I've not heard much about them, but I could imagine so." I patted the rickety metal frame of the Land Rover. "Besides, they live in a terrain where even beasties like this vehicle struggle!" At this statement we both burst out laughing, remembering the rather unnerving experience from before, despite being in no real danger.
As we got closer still I could make out the outlines of four figures standing outside the Ger. The family I was staying with. I smiled to myself, still registering what was going on. I was buzzing with anticipation, but I did feel some nerves. Would a Westerner make a good impression on the nomads? Would I fit into their culture for the short period of time I was due to stay here? As the Land Rover drew to a halt, I began to feel the nerves really kicking in. Naran looked at me and smiled softly. "Hey," he whispered, causing me to look in his direction. He nodded to me, before adding, "you'll be fine. Remember, you're their guest. They'll do everything to make you feel welcome." And before I could ask him anything, he'd hopped out of the car and had already made his way to the backseat to get my suitcase. I, on the other hand, hopped out of the passenger's seat and waited for Naran to catch up. It could have been interesting trying to introduce myself without my translator around. Once caught up, he led the way over to the family. I'll never forget the moment I first laid my eyes on them. What a fantastical sight! They were all dressed in, what I assume, the finest of their traditional Mongolian attire. The oldest man and father of the family was wearing a magnificent red deel with golden flowers of some sort adorning the fabric. The woman and mother of the family wore a beautiful midnight blue deel, with silver flowers stitched into the fabric, her raven black hair in a tight braid running down her back. A young man, who would later play a vital role in this tale, wore a plain green deel and a Reggata© jacket (not atypical of the younger generation, I would later be informed). Finally there was the little girl of the family, who was wearing a plain purple deel, her hair braided like her mother's. All wore thick horse skin boots alongside their big warm smiles, the aura of hospitality radiating from them in the most inviting manner possible. My initial nerves melted away and I could see Naran's seemingly-everlasting grin reinforce itself. He led me over to them proudly, brining me over to the oldest man. The man immediately began speaking, his accent rolling off the tip of his tongue and resonating within my head. Another reminder that I was a long way from home. However, soon enough Naran began translating the man's words:
"Good afternoon, Dr. Doddes. It is an honour for my family to play host to you, our latest guest. My name is Saikhan, and I am both a proud eagle hunter and head of this family." Holding out his hand, I quickly accepted his gesture and shook my hand with his, nodding my head in respect (a weird quirk I just seem to have). He then turned and gave a gentle gesture to the woman beside him. "This beautiful woman standing beside me is Odval, my wife and the bedrock upon which this family rests on. I don't know what we would do without her." He smiled softly and gave her a slight peck on the cheek, making her giggle and slap his arm in embarrassment. I couldn't help but let a small smile cross my face at the sight before shaking hands with her, when he gestured to the younger man. "This is Sükh, my son and eldest child. He and his eagle are almost ready to take the test of manhood and go out on their first hunt together." I shook hands with Saikhan's son, earning a small smile from the late-teen. He then turned to the little girl, who seemed to shrink behind him when I approached. "This is Bayar, my daughter. She is very shy, so please don't be offended by her behaviour." With that, the little girl peered from behind the safety of her father's deel, before shrinking back and giggling when I tried to say hello. With that, I turned and indicated to Naran that I was about to speak, in order to give him time to prepare to translate. "Thank you for your warm greeting. After a long journey, it is comforting to know that there are good people who are willing to look after people like me, people without the knowledge of these lands." Once Naran had translated my words to him, Saikhan gave a big grin and replied with something else, before turning towards the Ger. Naran translated, "he said that you can make yourself comfortable in the place that they have already made up for you. Once this is done, he can show you around." With a nod, I accepted my host's offer and was led to my space within the Ger so that I could put my things together. This was already turning out to be better than I had imagined!
