Lorraine Williamson
Transhumance in Spain — the seasonal movement of livestock between mountain and lowland pastures — is one of Europe’s oldest rural traditions. Long before roads or railways shaped the landscape, shepherds and their flocks followed the rhythms of the seasons, climbing to high meadows in summer and returning to warmer plains in winter.
The word itself comes from the Latin trans (“across”) and humus (“land”), literally meaning “across the land.” It describes a way of life that predates written history and flourished during the Middle Ages, when King Alfonso X the Wise founded the Honrado Concejo de la Mesta in 1273. This powerful guild of herders regulated routes, rights of passage, and grazing grounds across the entire Iberian Peninsula.
The great livestock highways of Spain
At the heart of transhumance lies a vast network of vías pecuarias — drovers’ roads that once connected Spain’s grazing lands. Stretching more than 125,000 kilometres, these trails — known as cañadas reales, cordeles, and veredas — linked valleys, plateaus, and mountain ranges.
They were not just practical routes for moving flocks but cultural arteries that spread customs, songs, gastronomy, and knowledge across regions. Today, many of these tracks still exist, often crossing farmland, forests, and even major cities. In Madrid, the Cañada Real Segoviana famously passes through the city centre — a vivid reminder that these thoroughfares were here long before the capital itself.
Ecology and culture hand in hand
Transhumance is now recognised for its ecological importance as much as its cultural one. Moving animals over long distances helps maintain biodiversity, disperses seeds, reduces wildfire risk, and contributes to sustainable land management.
In 2025, Madrid began the process of declaring transhumance a Bien de Interés Cultural — a protected element of intangible heritage. Across Spain, rural communities celebrate this way of life each autumn, when thousands of sheep and goats are herded through towns and villages during festivals such as Madrid’s Fiesta de la Trashumancia.
These scenes — flocks parading past the Royal Palace or down Calle de Alcalá — are more than nostalgic pageantry. They symbolise the coexistence of modernity and tradition, of city and countryside.
Challenges in a changing world
Despite its renewed visibility, transhumance faces serious challenges. Industrial farming, rural depopulation, and the decline of traditional herding have made it increasingly difficult to sustain.
Younger generations often leave the countryside, while those who remain struggle with low income, harsh conditions, and diminishing grazing rights. Encroachments, fencing, and urban expansion threaten the ancient routes that once united the country.
Yet, a new appreciation is emerging. Conservationists, eco-tourism projects, and local cooperatives are reviving sections of the drovers’ roads. For environmentalists, transhumance represents a model of balance between human activity and nature — a slow, circular rhythm that modern agriculture has largely forgotten.
A revival with a modern purpose
Several initiatives are helping to bring transhumance back into Spain’s cultural and environmental spotlight:
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Madrid’s Cultural Heritage status aims to protect over 4,000 kilometres of vías pecuarias in the region, ensuring they remain open and maintained.
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The national project Caminos Trashumantes promotes eco-tourism and educational routes along historic droving trails, highlighting the role of pastoralism in sustainable land use.
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Environmental activism, led by figures like Jesús Garzón Heydt, champions transhumance as a tool for fighting climate change and rural abandonment.
More than a journey — a living legacy
To watch a shepherd guide hundreds of sheep across the plains of Castilla or the hills of Extremadura is to witness history in motion. Transhumance is not a relic of the past but a living dialogue between people, animals, and the land.
It embodies endurance, patience, and respect for nature’s timing. And though its pace may seem slow in the modern world, it carries lessons about sustainability, connection, and belonging that feel more urgent than ever.
So next time the bells of a flock echo through a Spanish valley or a city street, take a moment to listen. That gentle rhythm tells the story of a country that still walks with its past and a tradition that keeps moving forward.
Transhumance in Spain is not just about moving livestock; it’s about moving history itself. Its survival depends on us recognising its value — not as folklore, but as a roadmap for living more sustainably in the present.