This unique culture of eagle hunting, which exists primarily in the western part of Mongolia, is primarily practiced by Kazakhs. In the past, these people migrated freely across the borders of Kazakhstan, Russia, and Mongolia for centuries until the fall of communism led to the closing of all borders, trapping a small minority group within modern Mongolia. One of the most remarkable aspects of this particular community of eagle hunters is the unrivaled preservation of their culture.

‍

Through my research, I learned that due to Mongolia’s vast and wild steppes, the eagle hunters in western Mongolia have been able to preserve their tradition with minimal touristic or governmental influence — unlike in Kazakhstan or Russia. One could argue that the eagle hunters living in Mongolia today are among the last people on earth who still truly deserve the title “Eagle Hunters.” For them, this is not merely a title — its a way of life.

‍

Once I arrived, I was determined to find unique eagle hunters and learning about their lifestyles. I hired a local driver and a fixer who could take me deep into the mountains, away from any hint of touristic attractions. Once we found a welcoming family to stay with, I made sure to spend my time with them learning their names, photographing their way of life, and gaining a deeper understanding of their world. 

‍

When the time came, I had the privilege of following the father of the family deep into the mountains with his eagle, observing and photographing his every move as he ventured into the wilds to hunt. However, something unexpected happened. On our way back from what I thought was a successful shoot and anthropological experience - I knew something was missing.

‍

‍

As I was going through the images I had taken that, I noticed that most of them were merely reflections of other photos I had seen before online, distinguished only by small differences of background and lighting. As a photographer, this wasn’t what I wanted for my work to be. I knew I had to dig deeper and find a way to tell a story that hadn’t yet been told from this part of the world. My challenge as a storyteller was to find something beyond simply saying “Even today, there are eagle hunters in Mongolia”.

‍

In my attempt to find a new creative path, I recalled some of the research I did before setting out on this journey. I remembered that one of the biggest challenges people face today is defining what Mongolia means in our modern world. Even today, when talking about Mongolia, most people immediately reach back in history to the days of Chinggis Khaan, the Manchurian Empire, or even the communist regime. But when dealing particularly with modern Mongolia — a relatively ‘young’ country that regained its independence after the fall of communism in 1990 — most people hardly know anything about it.

‍

I decided to use this understanding as a guideline. I gave up the idea of chasing epic images of experienced eagle hunters of old and instead focused on visuals that could represent the future of this ancient tradition in our world. I wanted to photograph the future generation who hold the tradition’s future in their hands.

‍

‍

We started searching far and wide, driving across magnificent valleys and mountains, looking for the first ‘Successors’ of our story. Eventually, we arrived in an area called ‘Chaulting,’ a mountain range near the Russian border. It is, by far, one of the most beautiful places I’ve seen in all my travels to Mongolia. This is where we met 13-year-old Irka Bolen and his family, who became the first eagle-hunting successor I photographed.

‍

‍

According to eagle hunting traditions, when a boy turns 13 and is strong enough to carry the weight of a grown eagle, his father begins training him in the ancient hunting technique. Many elders say there are a thousand ways of practicing eagle hunting and that each family has shaped its own special technique as an art form. Irka was the perfect beginning for my project because he wasn’t a hunter—he was a student. During our time together, I witnessed the first steps of a young boy embarking on the quest to learn the ways of his ancestors and their traditions from his father. 

‍

‍

After spending a few days with Irka’s family and learning more about what it takes to become an eagle hunter, I learned that, according to tradition, it takes about five years to complete the training stage. Afterward, the young successor must prove himself worthy by successfully catching, training, and hunting with his own golden eagle - only then will he receive the title of “Eagle Hunter.” 

‍

With that idea in mind, I decided it was time to move on and look for another dimension to the story for this project. I began searching for the youngest eagle hunter in the region — the first of his generation.

‍

We decided to head south, traveling to an area called Hen-Gohadok. This is where I met young Bahak Birgen — an unusual eagle  hunter. His journey into eagle hunting began earlier than most of his peers as, at the age of 8, his father decided he was strong enough to begin his training. This unorthodox decision led Bahak Birgen to complete his training and hunting challenge at an exceptionally young age, making 14-year-old Bahak Birgen the well-known “Young Eagle Hunter” of his region.

