Braintree Native Tracks
Snow Leopards in Mongolia

Caitlin Jacobs is a Braintree native who graduated from Hamilton College in 2007. After spending three months in Mongolia, as part of her Watson Fellowship to study the coexistence of big cats and people, she is now studying the Iberian lynx in Spain.

By Caitlin Jacobs

I started my Watson Fellowship in Mongolia, spending most of my three months living in a remote, Strictly Protected Area (SPA) in the Uvs province of Northwestern Mongolia. I conducted a snow leopard survey, while at the same time conducting the research and inquiries related to my fellowship project.

When we first arrived at the study site we had to set up camera traps in areas where there were snow leopard signs such as tracks, scrapes, scat, spray, etc. Our job was then to check each camera trap as frequently as we could. If we neglected a camera trap for too long the camera batteries would die, the film would run out, wires would get uncovered and chewed by small mammals, and sometimes cameras would even get knocked down by the strong winds.

Our work mainly consisted of hiking. With 19 sites to check, we rarely had a day off, and I have to say straight out that the hiking was the most difficult hiking that I have ever done, and probably ever will do in my life. The mountains were impossibly steep with no trails, except for those made by the ibex.

Most of the time we were walking on loose rocks, which were constantly turning into rock slides. Because the camera traps were spaced so far apart, we had to walk anywhere from six to ten hours every day.

Although I really enjoyed this (except when it rained), it took me awhile to get used to the fact that Mongolians have never heard of packing a lunch. Or maybe they have and it's just that their lunch does not include a hearty PB & J.

Instead it consists of small chocolate bars, very sugary dried fruit, and sucking candy. But along with the rocky terrain, I got used to this aspect of the work as well.

Snow Leopard Encounter

The river rushed loudly beside me as I walked along the rocky bank on my way to check the Site 2 camera trap. It was two o'clock in the afternoon and the day was overcast, with the dark clouds above the mountains threatening a rainstorm.

A strong wind blew down the valley and each gust pelted me with small raindrops. With a possible rainstorm to accompany me back to camp, wind in my face, and the chorus of a Mongolian song repeating over and over in my head, it was a typical day in the field. But that typical day was suddenly interrupted when, rounding a large boulder, I found myself less than 10 feet away from three baby snow leopards busily feasting on a large male ibex carcass!

I stopped abruptly. It took my brain about 10 seconds to come out of shock and comprehend what was directly in front of me. Three baby snow leopards! They were one and a half feet tall at the most, with fuzzy, off-white fur spotted with black rosettes. And they were looking right at me.

My first thought was "Oh my God," a phrase I distinctly remember repeating over and over in rapid succession for at least 15 seconds. My second thought was, "Three cubs—where is the mother?"

A moment of slight panic swept over me as I envisioned a protective snow leopard mother leaping on me from the steep rock banks above. Backing away, I quickly scanned the area, but there was no mother to be seen. It was still slightly unnerving however, because with the rushing river right next to me, I could not hear a thing. I half expected to turn around and find the mother strolling up from behind.

Turning my attention back to the cubs, I saw that they had hesitantly started to move away from the ibex carcass. One of the cubs jumped up on a high rock and looking down at me gave a little meow, clearly directed at my intrusion. The other two cubs were more cautious, and as they moved away they kept glancing back at me as if trying to decide whether my presence was enough to make them abandon their lunch.

It was then that I thought, "Oh...take a picture," only to remember that I had left my camera at camp because my backpack had been so full with all of my rain clothes and camera trap gear. Typical.

So instead of taking pictures, I just stood there and watched the three cubs as they made their way up a very narrow ravine and out of sight. Thinking that the cubs and maybe even the mother might come back to eat, I ran to the Site 2 and grabbed one of the cameras. Climbing the bank across from the carcass I found a little spot to sit, and I stayed there, hoping that the snow leopards would venture back to the ibex. But they never returned, and I spent the two-hour walk back to camp replaying the image of the three cubs over and over in my mind. It is one that I will never forget.