Siberia's nomadic Nenets: Home is where the pasture is

My pants are down. It's dark and I'm fumbling to undo the numerous layers I'm wearing, without falling into the deep snow. Then out of the starry night, an antler prods my bottom. Before long, I'm surrounded by a group of reindeer, apparently attracted by the salt in my urine. Any notions of privacy seem to have evaded them.

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