By Tj Guercio of Colby College and Gitanjali Matthes of Carleton College
Round River’s camera trapping project provides unique, systematically collected data on mammal populations in the park’s protected area, but our camera trap project faced some unprecedented challenges on this program. Because of the pandemic-caused pause in the Mongolia program, we were collecting cameras set three years ago instead of one year ago, leaving them vulnerable to freezing winter temperatures, filled-up camera cards, and theft by poachers for much longer than they should have been. After spending many long days studying pika on the steppe, our whole group was excited for our camera trap days — a series of hikes into the Horidol-Saridag mountains to collect over a dozen game cameras set up by the previous programs.
We saw the impact of these challenges on our first day of camera trap retrieval; after hiking 16 miles between the GPS points for five different cameras, we only recovered two, one of which was thoroughly chewed up by a friendly neighborhood squirrel. That said, it was a special hike, and not only because we saw an elk within the first kilometer — Nyam Ochir led us by horseback to a high pass in Huzuuch mountain, which was incredibly scenic even in the steady drizzle. We got to see some beautiful ringed lichen and add stones to the ovoo he’s been building. Group morale dropped a bit on the chilly and wet hike down, but we warmed up back at camp with the dinner Aamka had ready for us and a blazing fire in the ger.
The next day, we took a break from fieldwork to go to town for Naadam, the traditional summer festival where locals compete in archery, horseback racing, and wrestling. The locals — especially the kids — were excited to meet and take pictures with us, and Chris and TJ even entered the wrestling competition. They were at a disadvantage in size, experience, and general stylishness, and neither lasted more than 30 seconds, but they definitely earned some clout for trying. Chinbolt, one of our legendary Furgon drivers, invited us to his house for lunch, and TJ and Chris were put to the test once again — this time to see just how many of the huushuur they could eat out of the countless number served to us by Chinbolt’s family. We went back to the festival to watch one of the horse races finish and stopped by the archery competition to see men and women competing in long-distance accuracy using traditional horn bows.
Before returning to camera traps, we had one more “rest” day — except this time, we started the day with a species identification quiz and a lecture. We were rewarded for our patience, though, because for lunch, we got to learn how to make huushuur with Aamka. She provided some delicious vegetarian and apple cinnamon fillings, and we went a little crazy with some creative fillings of our own — cheese and chili powder were a hit; peanut butter, cheese, and Nutella were not.
Camera trap work is exhausting, so only a few of us were ready for the next field day. Gita, Caton, Chris, and I began hiking at 9 am. We went to five game cameras, replacing batteries and data cards and repositioning cameras. We walked up the Mongash River and saw wolf tracks and a musk deer leaping away from us. We ascended dry rock gullies and pillowy moss forest floors. The scenery was beautiful, and we were lucky to have decent weather. The flies were atrocious — each had a swarm swirling around our heads like a cloud. Most of the flies were harmless; others were bloodthirsty. On one of the few roads on our route, we saw a family of boar dart in front of us. They were incredible. We also saw a Eurasian Woodcock and an active bear den. Some of the descents were steep and treacherous. When we returned to basecamp at 9 pm, we had walked 43,000 steps and over 20 miles.
It rained all night. When we woke in the morning, we packed and started heading north to Har Ost — a new region where we had to check camera traps. But every ride in the Furgon is an adventure, and we ended up stuck in the mud on the way to camp. Fortunately, Chinbolt is an experienced driver and was able to pull the Furgon out with his Land Cruiser, and we made it to camp. After setting up camp and eating lunch, we started on a hike to recover the next set of cameras. We passed by fields of onion, heard a pika, and spotted a Siberian Rubythroat. Sometimes finding the cameras is hard, and we had some navigation issues as we bushwhacked through some unbelievably dense caragana and willow thickets. Eventually, we recovered all of the cameras and returned to camp, seeing a capercaillie — the world’s largest grouse in the world — on the way. Sitting around the campfire at night, we joked with the local drivers and Nyam Ochir about our incompetent but well-meaning Mongolian phrases. They prepared some dried meat and noodle soup, and ranger’s tea for us, which was made with green tea, yak butter, and Darhad mineral salts.
The next day it rained all morning, so we drove back to basecamp. We went on a Grinnell hike and saw a cool woodpecker. We flipped through camera trap photos, which I found fascinating. We swipe through thousands of photos, and a few have fantastic pictures of wolves, bears, and wolverines. Other pictures capture elk and boar at inopportune moments. It is like a window into the wild lives of wildlife. The night finished with a fun birding movie in the ger.
The next day, we just sat and waited. We expected Chinbolt to show up to drive Riley and our instructors to a cormorant colony, but he never came. It turns out that after nine days of Naadam and partying, all three soums in the valley ran completely out of gasoline. Stranded Land Cruisers and Furgons must have dotted the steppe. Instead, we just did some readings and more camera cards. In the evening, we heard wolves howling in the distance.
The day we had been waiting for had arrived. It was time to hike to the infamous Camera 20, our farthest set. We left camp at 7 am with packs loaded with food and headlamps. It was a beautiful day as we ascended the Mongash River Valley, collecting weather data recorders and camera traps. Soon, we were ascending a steep game trail in the remote core area of the park. We climbed a steep talus limestone face to a beautiful plateau for lunch. The panoramic views were incredible, and we still had more climbing to do.
Chris, our instructor, is an avid birder. He keeps a life list of birds and is always excited whenever he sees a cool bird. He studied birds throughout college and has even written a field guide for Mongolian birds. One bird has been eluding him for years. The Altai Snowcock is an endangered grouse that lives above tree lines in remote mountains. Chris said that he would give us extra credit on the final if we saw a snowcock before we did. So, we decided to have a little bit of fun. As we hiked higher into the mountains, Gila played a snowcock call on their phone. Chris perked up and froze, scanning the mountainside. It was hilarious. Chris soon realized there wasn’t really a bird, and we continued. Chris collected Camera 20 as we ascended an extra peak to the very top of Mongash Mountain. We saw a flock of large gray birds fly down the slope. Seconds later, Chris shrieked, “SNOWCOCK!!!” Chris’s lifelong dream has been fulfilled, yet we all saw the birds before he did.
At the summit of the mountain, we saw a majestic lammergeier vulture and the stunning landscape of the protected area and the entire Darhad Valley. We could see all the way to Russia. As we gazed over the landscape, we gave a moment of gratitude to Mongolia and the wilderness where we’ve spent the past month. As we descended the mountain, a young cow elk darted by us on the steep rocky slope, and a ptarmigan protected her young. The way down breezed by, but it was still 10 pm by the time we reached camp after a gnarly 23.3 miles and 50,000 steps.
