In the stark, wind-swept landscapes of the Tibetan and Trans-Himalayan plateau, a haunting, resonant call rises over the marshes each summer. It belongs to the black-necked crane, one of the region’s most iconic birds. Standing nearly 1.4 metres tall, the crane cuts a striking figure: a largely whitish-grey body contrasted by a jet-black head and upper neck, splashes of red around the eye, and long, elegant legs built for wading through alpine bogs. Juveniles, cloaked in darker grey with a rusty tinge, shadow their parents as the family moves through meadows blooming with sedges and wildflowers.
Globally, only 13,000 to 15,000 black-necked cranes survive, most on the Qinghai-Tibetan plateau. The International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) lists the species as Near Threatened. In India, particularly in Ladakh, its fragile population is edging downwards. Locally, the bird is known as “cha thung-thung” in Ladakh and “thungdung karma” in Arunachal Pradesh, names that echo through generations of pastoral communities who share the high-altitude wetlands with these cranes.
Every spring, as snow retreats up the mountainsides, pairs return faithfully to the same meadows and riverine marshes where they have nested year after year. This strong site fidelity is tested in a region changing faster than at any time in living memory. The cranes breed at elevations between 2,600 and 4,900 metres, choosing gently sloping wetlands where they build simple nests of grasses and sedges. Here, in what appears to be an endless expanse of sky and stone, their high-pitched, trumpeting calls carry for kilometres, echoing against the barren hills. But even this vast wilderness is tightening around them.
The Hanle wetlands, once home to four breeding pairs, now support only one or two—often breeding unsuccessfully. Habitat loss is severe, driven by expanding human settlements, encroaching agriculture and unregulated construction. The installation of electric poles across the open plains and ambitious proposals for wind and solar farms threaten to fragment and disturb the few nesting sites that remain. Perhaps the most immediate danger comes on four legs. Packs of free-ranging dogs, kept by army units, herders and nomadic families, roam freely across the valley floors. These dogs regularly raid nests, taking eggs and chicks. At several breeding sites, predation has become so intense that entire nesting attempts fail year after year.
Yet dogs are only part of the pressure. In Ladakh, nearly 90 per cent of people depend on livestock. As herds of sheep, goats and yak have grown, overgrazing has degraded delicate wetlands, reducing both nesting habitat and the plants and invertebrates the cranes depend on. Grassland transformation—from traditional pastures to cultivated fields—is accelerating. Even the timing of human activities is changing: the peak tourist season now overlaps with the cranes’ breeding months. Around lakes such as Tsomoriri, Tsokar, Loma and Startsapuk Tso, the disturbance from sightseers and photographers often forces adult cranes off their nests during critical moments.
Layered on top of all this is the planet’s swiftest rising threat. The high-altitude Himalayan region is warming faster than most parts of the world. While milder conditions may briefly reduce winter mortality, melting glaciers and shrinking wetlands pose a long-term existential risk. As the water sources feeding Ladakh’s bogs and marshes diminish, the ecosystems the cranes depend on will fade with them, even though they remain one of the most protected birds in the region. Black-necked crane is listed under Schedule I of the Wild Life (Protection) Act, 1972, and appears in Appendices I and II of the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES). It is also protected under the Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals (CMS). Yet much of its habitat lies outside protected areas, exposed to the full force of ecological and developmental change.
Safeguarding the species requires urgent, coordinated action. Tourism infrastructure must be kept away from nesting and wintering sites. Access to sensitive marshes must be regulated and wetland reclamation halted. Free-ranging dog popula-tions must be eliminated. Key habitats, such as the 108-sq-km Pangchen Schoktsen Lakhar Community Conservation Area, should be legally protected.
This article was originally published as part of the December 16-31, 2025 print edition of Down To Earth