Deadly trap

Day: 274-275

Sunrise:
06:09/06:07

Sunset:
20:32/20:34

Total kilometers:
1341

Soil condition:
Ice, snow

Temperature – Day (maximum):
2°C

Temperature – day (minimum):
minus 15°C

Temperature – Night:
minus 25°C

Latitude:
51°33’337”

Longitude:
099°15’341”

Maximum height:
1981 m above sea level

“Tanja! Denis! Naraa has a problem!” Bilgee’s call rouses us from our deep sleep. “What? Who?” I stammer out in reply, already shot up into a sitting position. “Naraa!!!” Bilgee shouts again and seems to have disappeared. “What about Naraa? Oh God, she’s having her baby!” Tanja realizes and jumps up like a spring. We hastily get dressed. “Yay, yay, it’s cold,” I say. A glance at the thermometer shows minus 20 °C. “Put on everything you can,” I warn Tanja. A few minutes later, we hurriedly step out of the tent and see Ultsan disappear into the forest on his reindeer. “Where’s Bilgee?” asks Tanja. “Probably already ridden ahead. I think he asked Ultsan for help too,” I reply as we hurry down the path to the clearing. When we reach the high valley, we don’t discover anything at first. “Where are they?” asks Tanja. “I don’t know,” I reply, letting my gaze glide over the hollow. Mogi, who has discovered us, barks excitedly. As he is tied to a tree next to Bilgee’s tent, he can’t come to us. “Something’s moving over there,” I say, pointing to two figures that can only be Ultsan and Bilgee. Hurrying through the snow, we trudge towards them.

“Oh God!”, Tanja gasps when she sees Naraa lying in a narrow ditch. “I released the horses at 4:00 this morning. I got up again at 7:00 a.m. to check on them. I had to count at least three times before I realized that Naraa was missing. Then I walked in all directions to look for her scent. At 7:45 a.m. I discovered her here in the ditch. She couldn’t get up on her own. Can you see the tracks here? She was trying to get out again. She must have kept slipping on the ice. She was completely exhausted. When I realized that despite all my tricks I couldn’t get her out of her predicament, I saddled Tenger and rode into camp to get you help. She has to get out of there urgently, otherwise she’ll die,” Bilgee reports excitedly but matter-of-factly. We join forces to try and free our poor Naraa from her predicament. Without success. “Her legs must have fallen asleep,” I suspect. “Bilgee nods. Then he wraps a rope around her body, which is trembling with cold and weakness. Again we try to get her up. “We have to look after her baby. The rope mustn’t squeeze her belly,” I try to explain. “He’ll know what he’s doing,” says Tanja. This attempt is also unsuccessful. “How’s your back?” asks Tanja. “I’m fine”, I reply, as I’ve had to be careful not to lift anything too heavy since having disc surgery a few years ago. But what can I do in this case? It’s all just theory. In an emergency like this, there is no such thing as careful lifting. Nevertheless, I have to be careful otherwise Tanja, Bilgee and Ultsan will have to pull me out of the ditch as well.

After a few minutes of thinking and catching his breath, Bilgee has a new idea. “We turn her across the trench and try to drag her out that way. She has to get off the ice. No matter how. It’s her only chance,” he suggests. “We need reinforcements. Ultsan, can’t you get a few more men from the camp?” asks Tanja nervously. Ultsan does not respond. Bilgee now wraps the rope around Naraa’s fat and tired body using a new lacing technique. “On command!” he says. “Neg! Hoyor! Guraw! Hubaaa!”, Ultsan sets the beat. Naraa has now actually moved a little to the side. “Neg! Hoyor! Guraw! Hubaaa!” Again we were able to slide her plump body a few centimeters. “Neg! Hoyor! Guraw! Hubaaa!” Now her body is turned 90 degrees “Neg! Hoyor! Guraw! Hubaaa!” Unbelievable but true. We were able to pull her out of the ditch a little. “Neg! Hoyor! Guraw! Hubaaa!” Bilgee reties the rope. “Neg! Hoyor! Guraw! Hubaaa!” Naraa comes out of the trench piece by piece. “Neg! Hoyor! Guraw! Hubaaa! Neg! Hoyor! Guraw! Hubaaa! Neg! Hoyor! Guraw! Hubaaa!” Breathing heavily and now also exhausted, we stand there and look at the trembling and apathetic mare. The four of us managed the seemingly impossible and pulled a heavily pregnant mare out of the ditch. “She needs a break now. Then we’ll try to get her to stand up,” suggests Bilgee. Naraa is now lying in the snow and no longer on the ice. If she still has some strength left in her limbs, she should be able to get up. However, all further attempts remain in vain.

“Vodka. We need vodka. It’ll help her get on her feet,” says Bilgee, which is why I think he’s joking at first. “Vodka?” Tanja and I ask at the same time. “Yes. It warms her up and gives her a boost. I’ve got vodka in camp. You stay here and look after her while I ride quickly to the base and get a bottle,” he decides and disappears. “I’ll check on my horses in the meantime,” says Ultsan, gets on his reindeer and rides off too. Tanja and I are now standing next to the increasingly trembling Naraa. “We need to cover her with Bilgee’s Deel. That will keep her warm,” I suggest and put the thick sheepskin coat that our horseman left behind in the excitement over her. In fact, the trembling becomes less. When Naraa lets herself fall completely to one side and lies there like a dying woman, Tanja lifts her head and places it in her lap. “You can do it Naraamäuschen. You can do it. We’ll ride through Mongolia with you and your child. Hang in there. Bilgee will bring you a strong drink of firewater. It’ll heat you up. You can do it. Hang in there, my little mouse,” she whispers into her horse’s ear and kisses it on the nostrils. Naraa looks at her with her big saucer eyes. “I can do it,” she seems to puff, bringing her body into a sitting position.