Once settled in, Saikhan decided to show me to the horses. Once informed by Naran, I was outside and ready for the tour in a flash. A chance to finally see some Mongolian Domestic Horses up close and personal! Saikhan seemed pleased with my enthusiasm, as he would later explain to me that the horses were a major part of his culture. "He says that he is pleased that you and your fellow scientists are taking such an interest in the history of their horses," Naran translated once again, this time with a more serious tone to his voice. "The Mongolian nomads are loosely aware that connections between the Western man and horse are weaker than they used to be. This does upset some, including Saikhan. Men like him cannot imagine life without their horses. They are one of the three animals that a man must have to be considered a man out here."
I nodded in agreement. "I have heard of an old proverb whilst doing my loose research into the life out here. 'There are three things a real man should have: a fast horse, a hound, and a golden eagle.'"
"Quite so," Naran nodded. "Without one, a man is not truly considered a man." He pointed towards a post by the place where the horses were kept. Following his signal, I noticed some of the largest, fluffiest dogs I had ever seen. "Tibetan Mastiffs," my companion stated. "Without them and the eagles, young foals would be taken away by wolves very easily. The stallions of the herd can only do so much." I nodded in agreement, as no words were needed. As soon as we approached, the dogs lifted their gigantic heads and looked straight at Naran and myself. They were suddenly on their feet, glaring and snarling at us strangers, willing to defend their master's stock to the death. However, upon one solitary command from Saikhan, the dogs sat down and allowed us to pass. I certainly didn't take my chances to pet one!
A shrill whinny caused me to turn away from the faithful guard dogs and locate the source of the sound. As I followed the sound and numerous hoof tracks in the snow, my eyes fell upon the sight of the herd. A rainbow or horse colours unfolded before my eyes. Chestnuts, bays, blacks. All the colours of this primitive breed were on full display and I was standing right in front of it all! But that was not the only surprise my host had for me. Oh no. With one distinctive whistle to the herd all eyes and ears were transfixed on us. Out of the body of the herd came one of the most impressive horses I have ever seen! A stallion with a very thick crest, a symbol of his dominance and power within the herd, emphasised by his shortened mane. A dark bay coat, near jet black, draped over his muscular frame with the ease of the deel upon his master's own frame. The depth of his eyes seemed endless when I met his onyx gaze. He focused on Naran and myself for a good moment, assessing the newcomers. We dropped our gaze, displaying submission. He seemed to approve and carried on towards Saikhan, his only master. The Mongolian man reached out and touched the underside of the horse's chin. The horse had the capability to bite and break every finger in that man's hand, yet all he did was allow the man to gently stroke the underside of his chin.
Such trust. He turned to me and began to speak. "He says," Naran began, "that this stallion's name is Bataar. Do not be fooled by his fearsome appearance. Though he is fiery as most stallions, he has a softer temperament than most. For this reason, he shall be your mount for your expeditions." It took a while to register what my translator had said. Was this a joke? Was he having a little bit of fun with the foreigner? No, Naran didn't strike me as that kind of man, and Saikhan definitely didn't strike me as that kind of man. "I-I honestly don't know what to say!" I exclaimed with excitement. "Thank you so much!" Naran smiled as he translated back to our host. He smiled politely, pleased that I had accepted his offer graciously. Naran nudged my shoulder. "You're doing very well. Sadly not all of the people I take out here are so gracious about the horses!" We giggled to ourselves before we heard Odval calling from the Ger. "Supper time!" Naran laughed, following the already-moving Saikhan. I followed the gentlemen, taking one look back at the mighty Bataar. The stallion was already making his way back to the herd, muscles rippling under his winter coat with surprising definition. He was certainly a magnificent specimen. I couldn't help but chuckled at my luck.
