Eagle dinner of washed fox meat

MANILA, Philippines — In the home of the hunters, Altai golden eagles (“berkuts”) eat first; the master and his family, last.

Kazakh “berkutchis” (eagle hunters) treat their eagles like their own children and revere them as protectors who ward off evil and guard their loved ones and their sacred hearths.

Shamans often take on the spirit of eagles. They adorn babies’ cradles with the raptors’ beaks and talons as talismans. And “berkuts” heal. To calm down the deranged and ease the pain of childbirth, Kazakhs bring them an eagle and make them listen to the raptor’s call.

So, I wasn’t surprised that before Tekei’s family and guests sat down for supper, my host sprawled to one side of the lodge, slicing fox meat to bite-sized slivers, washing them in water before placing them in a wooden scoop to feed his eagle.

“She shouldn’t drink blood. She’ll get fat and refuse to hunt,” he explained through Zaya, our Boojum Expedition guide-interpreter, when I asked why he rinsed the meat.

Tekei was a third-generation “berkutchi”. He grew up under the Socialist regime, finished secondary school and served in the military before working as a wrangler-farmer. He married Abijak at 26 but started hunting with eagles late, at 45, after all his kids had grown up.

As the youngest son, he stayed with his parents and inherited their property, according to Kazakh custom. None of his brothers wanted to be a “berkutchi”. He’s 62 now and intends to hunt with eagles for as long as he can. It’s an exhilarating sport, he acknowledged.

“My grandfather was an eagle-hunter. He taught my father, who taught me all he knew,” he narrated. “My father trained more than 20 eagles. He said I should have the best horse and the best eagle to catch the fox or the wolf and that I should look after my ‘berkut’ like family so she’ll never leave me. And I’ve never lost an eagle, except the one the wolf killed.”

So far, Tekei has trained four eagles. “We only train females. They are bigger and more aggressive than the males. But I look for certain qualities - healthy brown feathers, well-curved talons, fat in her feet to show she’s strong.”

Carrying his “berkut’s” feeding scoop outside, my host beckoned me to follow. I shone my headlamp in the dark eagle’s house as Tekei lifted the raptor’s “tomaga” – the leather hood that covers her eyes so she stays calm on her perch. She blinked in the sudden light, shook out her feathers and dined eagerly.

She is four years old and Tekei wants to keep her until she is 10, a fraction of her half a century lifespan. Then he will set her free to find a mate and breed the next generation of feathered fox hunters for the “berkutchis”.

“I chose the life of a nomad,” he confided. It wasn’t easy but he has no regrets. He earns 3,000 Tugriks a day, about USD$3. From October to January, he hunts with his eagle, catching about 30 to 40 foxes a year and giving away at least 10 pelts to friends or whoever admires them.

Nomads are hospitable. Visitors can eat everything they lay on the table. When they go out to herd their flocks, they leave their tent-homes (“gers”) open, with food and drink ready for anyone. If strangers get lost in a storm or wander in tired or hungry, they can fill their bellies and rest inside. In this vast, savage land, such hospitality spells the difference between life and death.

If he is not herding his flock, Tekei hunts. Sadly, he can’t support his family just by selling fox pelts, which fetches around USD$9 each. When he needs cash to buy basic necessities, he sells his livestock in Ulgii City.

When his firstborn son married, Tekei gave him flocks of sheep and goats plus a “ger” of his own. But it won’t be that way with Jaji, his youngest girl. She’ll belong to her husband’s family when she weds though she’ll bring her bed, mirror, cooking pots and pans with her. Kazakhs give more for their sons’ marriages than for their daughters’.

When Tekei dies, all his property will go to Khanat, his youngest son. Right now, the newly-married young man is too busy herding sheep but his father has already trained him to be a “berkutchi”. “He’ll be an eagle-hunter like me when he’s older.”

“The hardest part is catching the eaglet,” Tekei stressed. First, he locates a nest and makes sure the chick is a female with the qualities he wanted. Getting his quarry is another matter.

