From North Pole to Equator: Studies of Wild Life and Scenes in Many Lands

by Alfred Edmund Brehm

To the race, which is called “Baika”, only the finest horses, and of these only amblers are usually admitted. The distances to be traversed are always considerable,—never less than twenty, and frequently forty kilometres: the riders make for a certain point in the steppe, such as a hillock, or a burial-place, and then return as they went. Boys of seven, eight, or at most ten years of age, sit in the saddle, and guide the horses with remarkable skill. The spectators ride slowly to meet the returning horses, give help, called “guturma”, to the steed which seems to have most chance of winning, by taking off the little rider, seizing reins, stirrups, mane, and tail, and leading, or rather dragging it to the goal between fresh horses. The prizes raced for consist of various things, but are always reckoned as equivalent to so many horses. Two or three thousand silver roubles are frequently offered as the first prize: among the richer families the stakes are one hundred horses or their equivalent. Young girls, too, are sometimes offered as prizes, the winner of one being allowed to marry her without making the usual payment to her family.

While the race-horses are on their way, the men often pass the time by exercising their own physical powers. Two men divest themselves of their outer garments, baring the shoulders and upper parts of the body, and begin to wrestle. The mode of attack varies. The combatants seize one another, bend towards one another, turn about in a circle, each always watching the other carefully, and seeking to parry every effort, real or feigned, till suddenly one of them exerts his full strength, and the other, if he has not foreseen this, is thrown to the ground. Others begin the attack more impetuously, but meet with such strenuous resistance that the struggle lasts a long time before one succeeds in vanquishing his opponent. The spectators encourage them, praise and blame, cheer and scoff, betting among themselves the while, and becoming more and more excited as the balance inclines to one side or the other. At length, one lies on the ground, laughed at by the whole company, ashamed and humiliated, in his secret heart probably embittered. Cries from every throat fill the air, pieces of cloth, perhaps only rags of cotton, are torn up and distributed to balance accounts; reproaches mingle with shouts of applause, and the match is over, unless the vanquished one suddenly seeks his revenge, and attacks his Opponent once more. A wrestling match never comes to an end without noise, screaming, and wrangling, but actual fighting seldom takes place.

Fig. 71.—Hunting the Wolf with the Golden Eagle.

Hunting must be reckoned among the equestrian sports of the Kirghiz. When a sportsman gets on the track Of a wolf, he follows it with such eagerness and persistence that he takes little heed though the cold, doubly felt when riding quickly, should seriously imperil him, that is, if his face and hands should become frozen; for, if his horse holds out, he almost certainly succeeds at length in throwing his heavy club at his victim’s head. But his favourite mode of hunting is with eagles and greyhounds. Like his forefathers, he understands how to tame and carry the golden eagle, and with the bird sitting on his thickly-gloved hand, which is supported on a wooden rest fastened to the saddle, he ascends some hillock from which he can command a wide view. Meanwhile, his companions beat the surrounding steppe for game. The game may be wolf or fox, unless the eagle is not yet thoroughly trained, in which case it is either a marmot or a fox. No very special training of the eagle is required; it is only necessary that it be taken young from the nest, that it be always fed by the sportsman himself, and that it be taught to return to its master at his call: inherited habit does the rest. As soon as the beaters have started a fox, the huntsman unhoods and unchains his bird, and lets it fly. The eagle spreads its wings, begins to circle, and rises in a spiral higher and higher, spies the hard-pressed fox, flies after him, descends obliquely upon him with half-closed wings, and strikes its outspread talons into its victim’s body. The fox turns round in a fury, and attempts to seize his foe with his sharp teeth; if he succeeds, the eagle is lost. But almost all these birds of prey, which are as strong as they are bold, have an instinctive feeling of such danger, and the skill to avoid it. The very moment the fox turns, the eagle lets go its hold, and an instant later its talons are fixed in its quarry’s face. Triumphant acclamations from its much-loved master, who now draws near, encourage the eagle to hold fast, and a few minutes later the fox, felled by the huntsman, lies dying on the ground. Many an eagle has to pay for the boldness of its first venture with its life; but if the first attempt is successful, it soon becomes so skilful that it can be flown at a wolf. Though the attack on the wolf is made in precisely the same manner, the eagle’s bearing is, from the very beginning, perceptibly more cautious; the size of the wolf teaches it that it has to do with a much more dangerous foe. But it learns to vanquish even the wolf, and its fame, as well as its master’s, spreads abroad among the people, and as its renown becomes greater its value increases. An eagle which can kill a fox is worth thirty or forty silver roubles; one which can vanquish a wolf is valued at twice or three times as much, if, indeed, its master would sell it at all. It is not possible to hunt with two eagles, as one would disturb the other; but one alone often enters into the chase with so much ardour that it makes it very difficult for its master to help, especially if it will not willingly let go its hold of the quarry it has seized.

If the Kirghiz who is hunting with an eagle requires to bring all his powers of horsemanship into play, that is still more necessary when hunting antelopes with greyhounds. These rather long-haired dogs run like shot arrows when they have sighted the game, and the rider courses after them up hill and down dale until he and they have overtaken the fleet fugitive. If anyone falls on such a ride, he earns only a half-pitying, half-mocking smile, as the mad hunt rushes past him.

Fig. 72.—Kirghiz in pursuit of Wild Sheep.

Even when driving game among the mountains, the Kirghiz do not dismount from their horses. It was a magnificent sight to see the horsemen who were driving wild sheep for our guns in the Arkat mountains begin their break-neck ride. Here and there on the highest points, as well as in the hollows, valleys, and ravines between them, one horseman after another showed up clearly against the clouds, and was lost to view again between masses of rock, to appear shortly afterwards upon the stony slopes. None dismounted, none hesitated an instant to choose his path. It was easier for them to ride among the mountains than to walk.

The sportsman’s endurance is on a par with his boldness. Not only on horseback, but while stalking and lying in wait for his game, he shows marvellous perseverance. That he follows a trail for several days is not remarkable, when we take his love of riding into account; but with the matchlock, which he still uses as often as the flintlock, in his hand, he will creep for five or six hundred yards along the ground like a stealthy cat, or lie in wait for hours in storm and rain until the game comes within range of his gun. He never shoots at long range, and never without resting the barrel of his gun on the fork attached to it, but he aims with certainty, and knows exactly where to send his bullet.