Something told me that this was going to be a magical experience.~~*~~
((Sadly I don't think I'll have enough time to write about the actual investigation and the other activities Dr Doddes participated/watched, so I'll skip to the important one- le hunt! >:D ))
~~*~~
Several days later, the day came when I had to leave and return with the DNA samples I had been able to gather from the field work. My suitcase had been packed by the time the sun had risen and was being loaded into the back of the Land Rover as soon as Naran and I had finished breakfast. But this wasn't goodbye, no. After spending some time with the family, I'd got to know them, even talk to them about the importance of the research I was carrying out here. In exchange, they told me about how they found life as nomadic people. It was, not only an exchange of cultures, but a chance for us to bond and form a friendship of sorts. One aspect of their culture that had fascinated me was the relationship of the men to their Golden Eagles. For several days I had watched Saikhan take his female, Bolor, out on hunting trips and return with bounties of hare, fox and the occasional wolf! But more interesting still was watching Sükh training his male, Bold, for hunting. I had heard many accounts of men training eagles to hunt alongside them, but to witness young Sükh training his magnificent bird was a real honour for me. Watching how the young man used a specific call to keep the bird on track, honing in the hard-wired hunting instinct onto the targets, was a thrilling experience indeed. Little did I know that our esteemed host had been watching me and had noticed my interest in the birds. One day, a few days before I was due to leave, he asked me whether or not I'd like to accompany them on Sükh's debut hunt on the morning I was supposed to leave? Naran said it was possible, since my plane didn't leave until that evening. Of course, I jumped at the chance to see this in the flesh! I'm not entirely sure that our presence helped Sükh's nerves. This was a big thing for him. His test of manhood. But I do think he was glad of the support overall, so he agreed to allowed us to come along.
That is why I was now preparing the mount Bataar for the umpteenth time. Over the period of time I had spent out there, the mighty stallion had learned to trust me and not see me as a threat. I rather enjoyed his company too, as he ready this slightly quirky personality to him. Just like the landscape he lived in, I suppose. But just as I had learned his quirks, he had learned some of mine. Talking to myself was probably one of the things he'd learned to deal with. Especially whilst tracking a Przewalki's herd north of our camp, I'd always give myself a running commentary of what I was doing. What horses must think of us humans I'll never know! But my calm, gentle tone I used around him seemed to calm him, despite having a fiery flare to his personality. Even whilst saddling him up that morning, I was talking myself through how to attach the traditional saddle onto his back, while he munched away at the tufts of imported hay placed down by Odval and Bayar. Eventually I managed to get it secure and, once mounted, I met Saikhan, Sükh, Bold and Naran by the entrance to the camp. Once ready, we set off for what we didn't realise would be a disastrous escapade.
After an hour of trekking in the frozen landscape, we came to one of the prime hunting ridges in the area. The peppered landscape below was certainly one I wouldn't want to navigate the Land Rover over, that's for sure. Saikhan and I both had a set of binoculars each, so scanned the landscape for any signs of life. For a while, the only stirring came from the beings upon the ridge and the clouds in the sky, the hills remaining ever stoic and vast. Suddenly Saikhan grew excited and pointed out towards the valley created by the hills below. Following his extended arm, a large red fox came into view within the visual range of my binoculars. Sükh wasted no time, as he knew what needed to by done. Untying the hood upon Bold's head, the young man cast his bird off with a shrill whistle, the gigantic bird spreading his broad wings whilst taking flight. The vixen, now aware that she was being hunted, turned tail and began to flee for her life. Sükh kept whistling to his eagle, keeping him on track as he has done so in training. I could feel my heart racing with every whistle, every wing beat, every inch of ground gained on the fox. The adrenaline seemed to course through me into Bataar, as he began to shift underneath me with agitation. It wasn't long before a shrill cry echoed across the valley and we all knew that Bold had collided with the fox. Initially we were all jubilant. A successful hunt would now allow Sükh to be considered a man by his people. He'd be able to join all of the other men at next year's Golden Eagle festival and be part of a wider community. Life would open up for him.