“I catch my ‘berkut’ before she’s fledged. I tie a rope-sling around my body. Helpers lower me over the eyrie. But last time, the mother eagle nearly killed me.”

She dived-bombed him as he scooped up her eaglet, raking his back with her talons and buffeting him with her nine-foot-long wings to throw him off the cliff. If not for the sling, he would have hurtled thousands of feet below.

“Berkutchis” also catch eaglets using lasso poles, meat traps or nets. Others shine a light on the eaglet’s eyes at night to dazzle her and lasso her when she freezes. Some scare the juveniles from the eyrie and catch her when she falls to the ground or wait for the eaglet when she first flies out of the nest before they lasso her.

A number of hunters chase and catch young birds when they are heavily loaded with their kills, or rain-drenched, too wet and heavy to fly. Some snare wild juveniles using trained eagles. But hunters see to it they don’t take eaglets from the same nest every year.

The hunter’s family welcomes the newly-caught “berkut” with great ceremony, showering her with grain like a bride. The mistress of the house sews an owl’s feather on the raptor’s wing to shield her from harm.

Then hunters clean the eagle’s stomach by putting a “koya” in her mouth, giving her water and inducing her to vomit. Savage eagles are tied with strings – much like a horse hobbled and line-trained to obey. And because eagles have to be silent when they hunt, “berkutchis” fasten a piece of wood under the bird’s chins to keep them from screaming.

Next, the “berkutchi” mounts his horse and gallops with the eagle perched on his arm, supported by a slingshot-shaped wood and leather contraption called “baldakh”.

After the eagle learns to keep her balance, the “berkutchi” teaches her to pounce on lures made from fox and rabbit skins. Eventually, the eagle graduates to hunting and killing live foxes, wolves and “argal” – wild sheep

Day after tomorrow, we hunt with Tekei’s eagle. So, I came to watch the “berkut’s” training session next morning.

“I have no secrets. I’ve already trained two promising ‘berkutchis’,” my host chatted amiably as he worked on his eagle’s jesses. He has won awards in the October eagle hunting competitions in Bayan Ulgii for three years in a row. “I’m willing to teach others.”

I tagged along as Tekei marched his eagle into the saddle of the mountains. In the middle of the clearing, he slipped the hood off her head and tossed her high in the air.

The eagle soared above us, circling lazily, her jesses trailing, until Tekei whooped to call her in. Unlike Western falconers, Kazakhs don’t use whistles. Fortunately, the voice seems to carry far in this vast emptiness.

The huge raptor slammed on her master’s glove and grabbed the rabbit’s leg he offered. He allowed her a single bite, just to whet her appetite, before he made her fly again, further this time.

When she was but a speck in the blue heavens, he took out a fox skin lure, whooped and tossed it high overhead.

The eagle dropped like a bullet from the sky, straight to the lure. She pounced and mantled, instinctively spreading her wings over the lure to hide it. Tekei did a fast “exchange”, distracting her with the meat on his glove so he can retrieve the fox skin.

That night, he asked me to assist him cleanse the eagle’s stomach. I held a bowl of salted milk tea as he pried open her beak with a straw, sipped a mouthful of tea and spewed it down her throat.

Once every three days, he force-feeds her salted milk tea when she is not hunting and on the eve before she hunts. No need to put leather thongs on her talons though, he assured me.

Some “berkutchis”, like the famous one in Ulgii, hunt wolves using two eagles, binding their feet in thick leather strips to protect them from their powerful prey’s fangs.

But as I stroked the crop of Tekei’s magnificent raptor, my mind went back to her predecessor’s snowy grave on the Altai’s peak.

Under my hand, the young eagle felt so warm, so alive.

And I feared for her.

(Next week: The Great Fox Hunt)

(For questions, comments, suggestions, etc. please contact the author at emmieabadilla@yahoo.com.)