“I killed one the other day,” Zhang said, “but it wasn’t as big and meaty as this one. We horse herders had two meals of horsemeat buns. Foal meat is tender and fragrant, but the herders eat it in the summer only when that’s all there is. After thousands of years, foal has become a grassland delicacy.” After washing his hands again, Zhang sat down on the shaft of a water wagon to watch Chen skin the horse.
Chen was happy to see all the tender meat under the foal’s skin. It was a good-sized animal, nearly as big as an adult sheep. “After a month, I’ve almost forgotten what meat tastes like,” he said. “Actually, I’m doing fine without it. It’s the cub that concerns me. Without meat, it’s more like a sheep, and I’m afraid one day he’ll bleat like a lamb.”
“This was the first foal born this year, and both its parents are big. If you like the meat, I’ll bring you another one in a few days. Summer is the season of death for horses. The mares are foaling, and the wolves love to go after the babies. Every few days, a herd will lose one or two foals to the wolves, and there’s nothing we can do to stop them. Mares add a hundred and fifty foals to each herd. The grass is good and the mares have plenty of milk, so the foals grow fast. They run around a lot, so the stud horses and mares can’t look after them all the time.”
Using an axe, Chen removed the wolf-bitten areas on the foal’s head, chest, and neck, and chopped them into small pieces. The six dogs had surrounded Chen and the foal, five tails wagging like reeds in an autumn wind. Erlang was the only exception-his tail stood out straight as a bayonet as he watched Chen, waiting to see how he’d divide up the meat. The cub, which hadn’t tasted fresh meat in many days, was running around anxiously, making doglike noises.
The meat and bones were divided into the usual three big portions and three little ones. Chen gave half of the head and half of the neck to Erlang, who wagged his tail and took his share over to enjoy in the shade under an oxcart. Yellow, Yir, and the three puppies all got their portions and ran into shady areas or over next to the yurt. Chen waited for the dogs to leave before cutting the select chest meat and bones into small pieces and filling the cub’s bowl half full. Then he poured the remaining blood from the foal’s chest over the bones, before walking up to the cub and shouting, “Little Wolf, Little Wolf, time to eat.”
The skin on the cub’s neck had grown thick and tough. When he saw the fresh bloody meat, he strained so much against the chain he looked like an ox pulling a wagon up a hill; he was drooling. Chen rushed the bowl over and placed it in front of the cub, who pounced on the meat as if tearing the flesh of a live horse; he snarled at Chen to chase him away. Chen went back to work on the foal’s hide, continuing to scrape the bones and slice up the flesh meat as he watched the cub out of the corner of his eye. The young wolf was gobbling up the meat frantically, but he kept a wary eye on the humans and the dogs. His body bent like a bow, he was prepared to drag the fresh meat over to his dugout if necessary.
“Can’t you horse herders do anything about the wolves?”
“I’ve been a herdsman for nearly two years, and I think the weakest link in herding on the grassland is the horses. Each herd has four or five hundred horses, but only two herders. That’s just not enough, even with the addition of a student for each herd. Two or three people take turns and work in shifts, meaning there’s only one watching the herd at any given time. It’s an impossible situation.”
“Why don’t they assign more to each herd?”
“Horse herders are the aviators of the grassland. It takes a long time to train one. No one would let an unqualified herder out there with the horses; a guy could lose half his herd in a year. It’s a tough, exhausting, high-risk job. When a white-hair blizzard strikes, the temperature can be thirty or forty degrees below zero and it can take all night to round up the horses. You can lose your toes to frostbite if you’re not careful. In the summer, the mosquitoes can suck your and your horses’ blood dry. Lots of horse herders quit after eight or ten years; they either do some other kind of work or stop working altogether because of injury. Of the four student herders who started out two years ago, I’m the only one still at it. There just aren’t enough to go around.”
“Why would a herd of horses run off, as if asking to be killed?”
“Many reasons. First of all, it’s so cold in the winter that they run to keep warm. Then in the spring, they need to sweat in order to molt, so they run. They run against the wind in the summer to escape the mosquitoes, then they fight the cows and sheep over good grazing land in the autumn, so they need to sneak away. But mainly they run to get away from wolves. All year round they’re running for their lives. Dogs won’t stay with a horse herd because it moves too much and too often. So a herder has to watch over a bunch of cowardly horses without the help of dogs. How’s he supposed to do that? On moonless nights, wolves often come out to prey on horses. If there aren’t too many of them, the herder and his stud horses can keep them at bay. But if it’s a big pack, the herd is startled into flight, like a defeated army on the run. At times like that there’s nothing the herder or stud horses can do.
“Now I know why Genghis Khan’s cavalry could travel so fast,” he continued. “His horses were forced by wolves to run night after night, building up speed and stamina for long distances. I often witness the relentless, tragic struggle for survival between horses and wolves. The wolves attack at night, ruthlessly, and they never let up, not giving the horses a chance to rest. Once they lag behind, the old, sick, slow, and small horses, as well as the foals and the pregnant mares are surrounded and eaten alive. You’ve never seen the sad sight of horses running for their lives. They run and run, foaming at the mouth, drenched in sweat. Some use up all their strength to escape; they die as soon as they stop and lie down. They’re literally run to death. The fastest ones can take a break and gobble up some grass when they get a chance. They’re so hungry they’d eat anything, even dry reeds, and so thirsty they’d drink anything, whether it’s foul water or water mixed with cow or sheep urine. The Mongol horses rank number one in strength, stamina, digestion, immune system, and the ability to withstand cold and heat. But only the horse herders know that all these qualities were forcefully developed by the wolves’ speed and fangs.”
Captivated by Zhang’s description, Chen took the foal meat and the bones inside and then came back out and spread the skin over the top of the yurt. “After more than a year as a horse herder,” he said, “you’re an expert. I want to hear more. It’s hot out here. Let’s go inside. You talk while I make the fillings and wrappings.”
Back inside the yurt, Chen chopped green onions, made the dough, minced the meat, and heated pepper oil for the meaty buns that were so popular among the herders.
Zhang drank some cool tea and continued: “I think about horses all the time. In my view, it was wolves that nurtured the endurance and toughness of Mongol horses, which in turn created a cavalry for the Huns, Turks, and Mongols.”
“According to history books,” Chen said, “there were more horses than people on the ancient Mongolian grassland. When the Mongols went to war, riders would take five or six horses to ride in turns, which was how they could travel a thousand li a day. They were a primitive motorized army, specializing in blitzkriegs. They had so many horses that they could turn injured ones into food for the soldiers. They ate horsemeat and drank horse blood, saving the trouble of having to supply troops.”