A journey into Nepal’s Limi Valley is always profound. We at the Himalayan Wolves Project first visited the area more than a decade ago and were immediately struck by its high-altitude, wind-sculpted landscapes, and the extraordinary diversity of wildlife inhabiting them: Himalayan wolf (Canis lupus chanco), snow leopard (Panthera uncia), wild yak (Bos mutus), kiang (Equus kiang), Tibetan fox (Vulpes ferrilata), Tibetan gazelle (Procapra picticaudata), Tibetan argali (Ovis ammon hodgsoni), blue sheep (Pseudois nayaur), steppe polecat (Mustela eversmanii), Pallas’s cat (Otocolobus manul), Eurasian lynx (Lynx lynx), Tibetan brown bear (Ursus arctos pruinosus), black-necked crane (Grus nigricollis), Himalayan marmot (Marmota himalayana), various species of pika (Ochotona spp.), and many more.

During 12 years of research expeditions, the valley has revealed to us not only the intimate lives of its wildlife but also the shifting ways in which people use this land. During our most recent fieldwork in July 2025, however, we observed changes that raise serious concern.

Large numbers of goats and sheep were being grazed in areas once dominated by yak herds, directly overlapping with the habitats of the valley’s key carnivores: Himalayan wolf, snow leopard, lynx and brown bear. Goats and sheep are highly vulnerable to predation, and so the potential for escalating conflict between humans and these carnivores is evident.

Shifts in summer pastures

Since our first journey, the high summer pastures of Limi beyond Pigung Lagna — Tibetan for “high-altitude pass” — were primarily grazed by livestock such as yaks, jhoppas (yak-cow hybrids) and horses, besides the wealth of wild ungulates such as kiang, Tibetan gazelle and wild yaks. Until recently, we would often pause to share butter tea with the Limiwas — the people of Limi Valley — in their traditional yak-hair tents, used as summer bases for herding.

This year, those camps had disappeared. Now, the Limi herders had moved into the lower Ardang Valley, abandoning the high summer pastures altogether.

Several factors appear to drive this transition. Outmigration is increasing in Limi, as families seek education, health care and modern amenities in Kathmandu and abroad. Seasonal work in India or China offers more immediate income than traditional herding. Moreover, wild yak bulls frequently enter herding camps in search of domestic females due to a lack of female wild yaks, making even basic herding tasks unsafe. Many households have already sold their female yaks, keeping only a few with their calves under close supervision, while males and jhoppas are left to graze freely.

Large flocks of goats and sheep have also appeared in the high summer pastures of Limi Valley. Near Chyakpalung, we recorded a herd of approximately 400 sheep, with two additional herds observed near Mergyu Valley and Pigung Lagna. Herders estimated the presence of 3,000-4,000 sheep and goats across seven to eight herds in total within these ecologically precious high alpine pastures. Such livestock numbers are unsustainably high given the region’s limited size and the scarcity of vegetation at high altitudes. The local rural municipality levies only a small grazing fee for these small livestock, 3,000 rupees (about $21) for a herd of 100 animals over six months, for example. Such minimal taxation incentivizes herd expansion.

The ecological consequences will be significant. Goats and sheep graze indiscriminately, stripping vegetation and leaving soils exposed to erosion. Their presence also amplifies the risk of carnivore-livestock conflict. Historically, the Limiwas used lethal control measures against wolves, including pit traps (chyadong) and poisoned carcasses. These methods had fallen into disuse once goat and sheep herding declined, but they may regain popularity now.

Signs of ecological strain are already visible. We observed a (sheep and goat) herder’s dog carrying a dead Himalayan marmot, for example. Such herding dogs often range far from the flocks and may increasingly prey on wildlife independently.

