Nomads
This is the home of the nomads. Sometimes it has more hills and less water, sometimes more water and less hills. The yak graze accompanied by a herder or two. Sheep crop the grass here and there. I can only imagine how cold it must be here at more than 4,000 meters when the winter winds start up.
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These are two scenes from inside a nomad tent. The men are cutting cold yak meat to pop into their mouths from the white tub on the floor. The white to the right is the stove (yak chip fueled) and the fence behind it is holding a chip pile in place. To their left this baby, unaided, was nursing from a bottle (yak milk). The baby was swaddled so completely that I cannot imagine what the process must be for changing her diaper clothes (I assume there are some under there!). Unfortunately, though I was curious, I never got to see for myself.
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These two young women were milking the yaks when I arrived. I wonder how much time they spend each day, just on milking! My parents used to feel a little tied down by having a milk cow. Which of course was milked by hand. Large-scale Western dairy operations usually use milking machines. But these nomad women have no machines, and hundreds of yaks!
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