China Daily Global Edition (USA)
Talley Hu?
A commonplace event in the kazakh communities in Xinjiang
Foxhunting with the Kazahks is on horseback, just like the Brits do, but the differences take off — on the wings of eagles.
The eagle explodes into the fox, talons first, harpooning the canine’s back. There’s the punch of impact, wallops of wings, then the crackling of the fox’s spine.
The predator-vs-predator death match is over. The prey lost. The raptor has delivered its payload — two sets of barbed deathtraps, jeering from its feet that clench into the fox’s neck and its tail’s base. The eagle then wrenches the canine’s legs to scrunch its backbone backward into a U-shape.
Death from above is part of life on the ground in the Ili Kazak autonomous prefecture.
This is a commonplace event in the ethnically Kazakh swathes of the Xinjiang autonomous region, where nomads have hunted with golden eagles since time immemorial.
Techniques remain essentially unaltered.
Still, such scenes remind one of why many modern fighter jets and projectiles are named after eagles.
These real raptor rockets’ launchpads are horseback nomads’ forearms.
The bird-of-prey warheads blast off herders’ leather gloves, whooshing over snowcaps, honing trajectories like homing missiles, zeroing in on one target.
Yet their precision is often less than surgical. Foxes lash frantic jaws at attackers. It’s hunter against hunter. Then, the horseback herders gallop in to not only defend their “sons” (the eagles) but also to protect the precious pelts from being gashed in the tussles.
They tug the hysterical canines from the raptors’ clutches to slaughter them as quickly and mercifully as possible.
Eagles eat the meat. Herders wear the hides.
Hasan Wormanbek’s 4-year-old grandson’s cap is fashioned from a fox his previous eagle caught.
Ili’s Kazakh nomads don’t eat or wear rabbits, since it’s not halal, the 76-year-old explains. They feed them to the birds. Rabbits are faster than foxes. Or wolves. Two eagles working together can slay a wolf, Wormanbek says.
Wolves are up to six times heavier than golden eagles. And they also thrash and gnash when clutched.
“Hunting with eagles is a science,” says Wormanbek, aburkitshi (Kazakh for a person who hunts with eagles). “You must follow nature.” He has raised four birds of prey since 1976, when his father passed the tradition down to him. He has since taught his son.
“Eagles and trainers form bonds,” Wormanbek says.
“My eagle flies around me when I’m herding on the grassland. He always comes back.”
Owning golden eagles is illegal, but ethnic Kazakhs are exempt. The hunting tradition has been sustained for all of recorded history and remains entrenched in their cultural identity.
They must register each captive bird with the government.
They don’t breed them. Rather, they hunt the eagles they in turn hunt with.
Xinjiang’s Kazakh nomads most often take eaglets from nests.
“I know every nest on the mountain,” Wormanbek says.
That’s how he got his current raptor.
Otherwise, nomads bait them with meat and nab them with nets. Or they find eagles gobbling carrion and wait until the birds overindulge. Bloated raptors are too sluggish to escape after excessive gluttony.
Golden eagles gulp about 2 kilograms of meat a day.
“Some herdsmen don’t want to raise them because it’s expensive,” Wormanbek says.
Meat means money in nomadic communities, where livestock is the primary currency.
The birds molt from May to September and need more nutrition to grow thicker and longer feathers in autumn.
Wormanbek’s current eagle is nearly a year old. The birds live 11 years on average.
That said, elderly eagles are typically set free to live out their last days in the wild. It’s like retirement.
Incompetent predators are laid off early.
“Some are born hunters. Others just steal their prey,” Wormanbek says.
His yearling hasn’t yet had the chance to prove itself.
The season for hunting with eagles starts in September, when snow makes tracks conspicuous.
“The fun isn’t in the killing but in watching the birds diving, tackling and wrestling prey.”
There are more than 100 burkitshi in Sarkuobu village.
“Some of the old-timers have died. But even more youth are taking up the tradition,” Wormanbek says.
It’s a rare example of an ancient custom that’s flourishing, rather than evaporating, in contemporary times.
Tourism helps rejuvenate burkitshi, he says, but remains an anemically nascent industry in Zhaosu county.
Wormanbek joins a team of eagle hunters during the county’s Heavenly Horse International Tourism Festival to display the tradition for tourists. They perform for free. About 8,000 visitors attended last year. There isn’t much else to Zhaosu’s tourism beyond the festival — yet. The concept of it as an industry only arrived two years ago.
“Tourists like larger eagles. But they often aren’t the best hunters,” Wormanbek says.
“Bigger isn’t better. The grander-seeming birds are often clumsier.”
But Zhaosu’s tiny tourism industry is far from the main motivator.
“Some people in their 80s do it to stay healthy … It’s a true sport. It’s like going to the gym for me. I’m old but in great shape.”
Most local burkitshi head for the mountains before sunrise and return around 10 to tend to their livestock.
Wormanbek says coaching relies on rewards without punishments.
“Fear training doesn’t work,” he says. “You have to be kind to them.” He says birds won’t eat from trainers’ hands at first. “You must build trust,” he says. Nomads initially skewer meat on sticks and patiently wait until the birds’ hunger overcomes their apprehensions — until their stomachs trump their brains. It’s a battle for the mind. “Gradually, they’ll feel comfortable eating from your hand,” Wormanbek says. The process takes about a month. “At first you must raise your arm about a meter above your head and it’ll perch on your falconry glove,” he said.
The birds later learn to respond to calls.
Eagles also join household dinners during the training.
“He’s a family member, too,” Wormanbek says.
To train eagles to perch on people’s arms on horseback, Ili’s Kazakh burkitshi place them on a swinging rope to learn balance. They awake the raptors if they doze off during these rock-a-bye-birdie sessions.
Nomads prop up the arms upon which they carry the birds on horseback with a Y-shaped crutch.
Kills drills come after intimacy is established with the burkitshi.
Wormanbek explains this while stroking the cloth fox decoy he sewed to drag behind horses with a noose of meat dangling from its mouth for eagles to practice plunging on.
The irony of his gentle petting of the teddy-like animal, with button eyes and a real foxtail (provided by his previous eagle), while describing how the gaming birds kill them, seems lost on him.
As he strokes the cuddly creature, he describes how an eagle’s blinders are its detonation device.
“The eagle is constantly on high alert without its mask. It’s exhausting for the bird,” Wormanbek says.
Once it’s off, it immediately scans for predators and prey.
Before a hunt, nomads whet the birds’ appetites with a chunk of meat from which the blood is washed until it’s white. “It wants blood,” Wormanbek says. Catching an animal satiates its hunting instinct inflamed by the pallid meat, he says.
Wormanbek says training eagles in turn physically and mentally trains the burkitshi.
“Eagles are smart and tough but also sensitive,” Wormanbek says.
“They’re disappointed if they don’t catch anything. When they feel like this, you should pet and hug them and offer soothing words. They don’t like anything gruff.”
Wormanbek says he was brusque until he became a burkitshi.
“Once I started training eagles, they in turn, trained me,” Wormanbek says.
“They taught me patience and serenity.”
The fun isn’t in the killing but in watching the birds diving, tackling and wrestling prey.”
Hasan Wormanbek