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In the high-altitude rangelands of Muguthang Valley in Lachen, where Dokpa yak herders live, the landscape appears serene, with open pastures and grazing herds.
On a crisp May morning in 2025, I saw a young herder rush a yak and her newborn calf into a corral (fenced enclosure). When I mentioned my work on pastoralism and snow leopards, she interrupted: “These dogs won’t let us live in peace. Snow leopard predation is not as bad as these dogs.” She pointed to a six-month-old calf standing frozen and said: “They attacked it yesterday, tore out its intestines. With no veterinary care, we pushed them back in and stitched it ourselves. I don’t know if it will survive.” In the distance, a pack of dogs patrolled the pasture.
The predator we don’t talk about
Across the Himalayas, conservation narratives often centre the snow leopard (Panthera uncia) as a symbol of wilderness and conflict, but Sikkim’s herders experience a different reality. Livestock losses are increasingly driven not by wild predators but by free-ranging (stray) dogs, which are causing significant ecological and economic disruption in high-altitude landscapes, as numerous researchers, including Chandrika Home have pointed out.
“There are so many dogs. Who do we complain to? Who bears the loss?” a yak herder said. These free-ranging dogs hunt in packs and attack livestock more frequently than wild predators do, targeting newborn calves as well as adult yaks. “The moment we look away, the dogs come.”
For herders, losses are not just economic but deeply personal and ecological, disrupting the rangeland system, say Singh et al. in Ecology, Economy and Society–the INSEE Journal (2022). With an adult yak worth up to 1 lakh rupees, even a single loss is significant, while multiple losses can destabilise a household.
Neither wild nor domestic
The term “feral dog” is commonly used but does not fully capture what is happening in these landscapes. As ecologist Abi Tamim Vanak notes, truly feral dogs are independent of humans, a condition rare in India. Most free-ranging domestic dogs are dependent on human systems while they also hunt like predators. In North Sikkim, herders link their growing numbers to the increasing human presence in remote areas. “When the army moves to border areas, dogs often follow them from outside hoping for food, and later, they are abandoned,” one herder explained.
“There is also food waste from settlements. The dogs feed on it, and their numbers grow.” Over time, these dogs move beyond settlements, establishing new territories in wilderness areas and forming packs that operate much like wild predators, according to a paper by Dorji et al. in the Bhutan Journal of Natural Resources and Development (2023).
An ecosystem out of balance
The impact of these dogs extends beyond the lives of yaks and herders. Herders report that dogs also hunt wild prey, including blue sheep (Pseudois nayaur), Himalayan ibex (Capra sibirica), and pika (Ochotona sp.), which are part of the snow leopard’s prey base. This creates a ripple effect. As wild prey declines, the snow leopard may turn more towards yaks.
Herders can often distinguish dog kills from those by snow leopards, but the increasing loss of livestock is very concerning. “We know the difference,” one herder said. “But now everything feels like a problem.” What emerges is a cycle of increasing pressure on livestock, wildlife, and the fragile ecosystem stability/balance.
A way of life under pressure
These challenges coincide with a rapid decline in yak pastoralism. “Earlier, there were 90 yak herders. Now there are only 17,” one herder shared. Younger generations are leaving for other livelihoods, while ageing herders manage remote landscapes with limited support.
“Our herder, who was taking care of my yak herd, ran away… this is the season when yaks give birth,” one herder said. “I heard a calf in our herd was killed, and nobody was there to check. I am old; I don’t know who will take care of them now.”
Seasonal migration heightens risk. In summer, yaks graze unsupervised in remote areas, while in winter, weakened by scarce forage, they are easier targets. “If we don’t reach them in time, the dogs will,” he added.
Who bears the loss?
Yak herding, both an economic activity and a cultural system of ecological stewardship (sustainable use of rangelands), is increasingly undermined by land-use change, labour shortages, climate variability, and expanding human presence, according to Rai et al. in the journal Pastoralism (2023). While compensation exists for wildlife-related losses, the process is slow, restrictive, and expensive due to transport costs. “By the time we get the money, we spend more than that just travelling and doing the paperwork,” one herder explained. There is no compensation for livestock losses caused by stray or free-ranging dogs. Moreover, most grazing areas fall within protected zones, where compensation is hard to access, and dog-related losses are not covered, deepening a growing sense of abandonment. This points to a broader crisis driven by ecological change, governance gaps, and the decline of pastoral livelihoods, reflecting concerns highlighted as part of the International Year of Rangelands and Pastoralists 2026 (IYRP). This UN observance year aims to raise awareness of the vital importance of rangelands and of pastoralists as their frontline custodians.
Living with what we create
In parts of Lachung, The Himalaya Initiative by ATREE, through a Royal Enfield Social Mission-funded project, piloted interventions like reinforced livestock enclosures (corrals) and solar-powered lights to reduce nighttime attacks. While herders say these can deter opportunistic predators, including dogs, they remain partial solutions.
The deeper issue persists. Free-ranging dog populations are a byproduct of human settlements, driven by waste, mobility, abandonment, and governance gaps, requiring coordinated, cross-sectoral action and accountability.
“These kinds of projects come and go,” one herder said quietly. “But we are the ones who stay and face the losses.”
Despite efforts by government departments and organisations, such as supplementary feed, veterinary services, and dog sterilisation, the interventions remain limited in scale, resources, and continuity.
A blurred boundary
In the high Himalayas, the line between wild and domestic is increasingly blurred, yet the need for spatial separation is becoming more urgent. Animals that once guarded yaks have become predators, reshaping species interactions and intensifying conflict. While the snow leopard dominates the imagination, it is the unmanaged, growing dog population that defines the everyday struggles for pastoral communities.
As attention focuses on IYRP 2026, their reality forces a difficult question:
When the predators are of our own making, who takes responsibility?
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