him if I have any interest in becoming a great hunter. A journalist from the Mongol League came to the horse unit to see me the other day. Batu was there; you can ask him if I didn’t cut the number in half.”
“Is that true?” the old man turned and asked his son.
“Yes,” Batu replied, “but the man didn’t believe him. He asked people at the purchasing station how many wolf pelts Lamjav had sold them. You know that after they check the quality of the pelts to determine the price, they give the seller twenty bullets. And they keep records. After the journalist returned to the league, he said over the air that Lamjav had nearly caught up with Buhe, which so frightened Lamjav that he asked others to sell his pelts for him.”
The old man frowned. “You two hunt wolves too often. You get more kills than anyone on the pasture.”
Batu defended himself: “The grazing land for our herd of horses is the closest to the border with Outer Mongolia, and that’s where most of the wolves are. If we don’t hunt them, they’ll cross the border in even greater numbers. Most of the foals that year did not survive.”
“Why are both of you here? Did you leave the herd in the care of Zhang Jiyuan?”
“The wolves come at night,” Batu said, “so we relieve him then. He’s never taken gazelles during the day, so we came instead. We can work faster.”
The winter sun lay low in the sky, appearing to settle close to the land. The blue sky turned white, as did the dry grass; the surface of the snow began to melt, forming a glittery mirror. Humans, dogs, and carts had a spectral quality. The men put on their sunglasses, while the women and children covered their eyes with their flapped sleeves. A few of the cowherds, who suffered from sun-blindness, shut their eyes, but not in time to stanch the flow of tears. The big dogs, on the other hand, were either watching wide-eyed at bounding hares or sniffing the side of the road, where foxes had recently left tracks in the snow.
As they neared the site of the encirclement, the dogs discovered something new on the slope and raced over, leaving frenzied barks in their wakes. Those that were still hungry tore into gazelle carcasses the wolves had left behind. But Bilgee’s Bar and a few of the team’s better hunting dogs, their hackles raised, ran over to where the wolves had left droppings in the snow, searching the area to determine how many wolves there had been, how powerful a force, and which alpha male they had followed. “Bar recognizes the scent of most of the Olonbulag wolves,” Bilgee said, “and they recognize his. The way the fur on his neck is standing up is a sure sign that it was a large pack.”
As the riders entered the hunting ground, they sized the scene up by keeping their eyes to the ground. All that remained of most gazelles on the slope were heads and a scattering of bones. Bilgee pointed to the tracks in the snow and said, “Some of them came back last night.” Then he pointed to tufts of grayish-yellow wolf fur and said, “A couple of wolf packs had a fight here. It was probably a pack from the other side of the border that followed the scent of the gazelle herd. The shortage of food there makes them more ferocious than ever.”
The horse team finally made it up to the ridge, where they reacted as if they’d discovered a cornucopia, whooping it up like mad. They waved their hats to the carts behind them. Gasmai jumped down off her wagon and grabbed the bridle of the lead ox to get it to trot. So did the other women. They gathered speed, since the oxen were fast and the carts light.
When Lamjav saw the sight below, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Yow!” he exclaimed. “It took an amazing pack of wolves to herd in that many gazelles. Last year it took more than twenty of us herders to pen thirty, and we nearly ran our horses into the ground doing it.”
Bilgee reined in his horse and took out his telescope to pan the snow-drift and
“Is that true?” the old man turned and asked his son.
“Yes,” Batu replied, “but the man didn’t believe him. He asked people at the purchasing station how many wolf pelts Lamjav had sold them. You know that after they check the quality of the pelts to determine the price, they give the seller twenty bullets. And they keep records. After the journalist returned to the league, he said over the air that Lamjav had nearly caught up with Buhe, which so frightened Lamjav that he asked others to sell his pelts for him.”
The old man frowned. “You two hunt wolves too often. You get more kills than anyone on the pasture.”
Batu defended himself: “The grazing land for our herd of horses is the closest to the border with Outer Mongolia, and that’s where most of the wolves are. If we don’t hunt them, they’ll cross the border in even greater numbers. Most of the foals that year did not survive.”
“Why are both of you here? Did you leave the herd in the care of Zhang Jiyuan?”
“The wolves come at night,” Batu said, “so we relieve him then. He’s never taken gazelles during the day, so we came instead. We can work faster.”
The winter sun lay low in the sky, appearing to settle close to the land. The blue sky turned white, as did the dry grass; the surface of the snow began to melt, forming a glittery mirror. Humans, dogs, and carts had a spectral quality. The men put on their sunglasses, while the women and children covered their eyes with their flapped sleeves. A few of the cowherds, who suffered from sun-blindness, shut their eyes, but not in time to stanch the flow of tears. The big dogs, on the other hand, were either watching wide-eyed at bounding hares or sniffing the side of the road, where foxes had recently left tracks in the snow.
As they neared the site of the encirclement, the dogs discovered something new on the slope and raced over, leaving frenzied barks in their wakes. Those that were still hungry tore into gazelle carcasses the wolves had left behind. But Bilgee’s Bar and a few of the team’s better hunting dogs, their hackles raised, ran over to where the wolves had left droppings in the snow, searching the area to determine how many wolves there had been, how powerful a force, and which alpha male they had followed. “Bar recognizes the scent of most of the Olonbulag wolves,” Bilgee said, “and they recognize his. The way the fur on his neck is standing up is a sure sign that it was a large pack.”
As the riders entered the hunting ground, they sized the scene up by keeping their eyes to the ground. All that remained of most gazelles on the slope were heads and a scattering of bones. Bilgee pointed to the tracks in the snow and said, “Some of them came back last night.” Then he pointed to tufts of grayish-yellow wolf fur and said, “A couple of wolf packs had a fight here. It was probably a pack from the other side of the border that followed the scent of the gazelle herd. The shortage of food there makes them more ferocious than ever.”
The horse team finally made it up to the ridge, where they reacted as if they’d discovered a cornucopia, whooping it up like mad. They waved their hats to the carts behind them. Gasmai jumped down off her wagon and grabbed the bridle of the lead ox to get it to trot. So did the other women. They gathered speed, since the oxen were fast and the carts light.
When Lamjav saw the sight below, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Yow!” he exclaimed. “It took an amazing pack of wolves to herd in that many gazelles. Last year it took more than twenty of us herders to pen thirty, and we nearly ran our horses into the ground doing it.”
Bilgee reined in his horse and took out his telescope to pan the snow-drift and
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