by Ella Reilich-Godino of the College of the Atlantic and Gila Goodwin of Colorado College
On June 29th, we piled eight Americans, five Mongolians, and our abundance of gear into two vans and hit the dusty trail to begin our pika research throughout the Darhad Valley. With a daunting eighty-seven pika plots ahead of us, we spent over an hour and a half learning the data collection methods at the first plot; this consisted of measuring and recording the presence of grass height, forb height, scat, lichen, and a variety of plant species known to be common in areas that have experienced overgrazing. Each plot required the collection of 100 data points, each a meter apart in the four cardinal directions. In addition to vegetation data, we took soil samples to analyze pH, nitrogen, phosphorous, and potassium levels.
After a bumpy furgon ride, we arrived at Ranger Battogtokh’s summer camp, which would serve as a central location for our research throughout the next ten days. Battogtokh’s family greeted us with milk tea, freshly baked bread, and aaruul–a preserved snack made of compressed cheese curds. A talented artist, carver, herder, and park ranger, Battogtokh became a valued member of our research team who brought with him an immense knowledge of the land and a lively, goofy energy that infiltrated our work.
That night, we also celebrated Badmaa’s birthday by baking pancake-mix doughnuts with our indispensable cook Aamka, who has supported our long days by consistently cooking delicious meals and providing the occasional treat to uplift our spirits. Battogtokh led our group in a fun drawing lesson before we spent our first night on the steppe with the calls of cows, sheep, and goats outside our tent doors.
After a few days of collecting pika plot data around Battogtokh’s house, we drove to Tsagaanuur, a beautiful lake we called home for the next two nights. Despite the language barrier, we were soon recording our data in Mongolian and expanded our vocabulary to include important words such as grass–uste, forb–olanaste, lichen–haag, goat–yama, horse–muer, cow–uhuer, and most importantly pika—huutchkin!
Although the focus of our study, the most inconsistent aspect of our research was the pika. At many of our plots, the only sign of pikas once inhabiting the area were abandoned burrows and old pika poop that we would repeatedly squish to determine their freshness. Our poop findings could be heard far and wide as we shouted across the plot, “five internal greens, three externals, eight old!” Another familiar call was “huutchkin baachwee (zero),” chanted by both students and Battogtokh.
Our teacher, Chris, fondly known by his Mongolian name “Bob,” is really into playing with poop. After 12+ hour days of research, he spends every night filling in Pika holes with poop and then wakes up at the crack of dawn to count the number of holes opened by pikas. He swears this is an essential part of our research and one of the only ways we can know our methods are accurate. Sometimes students take pity and help. One night, Leah and Ella were plugging holes with poop well past dark because it was just so sad to imagine him out there alone. In reality, we know it’s important research; it’s just sometimes hard to find the motivation to play with more poop after full days of poop squishing and vegetation measuring. Luckily, we have found many ways to lighten the mood, both day and night, including speaking primarily in terrible British accents (ahem Gitanjali), throwing poop at Chris (he started it), and keeping the party vibe going by swapping good tunes. It helps that we all seem to like similar music.
After long days of research and bumpy furgon rides, we spent the evenings in Tsagaanuur around a large bonfire chatting with Battogtokh, the other rangers, and our drivers, Chinbolt and Buuk, about Darhad life, culture, pastoralism, and the Ulaan Taiga Strictly Protected Area. We returned to Battogtokh’s, where we witnessed the butchering of a sheep who would be our sustenance for the following days and provided a strong reminder of the subsistence herding that dominates Darhad culture and lifestyle.
As they say, “ain’t no rest for the wicked” (especially not Chris). We started the next day with a 6:30 am breakfast and a 20 km drive to the “bustling city” of Renchinlhumbe, a small town nestled below the Horidol Saridag mountains, home to Aamka, and our resting spot for the evening. Along the journey, we measured 12 pika plots, so of course, it took all day. The monotonous work was lightened by the laughs and humor of our Mongolian partners, Zaya, Battogtokh, Buuk, Chinbolt, and professor Badmaa. Of course, we can’t be entirely sure because we don’t speak Mongolian, but it seemed like they were always joking around no matter how long the day. They also have an incredible ability to sleep in the Furgon and Mitsubishi, our two adventure mobiles, a highly desirable skill that several members of our group have also acquired.
In the evening, we ate dinner, primarily consisting of meat from the sheep Battogtokh had butchered. Some students were a little disturbed by the sheep’s head that was included in the bowl of meat, but at the same time, we were able to deeply appreciate the connection to food and the way the sheep provided for us. In addition to his many other skills, it turns out that Battogtokh is also a poet, and we were graced with him reading some funny poems about Chris, Badmaa, and Zaya.
The next day we traveled back to Battogtokh’s for our final night together. He gifted us some of his artwork, and a few of us also bought some of his wood carvings. In the morning, we had another chance to push our comfort zones when we were served testicle soup, fresh from the morning’s castration. Three of the seven students were brave enough to try it and said it was delicious, “just like eggs!” Some students had been hoping to watch or even help with the castration, but we missed the event because we were all asleep. It’s quite impressive that the rangers have been working just as hard, probably harder than us, and they still wake up early and attend to extra tasks, like castrating goats or helping Badmaa and Chris prepare for the day.
We have all gained tremendous respect for how the Mongolian people we have met approach life: their care for the earth, unmatched kindness and hospitality, humor, and just good vibes. It is amazing the connections we have been able to form despite the language barrier, as the only things we can say are hello, thank you, and the otherwise useless terms we have learned for the pika data. Our accents and pronunciation are the sources of a good many laughs. In all seriousness, several of us really do want to work on our Mongolian, so we can get to know our new friends even better. Speaking of, a shoutout to Badmaa is well warranted for constantly translating and being the bridge between cultures. (Of course, we do have to blindly trust that she speaks the truth, but she seems trustworthy enough to me.)
Although it was sad to leave the countryside, especially Battogtokh, it is very exciting to return to basecamp and attend to things like laundry, sleep, and of course, academics. There really isn’t any rest for us, gee whiz! It is rewarding and certainly makes the hard work worth knowing that our efforts genuinely help the park and that it is on projects that the rangers and locals have deemed important. We are not just coming in with our ideas of what to study but rather are working on projects important to the locals and helping provide resources to conduct research. The fact we all like each other (so far) is another big bonus; we are currently having our second slumber party movie night in the Ger because apparently, spending all day together studying was not nearly enough time.