The long Mongol steppe concludes at the frontier with the far western province of Bayan-Olgii. The land is vast and the winters vaster. Killing droughts come with the ghang jud, where summer sunshine scorches grasslands, and the qara jud, a snowless winter in a waterless desert. Torrential rains bring floods. The caghan jud is a blizzard of starvation and the tugharai-yin jud brings another kind of hunger: too many cattle or horses, thousands of hooves ripping apart the land; too many sheep or goats, devouring every last grass. Winter plunges the mercury to minus 35 or minus 40—the killing temperatures. Whole herds vanish overnight, and with them the livelihoods of whole families.

The birkitshi make their own clothes and horse tack out of skins and furs.

A birkitshi tends his animals outside a ger set up for nomadic excursions.

A rabbit that fell prey to an eagle's talons lies outside a ger where the birkitshi who owns the eagle will make a meal of it.The birkitshi hunt smaller game, mostly. A typical year's harvest would be, say, 20 fox, 30 rabbit…a handful of buck-toothed marmots. They sell enough to eke a bit of joy and prosperity out of a mean and lovely land. It is never easy.

The birkitshi set off together in a wild gallop on route to the site of the year's annual eagle festival.

Judges at the annual eagle festival study every movement and action of the eagle, horse, rider and the dynamics, communication and cooperation between them.

A birkitshi can run a horse at a full gallop, the eagle balancing on its baldahk.

The eagle festival is a tourist event that revives and validates a disappearing culture. This year, Khuangol’s eagle Balapan caught the wolf in a show hunt for tourists. It was a sorry looking wolf, doomed to be attacked again and again as each eagle hunter and eagle take their shot at proving their prowess and skills.

Birkitshi share a strong comraderie, the keepers of the wild cultural flame of their long 4000 year-old tradition of eagle hunting.

Riders often wear an elegant del, the knee-length Mongolian national gown bound at the waist by a brightly colored sash, and horse and rider have all the standard nomad accoutrements, plus some eagle extras. Bridle, reins, stirrups, saddle. There is a horsewhip made of wood and leather. A hood that covers the eagle’s eyes. An animal carcass—dried dead rabbit—pulled behind the horse to retrieve the eagle. A coiled up lasso, handmade, rawhide, hangs from the saddle.

A kazahk woman—females are rare amongst the birkitshi, as the documentary film "The Eagle Huntress" makes clear—displays her bird of prey, a falcon.

A hunter launches his eagle from atop a mountain in the Altai.

Eagle and it's owner have a tight, lasting relationship and a special bond.

Tourists and locals alike are advised to shed any clothing or other adornments that display red or orange colors, because the eagles are drawn to these, linking the color with prey and blood. Here, a young girl watching the eagle festival fell prey to one of the eagles—strong enough to topple the girl off her feet.

Khuangol's eagle Balapan waits quietly, blinded by the leather eye-peices used to keep these wild creatures calm.

“My arm gets very tired holding eagle,” Khuangol admits, “even with baldahk.” His baldahk crutch is crafted from the antlers of the endangered Ibex goat of the Altai range. Draped over the horse, Pony Express style, are leather saddlebags. Slung over these is the furry carcass of a wild cat caught by Balapan when Khuangol flew her in the mountains. It’s an Asiatic lynx, lacerated at the neck, dripping blood.

Marmot are one of the typical smaller species of prey the birkitshi hunt with their eagles. A young woman skins a marmot in the family's ger (yurt), temporary shelter during nomadic forays into the mountains. As the sun sets, I am invited to sleep on the floor of the ger. Dinner is boiled marmot. Served cold. You spot these empty eye sockets and buck-teeth looking back at you from the aluminum pot. Best damn marmot you ever 'et.

A wild corsac fox, otherwise called a "corsac", is a medium-sized fox hunted by the birkitshi. It is found in steppes, semi-deserts and deserts in Central Asia, ranging into Mongolia and northeastern China.

Khuangol's eagle Balapan is impatient, launching itself off its perch in anticipation of regaining its freedom. The birds are loyal to the birkitshi, trained from a young age to return home. Sometimes, though, they fly off and are never seen again.

Khuangol tends his animals outside his home, his goats and sheep in the distance, his eagles moored inside the compound where they must be kept safe from four-legged predators prowling at night.

The birkitshi have few possessions. Rifles are used to supplement the hunting, and also to protect the eagles and livestock from the large predators of the Altai, such as the snow leopard and wolf. The birkitshi are rich in culture and tradition, but they are also land poor—they may have land, but they have little cash.

“We believe that eagle is the strongest and most holy animal in the world,” Khuangol says. He loves his eagles. He says his horse will sense bad energy long before he does. “Horse will feel it first. But when I am with eagle, I feel myself very strong and I don’t believe bad things will happen. When eagle is present in a place, all other spirits are driven away.”

A young eagle hunter looks out over the mountains, calculating the best site to partake of the hunt.