I feel the foal’s belly to find out whether it is still moving or whether it has been damaged by the fall. Nothing is happening. Then I discover Naraa’s bleeding cervix. “Did you see that?” I ask Tanja. “What is it?” “She’s bleeding,” I say and point to the spot. Tanja answers with a meaningful silence. In order not to make the situation any worse than it already is, I also keep quiet. Then Bilgee comes riding in with the vodka. He immediately opens the bottle, pours a small sip into the cap and makes his first offering to the gods of nature. Then he drinks a capful and hands it back to me, whereupon I also sacrifice to the gods and drink the rest. Tanja does the same. Now Tanja and Bilgee are holding Naraa’s head. Bilgee takes the bottle and puts it in one of the nostrils. I am amazed to see how a large part of the contents of the bottle disappears into the horse’s head. “Can horses drink through their noses?” I ask. “If they’re very thirsty, yes. At least that’s what I’ve been told,” answers Tanja as Bilgee pulls the bottle out of her nostril again and checks the contents, only to put it back in again. He empties a total of three quarters of the half-liter bottle into the horse. “Now she should rest for half an hour,” recommends Bilgee. Naraa’s trembling becomes less. In fact, the vodka seems to calm her down. Now Ultsan comes riding back on his reindeer. He sits down next to Bilgee in the snow. He hands him the bottle of vodka without comment. Ultsan puts it to his mouth, takes a big gulp and hands it back to Bilgee. Bilgee also puts it to his lip and empties the rest in a few gulps. The men probably need to fortify themselves too. Must be some kind of Mongolian collective thinking.

After 20 minutes we try to help Naraa to his feet. Without success. “I’ll get reinforcements,” says Ultsan, mounting his stag again and trotting off. While we wait, Tanja, Bilgee and I pluck dry grass from the clearing with our hands. As it is hidden under the snow, it is a complex matter. We now hand Naraa tufts of grass, which she eats hungrily, much to our relief.

Less than 20 minutes pass as six men, Tsaya and at least eight dogs come running across the clearing. “Super! Thank you so much for coming,” says Tanja. “Neg! Hoyor! Guraw! Hubaaa!” the men shout and lift Naraa up so that her legs dangle in the air for a moment. Then they slowly set them down. Her front feet immediately buckle again. The men hold them. Others massage their legs. The feeling of her stiff limbs seems to be slowly returning. She sways back and forth. “She’s probably drunk,” says Tsaya. “Probably,” I agree with her, laughing with relief. She takes her first steps under Tanja and Bilgee’s supervision. “She’ll make it!” I shout delightedly. The men laugh. Everyone lights a cigarette and watches our horse for a while. Then, when it looks like she can stand on her own two feet again, they leave us and walk back to camp. “Thank you very much!” Tanja and I call after them. “Dsügeer! Dsügeer!” (“Please! Please!”) they reply again, laughing.

We watch Naraa for a while as she searches for grass under the snow and eats as if nothing had happened. “How are we supposed to get her to the spring camp now? She’s far too weak, isn’t she?” asks Tanja. “Two days rest and then she’ll be fit again and can reach the camp,” Bilgee reassures her. When will she have her baby?” she wants to know. “Mid-May,” he replies. As today is only April 25, we still have time. “But she mustn’t carry any luggage,” she admonishes him. “No, no, we won’t load her up,” Bilgee laughs, visibly relieved to have saved Naraa and hopefully the foal’s life. “You did a good job Bilgee,” I praise him, whereupon he laughs again and tells the story of how he searched for Naraa and found her in the ditch for at least the fifth time.

“I’ll go back to camp and light us a warming fire,” I suggest. “Yes, go on ahead. I’ll stay a while longer,” Tanja replies, barely taking her eyes off her horse.

In the afternoon, Tsaya and Ultsan visit us in the tipi. “How was your trip to Tsagaan Nuur?” they ask Tanja, to which she replies in short words. After a few minutes of silence, Tsaya says, “We’ll try to make just one trip to the spring camp. Can you take the stove and the tent with you?” “We have one very weak and one pregnant horse. We can’t possibly load any more equipment onto the remaining horses. We’ll be happy to take our belongings to the spring camp twice,” Tanja replies. “Well then, we’ll have to make two trips,” says Ultsan curtly, turns around and leaves the tipi with Tsaya. Tanja and I look at each other in amazement. Just a few weeks ago, they assured us that they would help us move. In return, we promised them our fantastic stove, which every Tuwa here would like to own. They also get the stove shelter, Mogi’s doghouse and the chainsaw. “I hope you haven’t forgotten that you have already received a Russian saw blade, a tension regulator, thermal pants, glasses and small items such as a lamp holder, etc. from us. All in all a value of 622.000 Tugrik (378,- €). They need the linen and the stove for the replacement tipi for their tourists who visit the summer camp. Even if we live in the tipi for a few weeks, they need it for themselves. So it’s not a big deal if they let us live in it for a few weeks. They know our horses are weak,” wonders Tanja. “They just tried. According to the motto, if you don’t ask, you don’t get. I don’t think we should take it personally,” I try to put our mutual minds at ease.

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