Once, a young 'dzhigit spent the night at the house of a wealthy bay. They laid him to sleep in a yurt, where a beautiful berkut was perched on a pole, fluffing its feathers.
In the morning, the dzhigit, looking at the beautiful bird, said:
— Poor thing, you sit in captivity, with no one to take care of you, to teach you the art of hunting animals. You will never soar in the high sky, glide on the wings of the wind, or see from above how beautiful our jailoos are...
A servant of the bay overheard these words and relayed them to his master. The bay came to the dzhigit and asked:
— Teach my berkut to hunt foxes,
— I have no time for that, — replied the dzhigit.
— If you teach the berkut, I will give you my daughter, — promised the bay.
To this, the dzhigit agreed.
— Set up a yurt in the field, — he said to the bay, — and slaughter a mare that has not had a foal for two years,
And so they did. The dzhigit placed the berkut in the yurt and began to feed it the meat of the mare that had not had a foal for two years.
The berkut ate its fill of meat and became so heavy that it could hardly move in the yurt, let alone fly. The dzhigit was pleased: such a berkut is easier to train.
And then the day came when the dzhigit decided to show what he had taught the bay's berkut.
A huge crowd gathered. The khan and his wife decided to watch the skills of their daughter's future suitor.
And then a black-brown fox dashed into the clearing, saw the berkut — and froze, as if rooted to the spot. The crowd held its breath, waiting for the young berkut to be released. The dzhigit removed the falconer's hood, but did not release the berkut.
The crowd was puzzled.
The dzhigit removed the hood a second time, but the berkut still sat motionless on his arm.
The crowd murmured in discontent. Voices were heard: “It was pointless to slaughter the mare!”
The dzhigit removed the hood for the third time — and the berkut, without even glancing at the black-brown fox, soared into the sky like a whirlwind. It became a dot barely visible to the eye. The black-brown fox, raising its front paws, looked up at the sky in surprise. And then, like lightning, the berkut swooped down from the height onto the fox, sinking its claws into the fluffy fur.
The crowd rejoiced.
The bay approached the dzhigit and asked:
— Why did you only release the berkut on the fox the third time?
— The first time, I could not bring myself to release a treasure on a treasure; the second time, I was afraid of losing both treasures; and the third time, I was seized by the fear of losing my treasure, — replied the dzhigit, gazing lovingly at his bride.
Soon they had a joyful wedding.
Kyrgyz Tales