Altay herders migrating to summer pastures still live in the shadow of the blizzards
In late June, while travelling to Jiangbutasi Village in eastern Altay, Xinjiang, we frequently encountered Kazakh herders on horseback driving their cattle and sheep to new pastures, with cars often coming to a halt to let the herds pass. This is the peak of the migration season.
Herders in the Altay region largely maintain their semi-nomadic traditions: grazing livestock on high-altitude pastures in the summer, returning to settlements at the foot of the mountains in winter, and using mid-mountain pastures as transitional grounds during spring and autumn. At present, most of the livestock from Jiangbutasi Village have reached the middle pastures of the Naogan region, where they await the final ascent.
Whether in the villages nestled at the foot of the mountains or within the white yurts of the middle pastures, scenes of herders milking cows, sipping milk tea, and playing with their children are common—serene and joyful.
Looking at this alone, it is hard to imagine that just six months ago, they endured a natural disaster the likes of which had not been seen for over a decade. In late November 2022, the entire Altay region was hit by a rare blizzard (click for more details). From 23 November, Jiangbutasi Village was buried under five consecutive days of heavy snowfall. Thick drifts blocked the roads into and out of the village, making it impossible to transport fodder and coal. For those whose winter reserves were insufficient, there was nothing to do but wait in helpless anxiety.
Through the joint efforts of the village committee and the resident public welfare organisation, the Xinjiang Mountain-Water Environmental Protection and Sustainable Development Centre (hereinafter referred to as the “Xinjiang Mountain-Water Environmental Centre”), over 30,000 yuan in charitable donations was used to clear the roads. Furthermore, dozens of tonnes of maize silage were brought in from outside and distributed free of charge to 41 herding households (click for details), providing some urgent relief.
During our door-to-door visits, we were deeply moved by the optimistic and resilient spirit of most of the herders. In reality, however, many are still living in the shadow of last year’s blizzard. The negative impact of extreme weather on livestock health, the grassland environment, herders’ income, and their standard of living is more complex and enduring than one might imagine.
I. Herders’ Livelihoods After the Blizzard
Like most Kazakh herders, the family’s primary source of income comes from selling livestock. When combined with salaries, casual agricultural work, and ecological and frontier subsidies, their annual income typically reaches around 100,000 yuan. However, last year was an exception; aside from salaries and government grants, they had almost no income at all—only expenses.
Director Bie Xian explained that the loss of income was due to the pandemic control measures of recent years, which disrupted the livestock market. Jiangbutasi Village, located in a remote area bordering Mongolia to the northeast, suffers from poor transport links. With outside traders unable to reach the village, local buyers seized the opportunity to slash prices; local cattle that once fetched seven or eight thousand yuan could only be sold for two or three thousand last year.
With livestock fetching poor prices, the herders had no choice but to keep them. The prolonged winter in the Altay mountains only intensified the need for fodder. Following a snowstorm the likes of which hadn’t been seen in over a decade, winter in Jiangbutasi Village stretched on for nearly six months, only finally coming to an end with the last snowfall in May.
For Jiangbutasi Village, where the tradition of four-season nomadic herding is largely preserved, winter is the most grueling season for the animals. Much of the fat stored up over the preceding months is depleted during this time, and ewes nearing lambing require additional care and nutrition.
In years with moderate snowfall, cattle and sheep can forage freely in the winter pastures, licking snow to quench their thirst. However, during a severe winter lasting nearly eight months, the pastures are buried under deep snow, forcing herders to keep their livestock in pens within the settlements and rely entirely on purchased feed.
II. Ailing Livestock
Salikguli, the herder who has been driving us for our household surveys these past few days, also lost six cows due to the lockdowns and snowstorms.
Last winter, Salikguli’s family had limited fodder reserves. Unable to risk their supplies, she couldn’t afford to provide the livestock with their normal supplementary feed, giving them only a tiny amount each day. She tried other ways to supplement their nutrition—every three or four days, she would mix raw eggs with fodder into a paste for the cows—but this could not fundamentally solve the shortage of feed.
The hungry cows couldn’t stay in the pens and wandered off to the mountains in search of grass. At the time, pandemic restrictions were still in place and villagers were ordered to stay indoors; unable to check on her herd regularly, Salikguli lost four cows to wolves. Two others died of thirst, trapped in a fence unable to reach water. Her most prized cow had lost its ear tag, making her ineligible for insurance compensation—she was so upset she didn’t drink milk tea for two days.
When talking about these events, Salikguli’s tone was unnervingly calm. As we didn’t speak the language, it was only after hearing the translation that we realised the scale of the loss.
I asked Salikguli how many cows she planned to sell this year. She didn’t answer me directly, saying only, “No one can say what will happen.” Including five cows culled due to livestock disease, her family lost half their herd last year. Nomadic life is fraught with uncertainty; who can guarantee that no accidents will happen this year?
Yet, perhaps a glimmer of hope remains in Salikguli’s heart. She added that if the market is good this year and a cow can fetch over 10,000, selling just three would be enough to clear the debts and credit she took on to buy fodder during the winter.
