Nomadic Herders: finish on a cliche, with a twist.

Today is my penultimate day at Mercy Corps Mongolia. It seems quite fitting to finish off by writing a story about a Mongolian herder - the most cliche of Mongolian experiences. The family was gorgeous. The little girl one of the cutest ever, and that is saying something in a land of insanely cute kids. The location was stunning. In Gobi-Altai province - Gobi means desert and Altai means mountains - this place was named very literally. The drive to this herder is something I want to forget. It was dark (before sunrise) and bumpy and I don't think the driver found any kind of road for a lot of it.

But the drive back. Weeeew!

The sun was just getting over the mountains, and we were hit with amazing light shining off the gobi-esque sand dunes, with towering, snow covered mountains in the distance. It was the most amazing "this is truly stunningly beautiful" moment I have had here, and there have been many.

And despite the nomadic herder being a Mongolian cliche, it really isn't a cliche at all. It is a fantastically amazing feat that these guys live like they do, and love it.

The Scenery

The Story

Smarter Herding: Sheep Coats
Bayraa, Gobi Altai Province

Bayraa is a 35 year old husband, father of three and ‘champion’ herder in his home province, Gobi Altai.

He was awarded the ‘champion’ herder title in recognition of his community minded response the natural disaster, called dzud, that hit his region and decimated a quarter of all livestock across Mongolia. Dzud is a combination of dry summer, meaning fodder doesn’t grow; followed by severe winter, brining cold temperatures, icy winds and large amounts of snow resulting in widespread death of livestock due to starvation.

A combination of preparation and luck meant that Bayraa’s herd only suffered minimal impact. Watching herders around him lose their animals – their source of food, and income; with no way to start again he came up with a scheme to give them some of his livestock in return for labour.

Today we are visiting Bayraa and his family to see a new ‘sheep coat’ in action. Bayraa volunteered to trial a Mercy Corps initiative of coating sheep and goats in winter. The idea is based on standard practice in Australia, the largest producer of sheep meat in the world, where sheep are covered in specifically designed plastic covers to protect their wool from damage and keep them warm in cold weather. Of course, conditions in Mongolia are significantly colder with winter temperatures plummeting below negative thirty degrees Celsius, and staying there for almost half the year.

Traditionally Mongolian herders move their herds to pasture daily, bringing them into basic wooden shelters at night, with no additional coverings during winter. Simply covering animals in blankets is fraught with danger: if the animal sweats they will freeze to death. The material being used in the new coats is a breathable plastic, whisking away sweat while generating heat to keep the animal warm. Changing traditional ways is hard, but Bayraa is one of a new generation of herders willing to try new things.

“Traditionally herders do not cover their animals. But also traditionally herders get less income when their products are poor quality from a hard winter, or traditionally we would lose all our animals in dzud. Sometimes traditions need to change.”

Nearing the end of our two hour journey to Bayraa’s home we spot a wolf darting past in the distance. My Mongolian colleagues chatter excitedly. Seeing a wolf like that means we are very lucky.

We arrive at Bayraa’s ger, the traditional round tent-like nomadic dwelling of Mongolians, as the sun is starting to rise. There is smoke coming from the ger chimney, so we know the family – or at least mum – is awake. With no mobile phone reception and no coincidental visit by Bayraa to the provincial town we had no way of warning the family we would be visiting. For these reasons Mercy Corps visits are usually an expected surprise, but a party including a UB officer and a foreign person with lots of questions was surely not expected.

Inside the ger Bayraa and his wife Urantuya are barely out of bed. Their almost one year old daughter is still fast asleep, gently snoring from the single mattress on the floor that the family shares each night.

[our sweet driver was instant friends with the little cutey, once she woke up]

As Urantuya is preparing salty milk tea on the single stove over the ger’s fire the milk boils over. The same kind of excited chatter I heard at the earlier wolf sighting springs up again. Another lucky sign – milk boiling over symbolizes an abundance of blessings for the people inside the ger, I am told.

With so much luck around I am not surprised at Bayraa’s success. As he talks about his achievements he is humble, yet clearly proud. His true joy is in training race horses. As a boy he learnt from his father and grandfather, and now his own son is eager to learn from him. What stands out is his attention to the comfort of his animals. In addition to the usual daily feeding from pasture, he prepares special fodder for his animals with different ingredients to suit the seasons.

This is one of the reasons his animals survived the dzud. Bayraa has the foresight to prepare fodder in autumn to safeguard against a hard winter. Even in a relatively good winter, icy winds and scarce fodder greatly reduce the quality of sheep and goats’ coats. The level of stress an animal experiences is directly reflected in the quality of their wool, so when Mongolian animals stand outside all day in icy winds, their coats suffer and they need more fodder to produce the energy to stay alive. In the long term this means herders get less money for their raw materials.

If livestock can be protected from winds they will both eat less and produce better quality wool, as well as having a better quality of life.

After fitting the new coats to his livestock it was only a matter of hours before neighboring herders rode over on their horses to find out what was going on.

[family with a coated sheep]

“All herders watch each other with binoculars. After I put the coats on my sheep and goats my neighbors were really worried about what I had done to my animals. To them it was a really strange idea.”

“For the first three days the goats without coats were scared of the goats with coats - they were very curious about the coats and tried to remove them with their horns. Now, though, they are used to it and don’t cause any trouble.”

[family outside their ger]

Three months into the trial herders have noticed their coated animals are returning home ahead of the flock, long before its dark. This is a sign that they need less food - one of the key benefits of the coats. When spring comes herders will be able to assess whether the coats have bought a tangible improvement to their animals’ wool.

“I am not sure what will happen. I hope the coated animals weigh more and have better quality coats then the normal animals and that their bodies are stronger and healthier. We will see what happens. But even if there is no difference I am proud to try new ways of helping my animals and earning more income.”

[their home - the ger on the left]