to stalk them on level ground as it makes them more wary and shy. You may perhaps succeed in getting within 200 paces of a herd, but you must still be careful to aim at the head, or behind the shoulder; a kulan with a broken leg will run for some distance before he lies down in a hollow or ravine. The best time to stalk them is when they are drinking; this is the plan usually adopted by the natives, who kill them for the sake of their meat, which is esteemed a great delicacy, especially in autumn, when they are very fat.[1]
When alarmed a kulan runs down wind with his great ugly head and scanty tail stretched out. In their flight they always follow their leader, generally in single file. After running a few hundred yards, they will stop, huddle together and confront the object of their fears for a few minutes; the stallion will then advance and try to reconnoitre the source of danger. If the hunter still continue to approach them, they will again take to flight, but this time they will run a good deal farther. The animal is not nearly so wary as you would at first sight suppose it to be. I only heard its voice twice — the first time when the stallion was driving back to his troop some strayed mares, and the second when two males were fighting. The noise they made was a loud harsh neigh, repeated at short intervals, and combined with a bray.
The inhabitants of Koko-nor and the conterminous
- ↑ The ghorkhar, or wild ass of the Persian Desert, is also highly prized for his flesh. — Y.
