Once Displaced, Pastoralists Are Now Proud Custodians of Kanchenjunga in India's Northeast
This story and image were produced and published by Asia Democracy Chronicles.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Jennifer Kishan is an independent journalist based out of Kolkata, India who writes on environment, climate change, migration, and issues of social justice.
For generations, pastoralist tribes such as the Dukpas, Limbus, Gurungs, and Bhutias in Sikkim state, in northeast India, spent between six to nine months in a year with their yaks, dzos (mix between a yak and a cow), and horses making use of the natural resources that Kanchenjunga (or Khangchendzonga)’s high-altitude rangelands offer.
Often considered wastelands as they are unsuitable for conventional agriculture, rangelands provide foliage for grazing livestock and wildlife.
In 1998, however, the government of Sikkim implemented a ban on grazing in the Khangchendzonga National Park (KNP), stating that it led to forest degradation, illegal poaching, and cutting down of trees. With the ban, most herders found themselves deprived of their traditional livelihoods. Many sold their animals and joined the eco-tourism industry as guides, pack-animal providers, porters, and kitchen staff for trekking teams in the mountains.
But the Khangchendzonga Conservation Committee (KCC), a local nature conservation non-profit, saw this as a waste of the former herders’ skills and traditional knowledge.
“Ex-yak herders have practically spent their whole lives on high altitude mountains and have firsthand knowledge about the terrain,” says KCC co-founder Tshering Uden Bhutia. “We thought their expertise would be invaluable to conservation and monitoring efforts that could support the state government as well.”
Today, former yak herders make up most of Sikkim’s Himal Rakshaks or “mountain guardians.” As state-notified volunteers, Himal Rakshaks traverse the Kanchenjunga landscape and provide expertise and information to help conserve these mountains.
That landscape comprises the KNP – which includes Mount Kanchenjunga, the world’s third highest peak – its associated sanctuaries, and the range forests. KNP is one of 34 global biodiversity hotspots and a UNESCO World Heritage site. The vast ranges that span across 28 percent of Sikkim’s Himalaya are home to a diverse range of flora and fauna and require constant patrolling and monitoring to ensure their survival.
It is the State Forest Department that has been entrusted with this task but it lacks the human resources and funds to effectively execute it across the vast landscape. The Himal Rakshaks fill this critical gap to ensure that no poaching, hunting, or illegal medicinal plant extraction takes place. As Udai Guring, forest conservator at the Department of Forest and Environment, puts it, “We cannot operate without them. They are our eyes and ears on the field.”
Double duties
“I love going into the mountains where my forefathers once lived,” says Neema Dorjee Bhutia, who has been a Himal Rakshak for the last 10 years. “It’s incredible to see red pandas, deer, blue sheep, and red foxes. We put out forest fires or report on any diseased tree species that we spot. We also sensitize people to protecting the animals here. I feel privileged to do that. This is our land and we are its keepers.”
Red pandas are among the favorite targets of poachers, as are clouded leopards, Himalayan musks, and serows. So, too, are snow leopards, which once posed problems for the former herders among the Himal Rakshaks, since they preyed on their yaks. Nowadays, though, the ex-herders are making sure that the snow leopards themselves are safe.
In 2022, a Himal Rakshak team of 15 even supported the first population survey of these big cats, which are indigenous to Sikkim. At present, there are only 21 snow leopards believed to be roaming a 5,179-sq km stretch of mountainous terrain there.
Under the Snow Leopard Population Assessment Program in India (SPAI), World Wildlife Fund-India (WWF-India) led a team of researchers, government officials, non-profits, experts, and local community volunteers in carrying out the survey.
“The climb was difficult,” recalls Hissey Bhutia, who was among the Himal Rakshaks who joined the venture. He recounts that they went through rugged Goechala mountain pass in eastern Himalayas in search of the elusive animals. “We had been trekking for 10 days already. There was hardly any light, the sky was overcast and my feet felt numb. But my instincts felt its presence even before I saw the pug marks.”
Officially, the Himal Rakshak program was initiated by the State Government of Sikkim in 2006. But it was KCC, with the support of the WWF-India, which trained the volunteers on how to report from the field.
“Initially we chose 15 Himal Rakshaks and trained them on how to use cameras, and what information to report on,” says Tshering. “Now there are twice as many volunteers.”
The program has been rolled out in western Sikkim, though both the government and local organizations hope to scale it up to other parts of the state. Since they are part of a volunteer program, the Himal Rakshaks do not get any compensation and monitor the mountains while they do their “real” paid work. Whenever they participate in research activities, however, they usually get a modest honorarium.
Chewang Tashi Lepcha was among those who helped carry out the SPAI survey. He has been a Himal Rakshak for the last 13 years. He explains how he does his volunteer tasks along with his day job: “When we work as trekking guides, we have to go deep into the forests. Often, we find time during these treks to also do some of our monitoring work. We secretly take photos of any hunting, tree-felling incidents, or even leftover garbage piles and then share them with the KNP Range Officer on our return.”
