The Eagle has Landed: A Hunt with Kyrgyzstan's Last Eagle Hunter

High above the southern shore of Issyk-Kul lake, in east Kyrgyzstan, we wait and watch for movement on the rocky hillside below. Movement means prey. And that means that the hunt is on for Sulukke, our Golden Eagle. For centuries, the nomadic people of Central Asia have used eagles to hunt for food and fur. On a freezing morning in December, I went hunting Nur-Sultan, Kyrgyzstan’s most famous eagle hunter.

The bond between eagle and man is strong. For thousands of years, the nomads who roamed the slopes of the steppe across Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan and Mongolia have tamed these giant birds, hunted alongside them, and then passed on that knowledge on to the next generation. Eagle and man, side by side. Hunting foxes, hares and even wolves to survive the long, cold winter months. Archaeological evidence indicates that eagle hunting has been practised since the 7th-6th centuries BC, with the remains of hunting birds discovered in human burials among the Zheti-Tobe mounds in the Zhambyl Region.

Hunting with eagles was once widespread across the region. Almost every young man would prove his manhood by capturing a baby eagle, training it, and then hunt with it by his side. But, the practice of hunting with eagles was almost wiped out during the Soviet era. The state forced many nomad tribes to live in newly built towns and cities. Ancient rituals, traditions and local languages were strongly discouraged, sometimes even banned. Today, there are just 50 eagle hunters left in Kyrgyzstan, an art that mostly survives on tourism, and has been recognised by UNESCO as a living human heritage practice since 2010.

Heading to the Mountains with Nur-Sultan on horseback on the shore of Issyk-Kul lake. Credit: Stephane Cornille

More Than Pets: A Hunting Partnership

But, eagles are not pets. They’re hunting partners. An eagle hunter will steal a female eaglet from its nest when it is just 3 months old. Some men are killed when the eagle parent returns to its nest during the heist, and attacks them. The hunter will spend almost every waking moment of the next year by the eaglet’s side. Caring for her, feeding her by hand, talking and singing to her, as to build a special bond with his new hunting partner.

At one year old, training intensifies. The hunter drags a fox pelt behind him, honing the eagle's pursuit instincts. Months later comes the ultimate test: the first live hunt. If successful, the eagle and hunter will spend two decades together before the bird is released, free to live out its remaining years in the wild.

Our day begins on horseback. When the mountain path becomes too steep, we continue on foot. Hunting requires patience. Hunting demands patience; we pause every hundred metres, tossing rocks into the scrub below to flush out potential prey. We scan the hillside below, watching for any movement. When a fox finally appears, Nur-Sultan removes the cap from Sulukke's head. She spreads her wings, soaring into the valley—only to land on a nearby rock. The fox has already vanished.

After four hours, we hike back down the hill. Though unsuccessful, Sulukke still needs to eat. Nur-Sultan uses a live rabbit to demonstrate the brutal efficiency of the hunt. It’s brutal and raw. Sulukke swoops down onto the rabbit, sinks her powerful talons into its soft fur and tears it apart piece by piece - a raw display of nature's unforgiving cycle.

The decline in eagle hunting has disrupted local ecosystems, as the practice helped control prey animal populations. Urbanisation, climate change, and younger generations leaving rural areas further threaten this ancient tradition. Conservation efforts, both local and international, aim to preserve eagle hunting and pass on this knowledge to the next generation.