Chasing Shadows: 40 Days at a Snow Leopard Research Camp “I’m a postdoc at the Swedish University of Agricultural Sciences, where I recently received a 4-year grant to study how large carnivores behave around human activities. My research focuses on three species—snow leopards, brown bears, and grey wolves—to understand whether these animals make calculated decisions when approaching human settlements. Essentially, do they weigh the benefits of finding food (like livestock) against the risk of being killed by humans?
I’m collaborating with three established research projects that have been tracking these animals and studying their hunting patterns for years. Through this work, I became involved with the Snow Leopard Trust’s Long-Term Ecological Study in Tost, Mongolia. We’ll analyze GPS data from collared snow leopards to better understand the relationship between these cats and local people, specifically examining what drives snow leopards to prey on livestock of herding communities.
April 24 – following from the right distance (cluster checks)
We arrived at Snow Leopard Trust base camp after almost two days of travel across the steppes of southern Mongolia. These incredible Tost mountains will be our home for more than a month.
Snow leopards in Tost frequently rest up high, close to mountain peaks. Reaching those GPS clusters recorded by their collars is often exhausting. As you get closer, you look for signs of the snow leopard and try to understand why it passed through there and chose that spot. It appears to me that, like their domestic cat cousins, snow leopards might love high places where they can watch everything from above. From there, they can see if prey is nearby, or if another leopard or a shepherd with goats is passing through.
It’s a bit like playing a smart detective game, trying to figure out what happened when the snow leopard was in that place. Sometimes it’s hard to tell and you can only guess. Other times, clear signs are left behind, telling the story step by step. You imagine a beautiful snow leopard moving among the rocks, stepping silently, so agile in this rocky landscape that’s almost impossible for us humans to navigate.
April 25 – outsmarted by our wild relatives
To me, animals seem to understand patience far better than we humans do. Even though we do our best to observe, study, and understand them without disturbing them, it’s likely they do the same with us. They probably watch and study our movements around them, trying to figure out who we are and whether we’re a threat. We follow their tracks, collect their droppings, spy on them with binoculars, scopes and place camera traps in strategic spots to understand their behavior and social lives.
One moment in particular during these 40 days reminded me of how much we watch each other, and how often our wild cousins outsmart us. It was a hot midday, Gustaf and I were out visiting a GPS cluster from M23, a snow leopard we’ve been studying closely through cluster checks during this spring field trip. The day before, M23 had spent the afternoon on a mountaintop before moving on, so we went to check what he had been doing there. We explored the area and found signs of his presence (scats, scrapes on the ground). He most likely rested on the rocks. Tired and hot, we sat down on those rocks for a couple of minutes, filled out our protocol, and looked across the valley. We joked that M23 might be watching us from the peaks right in front of us. Then we hiked back down.
When we returned to base camp, Örjan greeted us with a smile. He told us the new GPS points had just come in—and, sure enough, M23 had been exactly where we imagined him: across the valley, just 500 meters away from us. He had spent the entire day resting up there. A few days later, we visited that new cluster of GPS locations and found a beautiful bed of small stones and matted grass, with a few snow leopard hairs. It was sheltered from the wind and perfectly positioned at the top of the ridge, giving M23 a perfect view of the whole valley—and the two funny humans wandering below.
April 30 – ibex rocks
We are attempting to capture ibex, continuing a long-term effort started many years ago by this research project. They have tried many different methods and tricks to attract them but water seems to be the main way to succeed. It is not only the water itself but a very subtle and complex combination of conditions that can make an ibex capture successful, including the stage of the vegetation in the mountains, the routine of finding a reliable source of water in that spot, plus many other factors that increase the challenge. The team built a box trap using a model from Gran Paradiso National Park, now placed in Tost. Hopefully, this will be one of the keys to capturing this fascinating mountain ungulate. We are in place, with our radios and capture equipment at hand, ready to be used in case an ibex gets in the box trap to drink. The wait feels endless. I keep looking at the same mountain slope, scanning it with my binoculars – rock by rock, meter by meter – searching for any sign of the ibex. It’s a test of patience and determination.
Every moment, I hope they will appear. I start to imagine: “It will come out from behind that sharp rock, or maybe from behind that bush. I’m sure it will show up on the next scan with the binoculars.” But nothing. The rocks are always the same, same place, same shape. Only the angle of the sunlight changes, casting new shadows that trick my eyes. They make me think I’ve seen an ibex, but it’s just the same rock from two hours ago. The complex geology of this place, with all its different colors of rocks, creates animal-like shapes – but they’re just rocks, optical illusions.
