I woke up at 6am on Friday morning, the sun streaming through the top of the ger, with a fresh perspective on the day. Little did we know that wrapped in the bundle with our host on the floor was a 1-year-old baby; at least I think he was 1 as our host nodded when we showed 1 finger. He tried desperately to clamber over his mum to have a look at the weird person sleeping in his bed. Eventually he managed to crawl over to me and stopped about a meter away just looking at me trying to work me out.
I went outside to see where we were, in relation to the house the others stayed in, and took in the breath-taking scenery. The countryside of Mongolia is truly a tranquil place with an enteral sense of peace.
We were escorted to our house for breakfast by the dogs two playful dogs. The older dog was good natured and trotted along beside us as the younger dog proceeded to bound around us and him; trying to bite his ears, legs and tail as all young puppies do.
At 8.30am we went back to the trainers ger where we tried yet another new milk product (cows) for breakfast. This time it was a cross between butter and clotted cream on bread. As a lover of both cream and butter it's no wonder I liked it. We took the opportunity to explain our plan for taking the samples before we were surrounded by what was sure to be organised chaos and horses.
DNA is found in the hook and white root at the tip of the hair. It is very easy to break the hair without pulling out the root. It is CRUCIAL that the handlers pull the hair out correctly and we get 20-30 hair tips otherwise when I get back to the lab I won’t have any DNA to analyse!
Uyasakh was brilliant at translating our plan across to his father and the huge team of people that had turned out to help us. The handlers would lasso and halter the horse then Henry would hand over a sticker with a number on it. As there are no passports or names this essential for both us and the trainers to identify the horses. Emmeline would then take a photo and the handler would pull the hair out with his hands; the combs were quick discarded. Henry would then take the hair back to Carol who would put it in an envelope, seal it, and number it with the same number that was stuck on the horse. My job was to work with Uyasakh to translate and collect all the racing records, which are in the trainers’ head, and physical characteristics of the horses.
The horses had been brought in that morning for food and water. They cannot get enough on the steppe themselves, so this prevents them from becoming feral. The barns could segregate and hold two harems or 'families' at a time. Each top stallion has their own family of mares. We would sample one corral of horses whilst a team of young jockeys would fill the other with horses off the steppe. The horsemanship skills on display were incredible; they expertly manipulated their body language to calm even the most skittish of horses and foals.
After a wobbly start in translation we were well away getting through horses at an astounding rate. My translation job was, rather surprisingly, the slowest part of the process. I assumed that catching the horses would take more time as the unridden horses and mares (which do not race) are hardly ever handled.
First up was their most successful champion race horse. In two hours, we were flying along having sampled 30 horses. The dry warm weather was perfect for sampling. The stickers suck to the horses and dry hairs are less likely to get contaminated than wet ones.
By lunch time we had managed to sample 44 horses which was incredible. I had been expecting something in the region of 30-40 horses over the whole 2 days we were in Khentii.
Once we had finished with a family the horses would be released back to the steppe; spending the rest of the day wondering up to the top of the mountain. The operation was so slick it would put many yards in England to shame. It was a delight to watch as the handlers moved the horses around. The horses that were released from the corral would canter into the open and then settle in small clusters content to graze with other families around them. Equally as enchanting was watching the horses being herded into the corral as the handlers expertly guided the horses through a small gate in the middle of an open plane, with no boundaries to help them.
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