But given the condition of the herd, such expectations are unlikely to become reality. Salikguli noticed that this year’s new calves are reluctant to follow their mothers because the cows were underfed in winter and lack enough milk. Both the adult cows and the calves are generally frail; all they can do now is hope to put on some weight over the coming months.
III. Drought-stricken Pastures
Based on the villagers’ experience, the snow at Sandao Haizi should have mostly melted by the end of June in previous years. However, this year a significant amount of snow remains, and the temperature is more than 10 degrees lower than in the valley below. Having ascended in short sleeves, we were quick to throw on thick coats to shield ourselves from the cold wind.
With the late snowmelt and the sluggish rise in temperature, the grass on the mountain is growing slowly. Several herders noted that the migration to the summer pastures would likely be pushed back by a few days this year.
The state of the Middle Pastures is equally worrying. Director Bie Xian observed that the grass in the Naogan area is not thriving as it has in previous years and has already begun to wither.
As we accompanied Director Bie Xian to visit 82-year-old Yahuti, a light drizzle began to fall over the pastures. We were soaked by the time we reached the yurt, but Yahuti and his family were overjoyed—it was the first rain the mountain had seen in two months. However, the rain ceased within twenty minutes, doing little to ease the acute drought. Director Bie Xian suspects that this will be another dry year.
In his memory, 2010 marked a turning point. Since then, winter snows have fallen heavier than usual, summer rains have dwindled, and the air has grown increasingly arid.
With insufficient precipitation during the spring and summer, one might wonder if the snowmelt in the Altay region could alleviate the drought on the pastures.
Hayimu, a 76-year-old veteran herder, carefully explained the situation: excessive snow can crush the pastures, leading to soil erosion and exposed earth. Furthermore, if temperatures rise too quickly in spring, the rapid melt can trigger snowmelt floods. These are more likely to devastate the pastures than to seep into the ground and replenish the groundwater.
Having spent decades herding, Hayimu remains remarkably robust; perhaps owing to his youth spent training eagles, his eyes are still bright and piercing. Although he settled in the valley a decade ago, he still rides every day to help his son tend to the family’s livestock.
Speaking of last November’s blizzard, Hayimu remarked that he hadn’t seen anything of that scale in sixty years. He told us that had such a storm hit decades ago, it would certainly have caused severe casualties among both people and livestock. While the village is facing overall hardships this year, they were fortunate that no livestock perished directly in the blizzard.
Recalling past disasters, Hayimu also mentioned the sudden sleet that struck in the summer of 1997. His family still remembers the names of the neighbouring herders who froze to death during that storm.
IV. An Uncertain Future
At that moment, it clicked for us. The elder’s commitment to nomadic life was not merely a matter of following tradition; it was rooted in a profound understanding of its ecological value. With a touch of regret, he noted that many young people today no longer understand the essence of grazing: “They don’t know the benefits of grazing, nor do they understand the drawbacks of abandoning it.”
What, then, is the ecological wisdom embedded within the nomadic traditions of the Kazakh people?
In March this year, with the inspiration and support of partners such as the Beijing Heyi Green Public Welfare Foundation and the Vanke Public Welfare Foundation, the Xinjiang Mountain-Water Environmental Protection Centre launched a “Community Survey on Indigenous Knowledge for Climate Change Adaptation in Pastoral Areas”. The aim is twofold: to document and preserve traditional ecological knowledge, and to enhance herdsmen’s awareness of climate change, thereby enabling more effective adaptation measures.
Over the course of more than seven years, women’s groups were established in the village to revive and preserve the traditional Kazakh art of making black soap; villagers were trained to run guesthouses for tourists; and summer camps were organised for children, bringing in university students from both inside and outside the region to teach them about ecology and traditional wisdom…
After several years of dedicated work, the team from the Xinjiang Mountain-Water Environmental Protection Centre has become the most welcome outsiders in the village. During last year’s snow disaster, the centre raised funds promptly to address the village’s most urgent needs, further helping the villagers appreciate the value of a non-profit organisation as a bridge between their community and the outside world.
From the perspective of local government officials, the Xinjiang Mountain-Water team has introduced new developmental ideas, funding, social resources, and operational methods. By empowering the local people, they have ensured that the government’s rural revitalisation policies can be effectively implemented on the ground.
The end of June marks Eid al-Adha. We bid farewell to Jiangbutasi village early, but our partners from Xinjiang Mountain-Water remained to work and celebrate the festival with the community. For the herdsmen, the most beautiful and significant part of the year—life on the summer pastures—is about to begin. Let us use a Kazakh proverb we heard many times along the way to thank and bless our partners in Altay: “As long as there is health and peace, all is well.”
Foodthink Author
Foodthink has long been dedicated to the topic of animal husbandry. Since 2018, we have published a series of articles concerning the livestock industry and pastoral regions, seeking to document the authentic lives of herders while exploring how they can live more sustainably within a volatile environment. If you share an interest in these issues, possess first-hand local materials and stories, or have your own insights, we welcome your contributions or contact.
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Editor: Tianle