Scientists working in the country are grappling with the degradation of more than 100 million hectares of rangeland and exploring ways to restore degraded ecosystems.
I have always been fascinated by the nomadic lifestyles of people across Asia, particularly as portrayed in Chinese and Korean films—the varieties of their cattle, sheep and horses; the vast landscapes of grasses, herbs, and shrubs; the mountains, and the way communities navigate harsh winters.
A quick Google search about Ulaanbaatar, the Mongolian capital and host city of COP17, described it as the world’s coldest capital city. I therefore arrived expecting the snowy, smoky and freezing landscape I had often seen in movies.
Interestingly, it is now summer in Mongolia.
The mornings and evenings can be cold and breezy, while light rain sometimes arrives without warning. But even in summer, the landscape offers a striking reminder of how closely Mongolians live with nature.
As part of the UNCCD media fellowship programme, the UNCCD, in collaboration with the Mongolian government, took the fellows to some of the country’s notable conservation and land-restoration sites.
Over the past 48 hours, other fellows and I, along with UNCCD officials, have spent time at Hustai National Park. This important conservation model offers a practical lens for understanding some of the issues expected to dominate the high-level negotiations at COP17, which begins on Monday.
Located about 96 kilometres west of Ulaanbaatar, Hustai National Park is internationally recognised for the successful reintroduction of the Przewalski’s horse, locally known as the Takhi—the world’s last remaining truly wild horse species.
But Hustai is about more than horses. The host other beautiful vertebrates and invertebrates such as the Golden eagle, Steppe eagle, Himalayan vulture, Amur falcon, Upland buzzard and Siberian sturgeon, among others. The flora of the area comprises mostly birch and aspen trees. Only 4 per cent (1,800 hectares) of the park is covered by forest.
The park demonstrates how biodiversity conservation, community engagement, sustainable pasture management and eco-tourism can work together to restore ecosystems while supporting local livelihoods.
During our stay, we engaged with park rangers, pastoralists and scientists. We camped in beautifully constructed traditional gers and, even if only briefly, experienced the environment in which many Mongolian pastoralists live.
The experience was designed to provide us with a practical understanding of land restoration and sustainable natural-resource management—issues closely aligned with the theme of COP17: “Restoring Land, Restoring Hope.”
According to the park manager, Hustai covers about 50,000 hectares.
During the day, the wild horses move towards the mountains and return to the lower plains in the evening.
But beyond the park lies an even more expansive landscape.
As we travelled through the Mongolian steppes, I saw vast stretches of seemingly uninhabited land and mountains disappearing into the horizon. The landscape was dominated by grasses, with shrubs scattered across the terrain.
Horses, sheep and camels are among the major livestock raised by Mongolian nomadic communities.
Mongolia has nearly 80 million livestock—far more animals than people. The concentration of people in Ulaanbaatar is striking. While the capital is increasingly congested, much of the countryside appears sparsely populated, with enormous stretches of open rangeland separating communities.
Yet beneath this seemingly endless landscape lies a growing challenge: land degradation.
Pastoralists told us that increasingly extreme weather is affecting the grasslands. Overgrazing is also contributing to pasture degradation.
One explanation for the explosion in livestock numbers goes back to Mongolia’s history under the Soviet Union.
The nomads explained that authorities at the time imposed minimum and maximum livestock limits for family units and would confiscate animals when herds exceeded those limits.
That system changed with the collapse of the Soviet Union and the emergence of a free-market economy.
Livestock became a direct measure of household wealth and income. As a result, the number of animals increased dramatically.
More animals meant more income—but also greater pressure on the land.
The result has been overgrazing and degradation across large areas of rangeland.
This is where Hustai’s community-based interventions become particularly interesting.
Rather than simply encouraging pastoralists to reduce their herds, the park is helping communities increase the value and quality of their animal products and by-products.
The idea is simple: earn more from fewer animals rather than continually increasing herd sizes.
Communities living around the park’s buffer zones are also being introduced to alternative livelihood opportunities, including greenhouse farming and other agricultural practices.
