A personal quest through the Kazakh hunting tradition: seven kinds of game — from doves to the elusive mountain snowcock — where it all began.
Before there was Africa, there was the steppe. In our family hunting was passed down from generation to generation. “Zhetisu Zhetisi” is the challenge of taking seven kinds of game of one's home region in a single season. For a long time I held back: it seemed hunting since childhood was simply part of life, not something to prove. But this year I set a goal and saw it through.
Doves opened the count — my father and I sought the big wood pigeons far from the village, in the tall elms, just as in childhood. Then came the ducks: there are plenty on the banks of the Talas, where my father has gone for nearly thirty years.
The quail was the hardest. For that little bird I walked dozens of kilometres on foot, pricked my knees on thorns, missed three times. And then, just as I was thinking of travelling to another region for it, a quail burst up from under my feet — a shot almost on reflex, and the dog quickly found the quarry. There's a saying: take the quail, and 90% of the work is done.
Next was the chukar partridge. My father stayed home — “I don't want to clamber about the mountains” — so I set off alone. The wary birds kept flushing out of range; I had to chase them across the slopes, and only at the pass did I manage to take one. That day I came home with a single chukar — but content.
«Before there was Africa, there was the steppe.»
The pheasant opened late, and the dog and I sought it in thorny thickets. My younger brother took the first; I wished for one just like it — and at once an even bigger cock rose from underfoot. Later we gathered with the ohotniki.kz lads for a group outing near Uzynagash: frosty, few tracks, but no one went home empty-handed.
The last and most honoured bird was the snowcock, a dweller of the high mountains. “Have you been to Ulytau — have you eaten snowcock?” they say, and not for nothing. Eight hours in the saddle, crossings of fast mountain rivers, passes, a night spent on the summit. In the morning, hearing its distinctive call, I climbed to the ridge, hobbled the horse, and saw through the binoculars that the birds were walking towards me. All that was left was to wait and quietly close the nomination.
The Kazakh land is rich in game, and most of it is real, productive hunting. Saiatshylyk teaches the main thing: respect for the animal, the bird, nature. We bring the same principle to Africa — fair hunting, by the rules, with gratitude for every trophy.