Back at the (Mongolian) ranch...

What do you think of when you think of Mongolia? I think of brown skinned, wind shaped faces of Mongolian men, sitting proudly on top of a galloping horse, riding through beautiful mountain landscapes dotted with yurts.
Mongolians are expert horsemen. Don't ever challenge a Mongolian to a horse riding contest. Because you'll lose. They begin riding at the age of 4. I'm told sometimes even at the tender age of 2. Their riding skill are phenomenal. They hop off and on their horses and trot along like they've been doing it their entire life. Errr, never mind, I guess they have. Once, I watched open-mouthed as a horse attempted to buck off his rider, arching his back and jumping wildly in the air, just like the picture on the Wyoming license plate. I've never seen this before. The rider held on tightly until this horse was over her PMS and then trotted off nonchalantly. I was impressed. If that was me, I would have undoubtedly ended up with a broken arm.They passionately care for their horses, as they would care for their children. The amount of time they spend on a horse is apparent in the bowed cowboy legs of some locals.

me and Johannes

They are also expert shepherds. Likewise, they can also frequently be seen herding a large group of goats, yaks, camels and horses with ease. They are like smooth cowboys. Mongolia reminds me a lot of Wyoming. Of the wild, wild west. Wild and free. But the Mongolians don't look like the skinny cowboys from Wyoming. To me, they look like a mix between the Chinese and the Eskimos of Alaska with their full cheeks. I saw many extremely beautiful Mongolian women and handsome men. 

Some of the villages looked very similar to the small villages of Alaska. The locals here are very poor. I would rather be a nomad if I lived in Mongolia. But even the nomads have hard times. In the winter, temperatures can drop as low as -40 F, causing their livestock to freeze or starve to death. In turn, these extreme temperatures force the nomadic Mongolians out of their peaceful country life. They must move to the capital of Ulan Bator. Here, unemployment rates are high, which causes UB to be a little dangerous. Pick pocketing is ever present. It's a sad situation. From the locals, I'm told the ghettos of Ulan Bator are very dangerous.
The country side is relatively safe. The greatest threat is probably the drunks. In some small villages, I saw the occasional drunk staggering man. At one village, I was entertained by a drunk man as he fell on his face every 2 feet, tripping over his robe and drooling down his chin. A 2 liter bottle of beer costs $1. Vodka is also readily available and cheap due to the close proximity to Russia.

one of the villages

I can't imagine the heartache of losing all my farm animals. At one of the gers we stayed in, the man told me he owned 10 horses, 30 yaks, 50 goats and 60 sheep. Plus dogs and cows. What a huge responsibility. He needs the help of his wife, children and a few other men to keep up with the demands of caring for his animals. I watched in amazement as they tended to them. It warmed my heart to see how passionate they were about their work. They treated all the animals with kindness. I saw several baby goats newly born at a few of the gers we stayed in. One man handed me a goat that was born just minutes prior, still wet from birth. His mom was licking the fur and still had the afterbirth hanging from her. I put the baby goat down and watched as he wobbled on his skinny legs to his mother's milk, nudging his head forcefully into her belly. It was like a goat maternity ward. The proud new moms strutted around with their babies close by. 

A women came out of the yurt with a plastic container and squeezed methodically on the goat's teats. White liquid squirted out, dripping messily over her dirty hands into the plastic container. She would use this unpasteurized milk to make many different things, including the salty tea she offered us. Personally, I'm not a fan of this tea. It's milky and it's salty. Ewww. Each time we entered a family's ger, we were handed a small bowl filled with this tea. I would smile pleasantly and pretend to take a sip, then when they weren't looking, I'd make Johannes drink it. He couldn't get enough of the stuff.
Some nights were downright freezing cold. I felt sorry for the animals as they tried to huddle together for warmth. From the look on their faces, they weren't having much fun. Actually, they looked miserable. I wanted to give them all a big bear hug to keep them warm. I knew the temp in April was much more comfortable than the temps in January, although it already felt unlivable. The cold didn't seem to bother the Mongolians, they continued to work like bees around the ranch.

working hard in frigid temps

giving shots to baby goats

As we sat in the comfort of the warm ger, we heard the wind whip fiercely outside. My mind was blown when I saw that the entire family was working without gloves. My hands were frozen within minutes, and I was wearing gloves! These people are hardcore, I'm telling you.

hardcore dude

The farm seemed to be continuously active. At night, we heard the barking from the many watch dogs reverberating off the mountains that surrounded the ranch, warding off the wolves that trolled the area. There was also the continuous crying from the baby goats, bah-ing from sheep and neighing of horses filling the nighttime air, making ear plugs a necessity.

The baby goats were kept in cardboard boxes inside the gers. They were so cute! The families were always eager to push a baby goat into my arms. I oohed and awed over them as they sucked on my fingers. Their umbilical cords were still attached and wet on their bellies. Some were wearing little jackets. They cuddled up closely to each other and each one had it's own distinct cry. It was so sweet to see the Mongolians caring so passionately for their animals. They've had years of experience in this ranching business, and it definitely shows.