But I could see something wasn't quite right. There was too much movement for my liking, the fox still thrashing around. Upon re-assessing the situation, I began to notice the white blanket around them slowly becoming stained red. I barely had time to say anything before Sükh shot past me, charging down the steep slope below us at full-pelt. Saikhan, concerned for the safety of his son more than anything, was on his heels within a matter of seconds, but was unable to stop the man from saving his eagle. Naran and I raced after them, willing to assist in anyway possible. Bataar obeyed every command I gave him, dodging all rocks and assorted obstacles in our path with ease. It was almost like I had become one with this 'wild' creature, exhilarating to say the least. Once we came upon the scene, however, the exhilaration turned to dread. Sükh had already dispatched the fox by the time we had got down there. But that was the least of our concern. I dismounted Bataar and ran over to join Saikhan by the shrunken form that was Bold. He had several shallow injuries to the wing, chest and head where the vixen's teeth had served as her only real means of defence. But then we noticed something awful. The fox had bitten straight through Bold's foot. Sükh looked on in despair. I drew in a sharp breath of air, knowing full well what would happen. Fox saliva wasn't exactly the cleanest substance in the world. For humans, they can carry things as serious as tetanus. For birds of prey, they can carry things as serious as the bacteria responsible for bumblefoot. What is bumblefoot? In short, bad news. An infection that, if not treated in time, can get into the bones of a bird and prove fatal. Working with birds of prey when younger, I watched my boss having to treat bumblefoot patients. It wasn't pretty, but at least we had the antibiotics. Out here, there wasn't much to go round. Without treatment, Bold would surely die out here. Everyone knew that. I could see Saikhan already reaching for his knife, Sükh not able to watch his bird being dispatched. I had to do something. I couldn't just let him die there! "WAIT!" I cried out, causing all eyes to fall on me. Naran seemed the most confused, not sure what I was about to say. I looked at him, Bold's hope rested on him now. "Tell them that I have the medicine to look after him back in the UK! Tell them I can save him! He might not ever return to Mongolia, but at least he can live! Just please..." I tailed off, looking into Saikhan's deep brown eyes, "please don't kill him..."
Naran grabbed my arm and looked at me with concern. "Dr Doddes, I don't think-"
"You really think I can just stand by and watch Sükh's companion be slaughtered before his eyes?! At least I can try to save the poor bird. Even if they disagree and kill him anyway, I
tried!"
Naran fell silent for a moment, not used to seeing the more passionate side of my personality. But an honest man and true to his word, he nodded and translated my outburst for Saikhan and Sükh. Both men looked at me like I was completely mad. My heart sank at their expression. Had I failed? Was Bold's fate now sealed? I was about to give up when Sükh suddenly spoke out. We all looked up at him, as he looked down at his companion. His eyes dulled by the finality of the situation, but holding a glimmer of hope yet. When he finished talking, Naran looked at me, speechless. I jerked with agitation. "Well?! What sis he say?!"
Naran gulped, staring into my eyes in bewilderment. "He said that... As long as he know that Bold is well cared for... He says that... That you can do whatever it takes... Do whatever it takes to give him a good life..."
My jaw dropped. Never in a million years had I expected such an answer as that. Sükh looked at me, awaiting my response. Looking into his eyes, I could see the pleading in his eyes. Now that I had stated my opinion on the matter, I knew that I had to follow through. A firm nod of the head confirmed that I was willing to go ahead with all that I had said. And, as quickly as that, Bold the Golden Eagle was under my care.
~~*~~
No words could describe the look on Sükh's face that afternoon. He had raised Bold from the egg, worked with him for five years, even slept under his watchful guard. And now the two had to say goodbye. What other choice did they have? Out here the antibiotics for bumblefoot would take weeks to arrive, by which time the infection could reach the bone and euthanasia would be the only option. Either way, the eagle and the boy, partners in crime, would have to say goodbye. To say that I felt guilty would have been the understatement of the century. Watching the boy run his fingers through the feather's around Bold's crop caused my throat to constrict on itself, my eyes beginning to sting. Would it have been better if I'd let his father kill the eagle instead?
