Transhumance: What's Old is New Again

For thousands of years, people, animals and mountainous landscapes have taken part in a solemn but merry dance of transhumance. This form of pastoralism finds herders moving their flocks of livestock up to mountain pastures in the summer and down to valleys in the winter.

The details vary from place to place, with outliers like Siberia, where the movement of reindeer occurs between upper latitudes and lower latitudes. But the general concept and outcome remains the same.

The practices gives the animals herders are working with a varied diet, and prevents certain areas from being overtaxed, but it also makes for healthier herds and a more vibrant and biodiverse ecosystem. There are other benefits as well: anyone who has tasted an egg from a chicken raised on pasture, a burger from a cow raised on grasslands or cheese from a herd of mountain goats can attest to the superior flavors and textures that emerge from animals that move around, socialize and forage for food outside.

But should we be using the past or present tense? This method of herding encompasses such a delicate and profound way of life, the socio-economic system that springs from it, which includes foodways, crafts, community festivities and a distinct approach to resource management, it has been declared an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity by UNESCO.

And while it still happens in certain regions, it’s on the decline, with routes disappearing in countries where transhumance thrived for hundreds of years. There are movements to preserve the old ways—and the phenomenal cheeses that emerge when livestock dine on hundreds of different grasses and herbs.

Adopt-an-Alp pairs U.S. retailers with Swiss cheesemakers producing banger mountain käse like Vacherin Fribougeouis and Berner Hobelkäse AOP, both of which exude the sharp, tangy, wildness that can only be found in mountain cheeses. (And yes, you can do your part in cultural preservation by purchasing and consuming as many of these treasures whenever and wherever you find them).

Transhumance 2.0

Interestingly, a modern form of transhumance, with its own rhythms, practices and philosophy is emerging in the place where old ideas go to get new: California.

Sarah Keiser, a community organizer and grazing advocate, became one of the leaders of the new movement after seeing multiple problems in her community, and wondering if she could begin to solve a few with her own “flerd.”

“I grew up in the Midwest, where everything felt very community and neighborhood oriented,” Keiser recalls. “Here in California, the way of living is very individualized.”

But Keiser, who had a herd of goats and flock of sheep—a “flerd”—from which she produced cheese, raw fleece and fiber, yarn, goat milk soap, creams and other products, began to notice how long the grass was in her neighborhood, where most people had between two and 20 acres of land.

“So I just started asking people if I could graze my animals on their land,” Keiser recalls. “I explained that I would manage the entire process, and that in return, they’d get free lawncare, healthier soils and fire protection.”

As transhumance practitioners thousands of years ago learned, a herd of munching livestock not only mow grass neatly, they eliminate fire risk by eating dry and high grasses and underbrush, and rejuvenate and aerate soil with their hooves. They even help sequester carbon.

Keiser knew that, going in. What she wasn’t expecting is how much her flerd would bring her neighborhood together.

“They loved watching the goats and sheep,” Keiser says. “For the first time, people who had lived next to each for years were meeting each other. We all became friends. They loved that they could benefit from the animals, but didn’t have the responsibility of caring for them full-time.”

She saw the potential for a greater movement, especially as wildfires ravaged Northern California, multiple years in a row.

“The project took on a life of its own,” Keiser says. “When people began to see the potential of using animals to help protect the land they live on, build a safer fire ecoystem, and bring the community together, with the side benefits of better meat and dairy, it grew faster than I could have ever imagined.”

Keiser applied and received a grant from the Globetrotters Foundation to create Community Grazing cooperatives in which ruminants are led by a herder, but shared among neighbors to help them steward their land and connect with each other. As the founder of the Wild Oat Hollow, she provides land stewardship consulting and animal husbandry services for other holistic herders.

“In each place, it’s different, and that’s part of the beauty,” Keiser says. “I really just try to empower individual herders with the tools and knowledge they need, because every place and community is different. And they know their area best.”

Project manager at Butte County Fire Safety Council Sarah Jo McDowell says that Keiser’s mentorship was a game changer for their entire community.

“When I moved to California I started taking classes in range land management and targeted grazing,” she says. “It was clear that small ruminants are a great way to keep land safe.”

She got her own herd of goats after wildfires in 2020. She grazed the goats across 40 acres of hillside in a burn scar.

“But I quickly realized it involved a lot more than just putting animals out to graze,” she says. “Honestly, it was a shit show. My dogs got out and ran for three weeks, and the goats had no protection. I was ready to give up.”

McDowell happened to meet another grazer just as she was set to call it quits. She opted to move the herd to flatter ground, and started learning how to create and move proper fencing and find a range of forage for her herd.

“And then I discovered Sarah Keiser,” McDowell says. “She really just gave me a template of what they did in Sonoma, and suggested that I create a similar model here, but suited for our needs.”

Like Keiser, McDowell has found that her moving herd is not only welcome, it has brought entire neighborhoods together.

“People actually bring chairs outside their houses and hang out, watching the goats graze,” she says. “It’s like a community meeting. This is so much bigger than just grazing and fire reduction. This is building small villages within larger communities through connection to animals. It’s silly, it’s fun. It saves live. And it makes for incredible meat and dairy.”

Now McDowell is mentoring others who are creating their own small nomadic herding tribes.

The Flerd of the Future

Transhumance Festival photo credit Paige Green

Keiser, meanwhile, continues to receive funding for community grazing initiatives from the Globetrotters, several other individuals and companies, and several cities, including Petaluma, which piloted the program in a bid to create a safer fire environment and meet the city’s goal of being carbon neutral by 2030.

She has spearheaded around 25 coops around the state, and also served on the committee of the Transhumance Festival, founded in 2018 by grazers who wanted to bring Pastorism back to Petaluma.

This year, the free public festival was held in April, and featured hundreds of sheep and goats, their herders, and demonstrations and discussions around culture, soil, and land stewardship. The real draw is an opportunity for the public to herd the flock from Petaluma fairgrounds to Steamer Landing Park.

“It’s wonderful to see the entire community come together, and to see the joy everyone has in this ritual,” Keiser says. “Especially with the kids, because they’re the ones who will guide the movement in the future.”

Sheep grazing at the Transhumance Festival photo credit Paige Green

Are animals raised outside in the open air where they can move and eat tasty, novel morsels happier than the ones who spend their lives in a box? Difficult to say for certain, but assumptions—notwithstanding very human-style psychological projections—can be made.

What we do know for certain is that these animals, permitted to move around and eat tasty things under the sunshine, do an invaluable service to our communities, making them safer and closer than they would be otherwise—with a side of lusher, richer cheese and meat.