May 1 – the night of the snow leopard
The sun starts to set, and slowly we shift from golden light to the hour of the blue mountains, when the different layers of peaks overlap like stage curtains, getting ready for the night’s show. This is when the snow leopard’s hour begins. As the light fades, it’s their time to move, to cross through areas that are too exposed and risky during the day.
In the valley, between the mountains, we’ve set traps to capture the leopards that pass through. These are passage zones, transition points, the borders between different leopard territories—strategic places to move from one peak to another across this rugged landscape. It takes a lot of care and experience to place the traps in just the right spots—on trails and corners where a leopard might step and place its paw exactly where the trap is. It’s a great privilege to be here with Örjan and Gustaf, to watch their careful work and be a small part of it.
When that last bit of sunlight fades from the roof of the ger, your heart starts to beat faster—because in that moment, the chances of capturing a snow leopard suddenly rise. Dinner is in the making, the atmosphere is relaxed, but in the background, like a soundtrack, everything is more than ready in case the alarm goes off. The wait stretches into the night. During the first few nights, I had trouble falling asleep, even with the deep exhaustion that new places and new adventures put on my body. I was waiting, ready to meet my first snow leopard.
May 9 – fragile realities
It’s incredible to be immersed in this reality thanks to the research project I’ve just joined. So many years of work, dedication, collaboration, and the careful weaving of presence, relationships and trust.
Last night, after a beautiful dinner shared by Swedes, Mongolians, British (Fiona, the British Ambassador, and Olli), and one Italian, I stepped out of the ger to catch the sunset light—and I was moved by the sight of the mountains turning blue in the fading light. I felt part of something much bigger: a major effort to protect the snow leopard and support the local communities of livestock herders.
As Bayara said this morning, right after a successful snow leopard capture, this research project with collared snow leopards teaches us so much about their behavior and ecology, which until recently was largely unknown. That knowledge plays a vital role in understanding how to coexist with this animal who shares the mountains with herders, two fragile realities living alongside each other.
May 12 – Entering the snow leopard’s mind
Snow leopards are habitat specialists. They are not satisfied with just any landscape, like a wolf might be, but are closely tied to a particular environment: the mountains.
We don’t know exactly why, but we believe it’s linked to their behavior, ecology and the way they live. Snow leopards move through peaks and valleys, exploiting the morphology of the landscape to spot prey and stay out of sight, to hunt and to rest. Every part of the landscape plays a role in their lives. They use high ridges to travel, rest safely, and raise cubs in sheltered dens. Steep slopes make excellent hunting grounds, where the snow leopard ambushes its prey and chases it down into narrow ravines lower in the valley, where the prey can lose speed—and with it, its life. These narrow canyons also offer easy passage and small natural water sources.
But how do we study all of this? How do we come to know where snow leopards hunt, rest, make dens, and raise their young? There are different techniques, and among them, GPS collars give us detailed and incredibly valuable information. They open a window into the life of such an elusive species, often called the ghost of the mountains.
So, where do you start? It’s a slow process, with many steps that build on each other. As Örjan told me, you first have to understand how snow leopards move through the mountains, their travel routes, and how they use rocks and natural trails to mark their territory. Even before building and placing any traps, everything started with exploring these mountains, looking for traces of the snow leopard’s passage. It was a strategy built on patience and time—a lot of time. You can’t search the entire landscape, so you choose the most likely areas, drive in as far as you can, and then hike.
Year after year, they’ve learned to enter the mind of the snow leopard, to understand where it might walk. Trapping is a craft that blends animal behavior and careful prediction; a few centimeters can make all the difference. There are two key parts: the macro and the micro habitat. The macro habitat is the general area, the travel routes that snow leopards use to move through the mountains, for example, a valley that cuts between peaks. The microhabitat is the exact spot where you place the trap. There have to be signs that snow leopards use that space, and it needs to be a safe location, without sharp rocks, so the animal won’t get hurt if caught. The trap must sit on a natural path where a snow leopard would choose to pass. These are almost always right up against a rock wall on the side of a canyon or valley, where snow leopards leave signs: urine, scats, or scrapes on the ground. After years of experience, failed attempts and successful ones, they have learned how to find the ideal combination of micro and macro.”
Thanks to Cecilia for sharing her experience with us. This fieldwork in Tost represents more than just data collection—it’s a testament to the power of long-term research partnerships and the patient dedication required to understand some of our planet’s most elusive species. We’re not only advancing our scientific understanding of snow leopards, but also working toward solutions that support both wildlife conservation and the communities that share these stunning landscapes.
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Photos: Cecilia Di Bernardi and Oliver Wearn for SLT
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