Every October, on a plain outside Ulgii in the far west, a hundred Kazakh hunters ride in with a golden eagle on the arm. The bird is called from a hilltop and dives to its owner's glove at speed; the judges score the call, the catch and the partnership. Between rounds there is horse racing, a coin snatched from the ground at a gallop, and a tug of war over a goat skin that gets serious fast.
It is the most photographed weekend in Mongolia and also the most misunderstood. The festival is the show. The point is the families. We stay with hunters we have known for years, ride out with them in the days before, watch a young eagle being trained, and arrive at the festival with people rather than as spectators.
Flights to Ulgii sell out, the few hotels sell out, and the good hunters fill their gers with old friends. We hold all three from June.
