My close-up with one of Mongolia’s biggest birds of prey
By Allyson Seaborn. If you’re taking the only road that leads to Terelj from Ulaanbaatar, you may be able to spot a Mongolian man with a collection of birds of prey by the side of the road. Tourists or curious expats like me often stop for a peek and a photo. I was absolutely fascinated by the largest bird this man had – a Cinerous Vulture.
A months or so ago I attended the 2012 Eagle Festival in Ulaanbaatar and was thrilled at the chance to hold a Golden Eagle. Looking back, however, this vulture on the roadside made a tiny eagle look like a parakeet in comparison. The difference in body size is 25 kg (vulture) as opposed to 5 kg (eagle). Would I be perturbed by the weight of a few extra feathers? Of course not; I was after a Bear Grylls, action-type shot.
It seemed cruel that this giant creature was tethered to a post all day for entertainment’s sake. These vultures – whose wingspan can boast an impressive 9 feet, are actually an endangered species throughout most of the world. Current estimates put the global population at about five thousand.
Although there are plenty of nesting sites for these vultures in Mongolia, these sites are very much connected to the livestock of nomad herders which have been diminishing over recent years. What’s worse is that every year more than one thousand young vultures migrate from Mongolia to the Korean peninsula for winter. Once there, they often encounter starvation, electrocution, poisoning and shooting. Looking back, I wonder whether the one on the side of the road was perhaps lucky.
I have never been one to shy away from birds or from a good photo opportunity, but as I stood there, my arm grasping onto a post for support, panic set in. I shut my eyes as he was positioned on my arm. I gazed up at the vulture’s long, black claws which I could still feel digging into my protective leather glove. I then looked at its beak – if “beak” is actually the right word. It looked more like a curved butchers knife, pointy and razor sharp. With one large flap of its majestic left wing, this feathered beast knocked my sunglasses off leaving me quite disheveled and unnerved. I could hear roars of laughter from other roadside onlookers. My two children screamed with terror, but my cameraman (aka husband) just stood there with a cheeky “serves you right” grin. SNAP, not one of my better photos.
After the introduction of Buddhism in Mongolia, many Mongols switched from earth burials to "sky burials" where the bodies of deceased family members were left upon mountains to be eaten by scavengers such as the Cinereous Vultures. Today sky burials still continue in remote, rural regions of Mongolia where there is a larger population of these vultures. The Buddhist Mongolians believe that there is no need to preserve the body once it is an “empty vessel,” so the function of a sky burial is simply to dispose of human flesh. Due to the scarcity of timber and fuel in remote regions, this type of burial is also more practical than cremation. A lot of Westerners find this gruesome, but when you think about it, it’s really quite practical. The vulture was now glaring at me with its big black eyes.
As I begged the owner to please get him off me immediately (no translation necessary) I realized that with one swipe of his beak he could have taken my nose off or left a deep gash in my arm. I silently prayed that this enormous and frighteningly ugly vulture wasn’t feeling peckish.
If you have the chance to pull over and see this gigantic bird on the way to Terelj, I highly recommend it. And, if you’re game, for only a handful of tugriks you can get up close and personal.
I truly regret not asking the owner some important questions about this amazing creature’s welfare, what it regularly ate, what his life expectancy was or did he ever get a break from sitting on a post all day. The only question which came to mind at the time, which I asked via my translator, was – “What is his name?”
The response I got? Simply “vulture.”
A months or so ago I attended the 2012 Eagle Festival in Ulaanbaatar and was thrilled at the chance to hold a Golden Eagle. Looking back, however, this vulture on the roadside made a tiny eagle look like a parakeet in comparison. The difference in body size is 25 kg (vulture) as opposed to 5 kg (eagle). Would I be perturbed by the weight of a few extra feathers? Of course not; I was after a Bear Grylls, action-type shot.
It seemed cruel that this giant creature was tethered to a post all day for entertainment’s sake. These vultures – whose wingspan can boast an impressive 9 feet, are actually an endangered species throughout most of the world. Current estimates put the global population at about five thousand.
Today, they mainly breed in the mountainous regions of Mongolia and high in the Himalayas. There have even been recent sightings of these birds near Mount Everest at altitudes of up to 23,000 feet.
Mongolia actually supports the largest remaining breeding community of Cinereous Vultures, which amounts to about 75 percent of the world's population. Their demise across the rest of the globe has been attributed to hunting, poisoning, loss of nesting habitat due to human disturbance and a dwindling supply of food.
Mongolia actually supports the largest remaining breeding community of Cinereous Vultures, which amounts to about 75 percent of the world's population. Their demise across the rest of the globe has been attributed to hunting, poisoning, loss of nesting habitat due to human disturbance and a dwindling supply of food.
Although there are plenty of nesting sites for these vultures in Mongolia, these sites are very much connected to the livestock of nomad herders which have been diminishing over recent years. What’s worse is that every year more than one thousand young vultures migrate from Mongolia to the Korean peninsula for winter. Once there, they often encounter starvation, electrocution, poisoning and shooting. Looking back, I wonder whether the one on the side of the road was perhaps lucky.
I have never been one to shy away from birds or from a good photo opportunity, but as I stood there, my arm grasping onto a post for support, panic set in. I shut my eyes as he was positioned on my arm. I gazed up at the vulture’s long, black claws which I could still feel digging into my protective leather glove. I then looked at its beak – if “beak” is actually the right word. It looked more like a curved butchers knife, pointy and razor sharp. With one large flap of its majestic left wing, this feathered beast knocked my sunglasses off leaving me quite disheveled and unnerved. I could hear roars of laughter from other roadside onlookers. My two children screamed with terror, but my cameraman (aka husband) just stood there with a cheeky “serves you right” grin. SNAP, not one of my better photos.
After the introduction of Buddhism in Mongolia, many Mongols switched from earth burials to "sky burials" where the bodies of deceased family members were left upon mountains to be eaten by scavengers such as the Cinereous Vultures. Today sky burials still continue in remote, rural regions of Mongolia where there is a larger population of these vultures. The Buddhist Mongolians believe that there is no need to preserve the body once it is an “empty vessel,” so the function of a sky burial is simply to dispose of human flesh. Due to the scarcity of timber and fuel in remote regions, this type of burial is also more practical than cremation. A lot of Westerners find this gruesome, but when you think about it, it’s really quite practical. The vulture was now glaring at me with its big black eyes.
As I begged the owner to please get him off me immediately (no translation necessary) I realized that with one swipe of his beak he could have taken my nose off or left a deep gash in my arm. I silently prayed that this enormous and frighteningly ugly vulture wasn’t feeling peckish.
If you have the chance to pull over and see this gigantic bird on the way to Terelj, I highly recommend it. And, if you’re game, for only a handful of tugriks you can get up close and personal.
I truly regret not asking the owner some important questions about this amazing creature’s welfare, what it regularly ate, what his life expectancy was or did he ever get a break from sitting on a post all day. The only question which came to mind at the time, which I asked via my translator, was – “What is his name?”
The response I got? Simply “vulture.”
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