Depopulation and changing stewardship

Land-use conflicts extend beyond herders and predators. Ward No. 6 of Namkha rural municipality proposed a three-year ban on goat and sheep grazing, and on medicinal herb collection, above Pigung Lagna. Although initially accepted, the proposal was later withdrawn. The reversal reflects broader socio-demographic change, as leading positions in the rural municipality are now held by politicians from the lower-lying villages. This also speaks volumes in light of another force reshaping the valley: depopulation.

Dzang village now lies abandoned, and residents of Til village are considering relocation, leaving Halji as the last inhabited village. As families move to Kathmandu, Purang (Tibet) or abroad, outsiders from lower valleys are filling the vacuum, gaining increased access to the high summer pastures. Without the stewardship of the Limiwas — who for generations managed these fragile environments — the land is more likely to be used intensively and unsustainably and thereby threaten the rich and unique biodiversity of the area.

In Ngin Valley, once rich in blue sheep, we found the slopes empty. On our arrival day, we encountered hunters from outside Limi, concealed among rocks with firearms and a hunting camp established, to target blue sheep. Only the intervention of a young Limi resident, who threatened to contact police, caused them to retreat. Such incidents highlight the growing vulnerability of wildlife in such landscapes abandoned by the protection of traditional local stewardship.

Between roads and wilderness

From 2021 to 2024, the Himalayan Wolves Project collaborated with local communities on a project titled “Fostering a sustainable and long-term effective human–wildlife coexistence in the Nepalese Himalayas.” Traditional yak herding routes once extended through Ngin, Sakya and Gyau valleys, but in recent years Gyau Valley had been abandoned by herders, creating an opportunity to designate it as a wildlife refuge. Community members supported the proposal.

That opportunity has now been compromised. In May 2025, construction began on a wide motor road through Gyau Valley. By July 2025, 12 kilometers (7.5 miles) had been completed, with plans for an additional 15 kilometers (9.3 miles) to reach Shiva Kund, a lake newly identified (and named) by Indian pilgrims as sacred. Curiously, local elders had no prior knowledge of this lake. Authorities anticipate a surge of religious tourism once the road is complete.

Gyau Valley provides critical habitat for Himalayan wolves, wild yaks, kiang and, until recently, a pair of black-necked cranes. When we visited in July 2025, the cranes were absent, and only a few kiang remained. Road construction noise and disturbance are likely contributors to this negative development. En route to Limi Lapcha, we observed motorbikes startling a herd of kiang into a panic, exemplifying how increased access already disrupts wildlife.

The Gyau-Shiva Kund road fragments habitats, increases exposure to poaching, and its peak use for religious tourism coincides with the June-August breeding season of most local wildlife species. Based on previous observations, wild yaks — particularly wary of humans — may be severely affected. Tourist waste has also become a problem, as illustrated at Limi Lapcha, where garbage surrounded prayer areas despite the presence of a disposal pit.

The ecological costs of the roads are evident. The key question now is whether they can be managed in a way that provides socioeconomic benefits to local residents while minimizing ecological harm. One possible approach is to regulate them as controlled wildlife-viewing trails for high-end wildlife tourism, while strictly prohibiting movement off the road.

Uniqueness at risk

Limi Valley and its high alpine pasturelands represent a unique high-altitude ecosystem where rich biodiversity intersects with centuries-old cultural traditions. Yet, the rapid introduction of large goat and sheep herds, coupled with the expansion of roads into previously undisturbed wildlife habitats, places the ecosystem under unprecedented strain.

Without proactive management that balances local livelihoods, infrastructure development, and biodiversity conservation, the valley’s extraordinary biological and cultural heritage may be lost within a generation. The urgency for action is clear.

Naresh Kusi is a Ph.D. scholar (University of Inland, Norway) studying Himalayan wolves in Nepal and is the program director at the Himalayan Wolves Project. Geraldine Werhahn is co-chair of the IUCN SSC Canid Specialist Group and director of the Himalayan Wolves Project.

Banner image: Blue sheep (Pseudois nayaur). Image courtesy of Sharadgurung7711 via Wikimedia Commons.

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