Altay Herders on Summer Pastures Still in the Shadow of the Blizzard
In late June, while travelling by car to Jiangbutasi village in eastern Altay, Xinjiang, we kept coming across Kazakh herders on horseback driving their livestock to summer pastures. Vehicles frequently had to pull over to let the herds pass. This is now the migration season for herders.
Herders in the Altay region largely retain a semi-nomadic tradition: they graze livestock on high-altitude pastures in summer, return to foothill settlements for winter, and use mid-mountain grazing grounds during spring and autumn. Currently, most of the livestock from Jiangbutasi village have reached the mid-mountain pastures in the Naogan area, where they await their move up to the high summer ranges.
Whether in the settlements at the foot of the mountains or in the white felt yurts of the mid-pastures, you can see herders milking livestock, drinking milk tea and playing with their children—scenes of quiet peace and contentment.
If you were to see only this, you might struggle to imagine that, just six months ago, they endured a natural disaster unseen for over a decade. In late November 2022, the entire Altay region experienced a rare blizzard (click here for details). From 23 November, Jiangbutasi Village endured five consecutive days of heavy snow. Thick snowdrifts blocked the roads into and out of the village; fodder and coal could not be brought in, leaving herders with inadequate winter supplies helpless and anxious.
Through the combined efforts of the village committee and the resident charitable organisation, the Xinjiang Shan Shui Environmental Protection and Sustainable Development Centre (hereafter the “Xinjiang Shan Shui Centre”), the village used over 30,000 yuan in donations to clear the roads and brought in dozens of tonnes of silage maize feed from outside. Distributed free of charge to 41 herding households (click for details), this provided much-needed relief.
During our household visits in the region, the resilience and optimism of most herders left us deeply moved. Yet, in truth, many continue to live in the shadow of last year’s blizzard. The adverse effects of extreme weather on livestock health, pasture conditions, herders’ incomes, and living standards are far more complex and enduring than initially anticipated.
I. Herders’ Livelihoods After the Blizzard
As with most Kazakh herding households, their main income comes from selling livestock, alongside wages, seasonal agricultural labour, grassland ecological conservation payments, and borderland subsidies, typically bringing in around 100,000 yuan annually. Last year, however, apart from wages and government allowances, they had virtually no other income—only expenses.
Director Biexian explained that the lack of income was due to pandemic control measures in recent years disrupting the normal livestock trade. Located in the northeast and bordering Mongolia, Jiangbutasi Village is remote and poorly accessible. With outside traders unable to reach the area, local buyers capitalised on the isolation to drive down prices. A local breed of cattle that normally fetched 7,000 to 8,000 yuan last year sold for just 2,000 to 3,000.
With livestock unsaleable at a decent price, herders had no option but to keep feeding them, and the Altay mountains’ lengthy winter only heightened the demand for fodder. After the rare blizzard last year, winter in Jiangbutasi dragged on for nearly another six months, with the final snow in May officially marking the end of the harsh season.
In Jiangbutasi, where traditional four-season transhumance is still largely maintained, winter is invariably the hardest period for livestock. The fat reserves accumulated over the preceding six months are rapidly depleted during this time, while pregnant females approaching lambing or kidding require extra care and nutrition.
In years with moderate snowfall, cattle and sheep can roam the winter pastures freely, grazing on whatever grass is accessible and licking snow to satisfy their thirst. Yet over the course of a near eight-month bitter winter, the winter pastures become blanketed in deep snow, leaving herders no choice but to pen their animals in enclosures near their settlements and sustain them on purchased feed.
II. Sick and Weak Livestock
Salikugul, the herder who has been driving us between households for our surveys over the past couple of days, has also lost six cattle due to lockdown restrictions and the blizzard.
Last winter, Salikugul’s household had limited fodder reserves. Hesitant to supplement the livestock at normal rates, she offered only a small portion each day. She devised an alternative to boost their nutrition: every three or four days, she would mix raw eggs with hay to make a thick mash for the cows. Yet this could not fundamentally solve the fodder shortage.
Restless with hunger, the cattle could not be kept in their pens and made their way up the mountain to forage. At the time, pandemic controls had not yet been eased, and villagers were required to remain indoors. Unable to check on the herd regularly, Salikugul lost four cows to wolves. Two others perished from thirst, trapped in their enclosures without access to water. Most painfully, her favourite cow could not be claimed on insurance due to a lost ear tag, leaving her so distressed she refused to drink her milk tea for two days.
When recounting these events, Salikugul’s tone was remarkably calm. It was only after our translator relayed her words that we, who do not share her language, fully realised the scale of her losses.
When I asked Salikugul how many cattle she planned to sell this year, she did not answer directly, merely remarking, “No one knows what lies ahead.” Combined with the five culled last year due to animal disease, her family had lost half their herd. Nomadic life is fraught with uncertainty; who can guarantee that this year will be free from misfortune?
Yet a sliver of hope remains in Salikugul’s heart. She added that if market conditions prove favourable this year, and a single cow fetches over ten thousand yuan, selling just three would allow her to settle the debts and outstanding balances from purchasing fodder last winter.