No. I shook the thought from my mind. I wouldn't have been able to stand by and let that happen. Not to my favourite bird species in the world and certainly not to someone's faithful companion. It just didn't seem fair that the pair had to part like this. I moved my hand up to my mouth to try and hide the gagging on the lump in my throat. At that moment, felt a gentle hand grab the sleeve of my jacket. I looked up to find Naran smiling at my sympathetically, his eyes soft and kind. "Don't worry," he whispered to me, his voice much gentler than normal. "Either way, Sükh and Bold were to part company. By saving them, you've given them both a chance to live and move on." I frowned slightly at his words, dropping away from his gaze to try and fathom his words. Saving
them? How was I sparing them both a fate exactly? I met his gaze again, but I didn't need to say anything. His justification was already prepared. "Saving the eagle was the obvious one: you'll heal him and, with your knowledge of falconry, be able to treat him well. But Sükh," he paused, looking at the man as he spoke, "Sükh you saved in a different way. By saving his eagle, you've given him hope. Hope that the bird, whom he raised as his own child, will now have the chance to live his life to the full." He nudged my elbow softly. "Who knows? He might train another and have another shot at the test." I was still uncertain at his words, but Naran refused to let me linger on them for to long. He tapped my shoulder with a slightly firmer edge. "Come on, it's time to go."
Just as we finished loading Bold's cage into the back of the Land Rover, I heard Saikhan calling my name. I span around to meet him, Naran running over to act as a mediator between us. He looked at me as he spoke, his deep brown eyes filled with an unreadable emotion I was not able to fathom. After a rather lengthy speech in Mongolian, I turned to my translator, eyebrow raised in anticipation for the answer. Naran's grin suddenly made me frown and as Saikhan disappeared behind the Ger again all I could do was stand there, looking rather lost and ridiculous. Suddenly, our host re-appeared from behind the Ger, leading Bataar dressed in possibly the most beautiful Mongolian tack I had ever seen. Naran began explaining as Saikhan approached:
"He said that they cannot thank you enough for offering to save Bold. Though the boy may never see his eagle again, it will give him great hope to know that his eagle will be taken care of in expert hands. With this hope, someday he will be able to train another bird in Bold's place." Naran took a moment to record my facial expression in the back of his mind before continuing. "There are no words we can use the describe our gratitude for the service you have given us. As you are probably aware, we don't have the means to provide you with Western money for the medicine, nor is it in the tradition of our ancestors. That is why, as is tradition, I gift you Bataar," art which point Saikhan placed the lead rope for Bataar's halter into the palm of my hand, "as a sign of our thanks."
How did I feel at that exact moment? Stunned? Surprised? Overjoyed? To be honest, I didn't know what to feel. I still felt bad about taking Bold away, but now I was being offered Bataar? How could I accept this gift?! But at the same time, refusing such a beautiful gift would be an insult to Saikhan and his family! ((AN: I wonder why this sounds familiar... e_e )) I looked to Naran for help, but all he did was shrug and say, "it's up to you, Dr Doddes." Well that didn't exactly help the situation. Woodland Trax Stables still had a lot of room, not to mention that an extension was being added with the newly acquired land. I took a sharp breath in as I mulled my thoughts over. To take or not to take? I could see Sükh out of the corner of my eye. For a brief moment we made eye contact. Looking into those deep brown eyes, I could feel his answer in his gaze. A subtle nod backed it up. I gulped quietly to myself. It seemed that I had little choice. Besides, even my heart of hearts agreed with him. I had built a good relationship of trust between Bataar and myself whilst out here. He was a reliable ride. No question about it. I turned to Saikhan and nodded my head, confirming my acceptance of his offer. A huge grin of satisfaction crossed his face as he handed me the stallion's reins, shaking my left hand in the process. Naran chuckled, as we hadn't brought a horsebox with us, but offered to fetch one of the ones from the airport for me. That's when it hit me:
How on Earth was I supposed to explain this to GenEqus?!~~*~~
Story very very very loosely based off the ending of Martin Clune's Horsepower documentary! ^u^ 
