THE NOMAD HERDSMEN AND HERDS OF THE STEPPES. 481 



their own or not; both run on if this is not the case, the lambs 

 and kids, however, in most cases only after they have been made 

 aware of their mistake by a push or tread from the mother animal. 

 Gradually the dense crowd dissolves, for by degrees, in a much 

 shorter time than one would imagine, every mother has found her 

 child, every child its mother, and the young one now kneels down 

 under its parent, eagerly drawing from the udder what milk remains. 

 And if the bleating still continues, the sounds are now indicative 

 only of the liveliest satisfaction. 



But this state of mutual delight does not last long. The 

 udders, already milked, are quickly exhausted, and, in spite of all 

 the thrusts of the suckling, the fountain will flow no longer. But 

 mother and young still enjoy the pleasure of being together. The 

 mixed flock spreads out in all directions, the complaisant mother 

 following the lively youngster as it climbs the nearest height after 

 the manner of its kind, or looking contentedly on when a little kid 

 tries its strength in playful combat with another of its own age. 

 The whole space round the yurt is picturesquely decorated by the 

 lively flocks, a most charming picture of peaceful and comfortable 

 pastoral life lies before the eyes of those who have feeling and 

 understanding to enjoy it. 



The women now allow themselves a short rest, take their chil- 

 dren in their laps, and fulfil their maternal duties or desires. But 

 more work awaits them. A lowing announces the approach of the 

 cows, also eager for their share of maternal joy, and the industrious 

 women rise hastily, bring the calves which were tied up beforehand 

 to the cows, let them suck for a little, wrench them from the udder 

 again, and only after milking allow the calves full freedom. Mean- 

 while the shepherds and dogs have once more collected the sheep 

 and goats, and now old and young, men and women, boys and girls, 

 unite in the work of catching the lambs and fastening them in rows, 

 with nooses which are firm without being too tight, to a cord in 

 front of the yurt, so that the mothers cannot suckle. As may be 

 supposed, this is not completed without much bleating and noise, and 

 mingled with it are the cries and wailings of the children wearying 

 for their mothers, the lowing of cows, and the barking of dogs. 



Cm 70) 31 