However, given the condition of the herd, this expectation is unlikely to materialise. Salikugul has noticed that this year’s calves refuse to follow their mothers, as the cows went hungry over winter and lack sufficient milk. Both adults and young are generally frail; all she can do now is hope the coming months will allow them to fatten up properly.
III. Drought-Stricken Pastures
According to local experience, the snow around Sandao Haizi usually melts almost completely by the end of June. This year, however, substantial drifts remain unmelted, and temperatures are more than 10°C lower than in the valleys below. We had climbed up in short sleeves, but quickly shrugged on heavy coats to ward off the biting wind.
With the late thaw and sluggish temperature rise, the mountain grass is slow to grow. Several herders remarked that the migration to the summer pastures will likely be delayed by a few days this year.
The outlook for the intermediate pastures is equally bleak. Director Bie Xian noted that grass growth in the Naogan area is lagging behind previous years, with some patches already beginning to dry out.
As we followed Director Bie Xian to visit 82-year-old Yahu Ti, a light rain began to drizzle over the pastures. By the time we reached the yurt, everyone’s clothes were damp. Yahu Ti’s family, however, were delighted; it was the first rainfall on the mountains in two months. The drizzle lasted barely twenty minutes before stopping, doing little to alleviate the parched grazing lands. Director Bie Xian reckoned this would be another year of drought.
He recalled 2010 as a turning point. Since then, winter snowfall has been heavier than usual, summer rains have grown scarcer, and the air has grown increasingly arid.
With spring and summer rainfall so scarce, could the region’s substantial snowmelt not at least mitigate the drought in the pastures?
76-year-old veteran herder Haimu patiently set us straight. He explained that an excessively deep snowpack can crush the pastureland, leading to soil erosion and bare ground. Should temperatures rise rapidly in spring, the sudden melt can trigger snowmelt flooding, which is far more likely to wash away the topsoil than to seep underground and replenish the water table.
Despite decades of herding, Haimu remains remarkably robust. Perhaps thanks to his years of training eagles in his youth, his eyes retain a sharp, luminous glint. Though he has lived a settled life at the foot of the mountains for a decade, he still rides out daily to help his son tend the family herd.
When the conversation turned to last November’s blizzard, the old man reflected that he had not witnessed snowfall of such magnitude in sixty years. Had it occurred decades ago, he noted, it would undoubtedly have resulted in severe casualties among both people and livestock. Conditions across the village remain tough this year, but thankfully, no animals perished directly in the storm.
Recalling past snow disasters, Haimu also spoke of the sudden sleet that fell during the summer of 1997. His family still remember the names of neighbouring herders who froze to death in that storm.
IV. An Uncertain Future
His words struck us with sudden clarity. The old man’s allegiance to nomadism was not simply a matter of adhering to tradition; it also stemmed from a profound understanding of its ecological value. Lamenting the shift, he noted that many young people today no longer understand grazing: “They know neither the benefits of letting the animals roam, nor the drawbacks of keeping them penned.”
So, what ecological wisdom is truly embedded in the Kazakh nomadic way of life?
This past March, inspired and supported by partners such as the Beijing Heyi Green Public Welfare Foundation and the Vanke Public Welfare Foundation, the Xinjiang Landscape Environmental Centre launched a “Community Survey on Indigenous Knowledge for Climate Change Adaptation in Pastoral Areas.” The initiative aims both to document and pass on traditional ecological knowledge, and to deepen herders’ understanding of climate change so they can implement effective adaptive measures.
Over the past seven years, women’s groups have been established in the village to revive and transmit the Kazakh tradition of making black soap; villagers have been trained to run guesthouses for tourism; summer camps have been organised for children, enlisting both local and out-of-town university students to teach ecological knowledge and traditional wisdom…
Years of dedicated work have made the Xinjiang Landscape Environmental Centre team the most welcomed outsiders in the village. During last year’s snow disaster, their prompt fundraising relieved the village’s immediate crisis, further helping residents understand the value of NGOs as a bridge between the community and the wider world.
In the eyes of local government officials, the Xinjiang Landscape team has introduced fresh development concepts, funding, social resources, and practical methodologies, empowering local residents and enabling national rural revitalisation policies to take root at the village level.
With Eid al-Adha approaching at the end of June, we bid farewell to Jiangbutasi village a little early, while the Xinjiang Landscape team remained behind to work alongside the villagers and celebrate the festival together. For the herders, the most beautiful and vital season of life on the summer pastures is about to begin. Let us borrow a Kazakh proverb we heard often along the way to thank and bless our herding partners in Altay: As long as you are healthy and safe, everything will be well.
Foodthink Author
Foodthink has long focused on livestock farming. Since 2018, we have published a series of articles on pastoralism and grazing lands, seeking to document the authentic lives of herders while exploring how they might live more sustainably amid shifting environmental conditions. If you share an interest in these issues and have firsthand accounts, local stories, or your own perspectives to share, we welcome contributions and invite you to contact us.
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All images in this article, unless otherwise credited, were photographed by Foodthink.
Editor: Tianle