One of the key advantages of doing both jobs simultaneously is that it saves time and money. “We would have to take our own yaks and food supplies and spend time and resources that we do not have (otherwise),” points out Chewang. “Our jobs as porters, guides and cooks make it easier to monitor the mountains while we are already there.”
Impacts of the ban
Community-based conservation is inherent to Sikkim culture. KCC Advisor Kinzong Sherap Bhutia notes, “Mount Kanchenjunga is believed to be (a) ‘guardian deity’ of this place. This means that all rivers, lakes, trees, species and even stones are considered sacred.”
Spiritual and religious sites are spread across the mountains, which people worship. Rituals are performed throughout the year. “These are deeply rooted beliefs that connect us with conserving our environment,” Kinzong says. “Himal Rakshaks therefore commit to these values irrespective of their work.” Even the rotational grazing once done by many of the Himal Rakshaks in fact helped keep the rangelands healthy and ecologically balanced.
Dr. Rashmi Singh has studied the complex social and ecological outcomes of KNP’s decades-long grazing ban. An assistant professor at the Indian Institute of Technology-Hyderabad, she has documented its impact on delayed flowering and increased domination of non-palatable species in the rangeland.
“Grazing was good for the pastures,” comments Sonam Tsering Bhutia, who used to herd yaks before the ban. “Our yaks would only eat the leaves and not the roots and their excreta enriched the soil. Now the grasslands have disappeared, and rocky areas have replaced them. Many of the prey animals have vanished or moved from their habitats. This affects the entire food chain. The peaks used to be covered in snow – absolutely white. They too have shrunk.”
KCC’s Kinzong Bhutia concurs, saying, “In a fragile ecosystem such as this, any disruption in the food chain will have huge repercussions on the biodiversity of the place and vice versa.”
Globally, there is a resurgence of the value that pastoralists and rangelands bring to sustainable agrifood systems, biodiversity preservation and climate mitigation. The U.N. General Assembly has declared 2026 as the International Year of Rangelands and Pastoralists. The international campaign aims to promote awareness on the “vital contributions of rangelands and pastoralists in resilient rural economies, food security, climate solutions and ecosystem preservation and restoration” among a range of stakeholders.
In Sikkim, Singh’s research indicates that the grazing ban also led to social inequality after the herders lost their livelihoods.
“Many ex-herders struggled with alternative livelihoods,” she tells Asia Democracy Chronicles (ADC). “Weaker sections of the pastoral community were further impoverished while more powerful pastoralists still continued to benefit from conservation policies. This brought economic disparity and social conflicts in the community.”
Sonam recalls, “When I had my yak herds, I sold milk, cheese and butter to run my family. I could also sell a yak in case of emergencies. Our initial years after the ban left us in the lurch – the mountains were all that we knew.”
Valuable Indigenous knowledge
The ban was finally lifted in 2019, but much damage had already been done to the Kanchenjunga ecology. Yet although members of the older generation are nostalgic about their time in the mountains, most of them no longer have their animals and have made peace with their new ways of making a living.
Meanwhile, the younger generation does not want to return to nomadic life. But they do realize that conserving nature is not just a part of their culture; it also brings in tourists, so they are keen on helping with conservation measures like waste management, zero-waste, and community based tourism.
The Himal Rakshaks have confirmed and continue to demonstrate the value of the Indigenous knowledge of Sikkim’s pastoralists. Some have kept doing their tasks as Himal Rakshaks even after being ostracized by their own community and families; apparently, they were initially seen as having betrayed their fellow herders and siding with the state, which had issued the ban.
Beyond monitoring, Himal Rakshaks have proved indispensable to the biodiversity research and assessments conducted by the state forest department and various other agencies.
“In these highly inaccessible mountains, we cannot place our camera traps or research on both flora and fauna without terrain knowledge,” says Rishi Kumar Sharma, head of WWF-India’s Science and Conservation of Himalayas Program.
“The field work remains largely unchanged. Technology can (speed up) our process once we have collected all our data but it cannot replace the mud-and-boots approach, which is the bedrock of all our work. Himal Rakshaks therefore significantly increase our chances of success in the field – much like in the SPAI survey where we captured images of 14 individual snow leopards out of an estimated 21.”
“High-altitude rangeland conservation is at the forefront of all our Himalayan activities,” he continues. “This is a holistic framework that partners with diverse stakeholders to conserve and manage high mountain rangelands. We focus on scalable biodiversity conservation, community participation, scientific approaches, and indigenous knowledge to solve critical conservation challenges.”
Sharma adds, “Sikkim rangeland is a socio-ecological system with a unique biodiversity and nomadic communities. This means that sustainable conservation cannot take place without people. Through the involvement of Himal Rakshaks, we try to blend Western science studies with community knowledge for better conservation.”