‍

‍

It was a spectacular sight to see the connection between Bahak Birgen and his golden eagle. Kazakhs usually prefer to capture their eagles when they are only a few months old, raising them into adulthood themselves. Acting as the guardians of their eagles, the hunters feed them, provide warmth during cold winter nights, and encourage their natural hunting instincts through dedicated training.

‍

However, this relationship was never meant to last. Depending on each family’s traditional practice, around 5 to 8 years after a hunter captures an eagle, he must return it to nature. This ritual happens during spring, when golden eagles begin their mating season. The hunter will carry his eagle deep into the mountains, lay down a butchered sheep on a cliff, and release the eagle for the last time. The butchered sheep is a farewell present, thanking the eagle for its years of service and sustaining it as it returns to the wild. This is how, over thousands of years, eagle hunters have ensured their tradition exists in balance with nature. By allowing their eagles to return to the wild and have their own young, they ensure the survival of future generations of both man and animal.

‍

‍

After photographing both Irka Bolen and Bahak Birgen, I knew I had enough budget, time, and strength to photograph the last eagle-hunting successor of this project. And just like before, I wanted to find something more than just “another kid.” Trying to figure out what could add a unique perspective to this image series, I dug deeper into the main question of my journey—exploring the future of Mongolia’s eagle hunting traditions. This led me to ask a question I hadn’t considered before: Is it possible that the future of this ancient art of eagle hunting could also rest on feminine shoulders?

‍

I learned that Mongolia’s rough terrain and harsh climate were the main reasons eagle hunting was widely accepted as a male domain. However, in every place where I had the privilege of meeting the local women, I saw symbols of power and inspiration. Mongolia is also a country where the majority of the educated population is female, and many institutions are run by women. This made the idea of a female eagle huntress not an unreasonable option—just an unexplored one, as far as I knew.

‍

And with that understanding, we set out on a search for the ‘Eagle Huntress.’

‍

‍

At first, many of the hunters we visited responded with “Jokh!” — Kazakh for “No.” Most had never heard of, nor cared about, the idea of a female huntress. But my local fixer, who had grown quite fond of our concept and photographic adventure, was determined to keep pushing. Eventually, we came across a renowned and respected hunter named Agalai. We told him about our project, and he graciously introduced us to his daughter — Aisholpan. 

‍

I had the honor of joining Aisholpan and her father during various training sessions up in the mountains. Interestingly, despite having almost no experience working with her father’s eagle, Aisholpan was always in completely in control. Following her father’s instructions, she effortlessly shifted between the dominant and focused posture of a hunter and the gentle, loving demeanor of a young girl, joyfully caressing the eagle's feathers.

‍

‍

Sadly, after only a few weeks, our time together had to end. After we said our goodbyes to the family and packed all our travel and camera gear into the car, I asked to speak with Aisholpan’s father one last time.

‍

Our conversation was simple. I first asked him:

‍

“How did it feel watching your daughter dressed as a hunter, standing tall on a mountaintop while learning from you how to be an eagle huntress?” 

‍

“Not bad at all!” Agalai replied.

‍

“Would you ever have considered truly training her? Turning her into what is probably the first-ever Eagle Huntress in modern Mongolia?” 

‍

With all honesty, I expected the old hunter to replay with a straightforward “No” or a joking “Maybe”, but after a short pause he said the following: 

‍

“You know, until a few years ago, my eldest son was the successor. I thought him everything I knew about eagle hunting. But he decided to join the army and has become an officer - which tels me that he probably won’t be back to practice our tradition. 

‍

For a while now, I considered training Aisholpan as well but I wouldn't never do it… unless she asked me to.”

‍

From the father’s answer, I realized that the idea of women’s participation in keeping and protecting this ancient tradition is a possible future, but just like many other aspects of the life of a successor, pressuring that future is something that women should act for and claim themselves.

‍

‍

This image series and story was the beginning of my long-term project ‘The Successors’. There are many unique and extraordinary cultures all over the world whose future lays in the hands of their modern-day successors - young individuals whose decisions and personal journeys will determine the future of ancient arts and traditions and who have shaped the world of their communities for thousands of years. 

‍

Join me as I explore more of these stories of succession and try to figure out the future of these relics of the human experience.

‍