Ostriches Revive Memories of Georgia's Political Past
The six African ostriches at a farm south of Tbilisi may not know it, but they are, in fact, a long-necked part of Georgia’s colorful political history.
Once the pampered pets of regional strongman Aslan Abashidze, the birds had their fate rewritten in May 2004 when Georgian President Mikheil Saakashvili ousted Abashidze from power in the Black Sea region of Achara. [For details, see the Eurasia Insight archive.] With Abashidze's stables - both political and animal - cleaned out, his 25 ostriches needed a new home.
For the answer, Saakashvili's government hit on a horse-breeding farm 30 kilometers south of the Georgian capital run by Tbilisi-based businessman Gia Seturidze. . Seturidze, who runs several consulting and real estate companies, agreed to the proposal, hoping to farm the ostriches and make a profit selling their meat. But several of the birds did not survive the transfer from subtropical Achara to the arid stretches of Georgia's southeast near the Azerbaijani border. Others were donated to the Tbilisi zoo.
The remaining six live at Seturidze's farm in the village of Kulari where they are both an unlikely and an unwelcome presence.
"These birds are stupid and useless," commented handler Viktor, sizing up a two-and-a-half-meter-tall male ostrich that, curious, stared back steadily through its heavily lashed, big, black eyes.
Sporting a handsome coat of lush black feathers hemmed with white plumes, the male ostrich calmly posed for a EurasiaNet photographer's camera, but did not respond well to displays of interest from outsiders in his more mousy female companions. A painful kick in the photographer's backside sent two journalists scurrying out of the ostrich pen.
"All they do is eat and they eat like cows," Viktor continued. The birds gobble up some seven kilograms of alfalfa, barley and soy each day.
Asked to show the birds, Viktor at first shrugs and points to a massive chunk of meat lying in the corner of a dog's cage. "This one died the other day," he said wryly.
More eager to show off Seturidze's thoroughbred horses, Viktor grumbles that he is running "an assisted living facility for ostriches."
"See that one over there? It is blind. It stared at welding for too long and then lost its eyesight."
Seturidze, reluctantly, agrees with Viktor's description, saying that he was "shocked" when he learned that the birds can live "for as long as 70 years." Seturidze's birds are, on average, just 15 years old.
But that does not mean 55 years of supplies to meet booming local demand for ostrich meat. The Georgian market has not been robust.
Local consumers, their palates accustomed to traditional Georgian dishes, have no wish to experiment, Seturidze found.
"Even turkey you would have only once or maybe twice a year for special occasions," he recounted. "Now how often would you buy ostrich meat? You may try it once and that's it."
Russia's larger, deeper-pocketed market could have offered one alternative for sales, but Moscow's 2006 ban on Georgian agricultural products - and the 2008 war with Georgia - put an end to such thoughts.
Current meat sales cannot pay off even a fraction of the $20,000 per year it costs to maintain the ostriches, he says.
"One ostrich is as expensive to keep as one cow, but is ten times less productive," Seturidze continued. "But when you run a cow farm, you can always sell beef and milk, while ostrich meat you can only sell once in a blue moon."
Yet Seturidze claims that he does not want to euthanize or otherwise get rid of the birds; the problem, he says with a sigh, will probably outlive him.
But, down on the farm, measures are being taken to make sure that problem at least does not get any bigger.
Before bidding farewell to visitors, handler Viktor walked into a barn and reemerged with a giant ostrich egg. "We don't have the incubators to keep them," he commented drily. "Maybe you can make pancakes."
Giorgi Lomsadze is a freelance writer based in Tbilisi. Temo Bardzimashvili is a freelance photojournalist also based in Tbilisi.
Giorgi Lomsadze is a journalist based in Tbilisi, and author of Tamada Tales.
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