The Cave of the Yellow Dog

In the era of the X-Box and the PlayStation it makes a refreshing change to hear a child ask: "Mum, can I have some dung?"

Yes, pleasures are both simple and basic in the lives of nomads eking out a living through their sheep and cattle on the gaunt Mongolian steppes.

The mass materialism of the 21st century has barely made an incursion, save for a knackered motorbike and pair of Charlie Brown tights for the nippers.

Shifting the dung game up a notch, Nansal, the six-year-old daughter of the Batchulum family, heads off to collect dried manure for her mum to smoke meat.

During her lazily erratic wandering, she chances upon a stray dog hidden in a mountain cave, names it Zacher (Spot) and brings it back to the family's summer camp.

Dad's not too chuffed - believing it to have taken a bite out of his sheep - but he's off to the city on an errand and tells Nansal to ditch the dog before he gets back.

There's no real story here, more a series of episodes emphasising the nomadic respect for nature - the age-old bond between man and dog - and the Mongolian reverence for the concept of reincarnation.

British social services would go into bureaucratic meltdown if they saw the sort of tasks regularly undertaken by the Batchulum brood - anklebiters herding on horseback and providing resourceful self-sufficiency while mum's out.

However, what comes across forcefully is the genuine love swirling around the family yurt while Davaa captures sublimely the affectionate play between the rosy-cheeked urchins.

Neatly sidestepping a late slot on the National Geographic channel, this offers less of the whimsy that afflicted Weeping Camel and uses the real-life Batchulums to tell a story without adornment.

Tim Evans