Ladakh: As the sun begins to set, Tsering Dolma carefully guides her yaks into a stone-walled corral, her one-year-old son snug on her back. In the vast, rugged spaces of Ladakh, only a few herders are visible, tending to their livestock in a landscape shaped by wind and history. For years, families here relied on snowmelt to nourish their high-altitude pastures, but now, that reliability is fading. Tsering remarks, “Snow and rain used to be abundant, but now they’re less predictable. Winters feel warmer too.”
Life in Ladakh centers around these hardy creatures. Women often do the heavy lifting—milking, herding, and creating goods like butter and blankets from yak wool. Kunzias Dolma, 73, embodies this tradition. With her prayer wheel gently turning, she multitasks, making tea from yak milk and tending to her butter, a process she has honed over a lifetime.
However, changes are looming. Climate change casts a shadow over the lifestyle these families have cherished. The increasing temperatures and unpredictable rain patterns make it tough for yaks to find enough grass. Data shows that the average temperature in Ladakh has risen by 3°C (5.4°F) over the past 40 years, leading to harsher conditions for these animals. It’s projected that the yak population fell from about 34,000 in 2012 to fewer than 20,000 by 2019.
Kunzang Angmo, a fellow herder, has witnessed this shift firsthand. “There used to be many yaks,” she recalls, noting the diminishing snowfall and its direct impact on grass availability. Many families, like that of Tsering Angchok, have relied on yaks for food, clothing, and more—everything is used, down to the dung.
But as vegetation transforms and grazing land shrinks, the outlook becomes grim. Thering Norphel, a former herder, recalls a time when pastures were lush and vibrant. “Now, those mountains are bare rock instead of snow,” he says, emphasizing the need for snow and ice to sustain water sources for the grass yaks rely on.
Experts in the field, like Tashi Dorji from the International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development, underscore the link between rising global temperatures and the hardships faced by herders. “Melting glaciers and erratic rainfall affect both the people and their livestock directly,” he asserts. Stanzin Rabgais, a livestock officer, adds that higher temperatures have led to more diseases among yaks.
The decline of yak herding impacts Ladakh’s ecosystem. Herders play a crucial role in managing the land, keeping invasive species at bay, and preserving local biodiversity. If herding dwindles, the landscape may shift dramatically, with native species disappearing in favor of less nutritious vegetation. “The health of the land is at stake,” notes Dorji.
While challenges mount, there’s potential in yak products, like yak calf wool, known for its incredible softness—a fact that could open new markets if promoted correctly. However, the younger generation is increasingly drawn to tourism and other careers, leaving the older herders behind. “They often prefer indoor jobs with better pay,” says Norphel.
Yet, some young herders like 32-year-old Punchuk Namdol remain committed to their tradition. “This was once our only work,” he reflects. “But fewer people are willing to take care of yaks because it’s tough.”
The future seems uncertain for herding in Ladakh, where the pull of modern jobs competes with a rich, yet threatened, cultural heritage. The balance between tradition and change hangs delicate in the dry mountain air, reminding us that livelihoods can be as fragile as the environment we inhabit.
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yak herders, Ladakh yak herders, global warming, climate change