Himalayan wolf-dog hybrids emerge as a threat to wolves and people

There is no doubt. The grayish coat, the effortless trot across the soft snow, the way he stops, stalks, then strikes, snatching a marmot and finishing it with a single bite: he’s a wolf.

This is what I observe at almost 5,000 meters above sea level here, in the Indian-administered part of Ladakh, a region of the Himalayas. Life up high is tough, but these wolves are part of a group of mammals that eke out a living, alongside snow leopards, Himalayan brown bears and Tibetan foxes.

Himalayan wolves are well adapted to the low oxygen and other harsh conditions found at altitude, and are thought to be the oldest lineage of the species (Canis lupus). Watching him make quick work of the groundhog as a blue spring day turns gray, it’s obvious they are survivors, but their future is in danger. These mountains are warming twice as fast as the global average. Mix in rapid urbanization, waste, pollution, and wary farmers and ranchers, and it’s easy to see the threats.

Now there’s a new one: wild dogs. There are up to 25,000 dogs in Ladakh, compared to just a few hundred wolves. Over the past decade, these dogs – both pets and strays – have formed packs and headed to the mountains where they hunt the same prey as their wilder relatives. – began to breed with wolves and create a new hybrid animal.

“We call it khipshang,” says Tsewang Namgail, director of the Snow Leopard Conservancy India Trust, which studies the mammals in Ladakh. The term is a portmanteau of chiwhich means dog in Ladakhi, and Shangkuwhich means wolf.

“People have started to realize this in the last five to 10 years,” says Namgail. “It’s not really a wolf, nor really a dog. It’s a cross.”

Larger than a dog, but smaller than a wolf, this hybrid is known for leading packs of dogs, has a tawny coat, and the potential to outcompete other carnivores.

“And they are not afraid of humans,” explains Mohammad Imran, a Ladakhi filmmaker and naturalist.

Hybrids are also bold enough to enter a village and kill any livestock they see. “He has the fearlessness and habituation of a dog and the killing instinct of a wolf, and it’s a deadly combination,” says Namgail.

Dog bites, even attacks and deaths, are increasingly common here, with four to five cases of dog bites every day at the hospital in Leh, the regional capital, according to Namgail. At least four residents have been killed by dogs this year, a problem that experts say could worsen due to hybridization. That’s why they are considered a threat to both wolves and humans, says Namgail, who fears the hybrids will dilute the wolf population and endanger the future of local wolves. He estimates that there are currently around 80 hybrids spread across nearly 60,000 square kilometers of the Indian territory of Ladakh.

The hybrid is such a new phenomenon that no formal studies have been conducted and little is known beyond anecdotal observations. What we do know is that the rise of khipshang is directly linked to the explosion of wild dogs. Sterilization of dogs is illegal in Ladakh and Buddhist beliefs in the region disapprove of any harm to nature. With a history of frontier warfare in the region, dogs provide a first line of defense for military bases, as barking alerts troops and soldiers often feed the dogs. But this permissive attitude affects other species, with cases of rabies and distemper reportedly causing a decline in the number of foxes and wolves.

With so many dogs and so few wolves, man’s best friend could become the dominant canine in the world’s highest mountains, mirroring environments like Italy and North America, where red and oriental wolves are increasingly diluted by hybridization.

When wolves and humans are forced to share space, competition for resources arises, as does interaction with dogs, says Carter Niemeyer, a trapper who captured reintroduced Canadian wolves in Yellowstone and Idaho in the 1990s. That’s why the widespread threat of species dilution leads him to insist that wolfdogs should not “be allowed to procreate and run wild.” wild. We must keep the wolves pure.

A few hours after seeing the wolf, we saw a pack of dogs at the side of the road. Some sleep on the asphalt despite the freezing wind; others beg for leftovers. We stand aside and watch, ears back, the different posture.

Morup Namgail, a wildlife photographer I travel with, wonders if it could be a khipshang. He has seen khipshang across Ladakh and has even photographed what he thinks is another rare hybrid: a cross between a fox and a dog.

Two years ago, Namgail and I watched a pack of dogs chase a mother snow leopard after killing an ibex. The dog on the road reminds me of the lead dog that day – something about his boldness, his build. I remember he didn’t bark or look scared. Maybe it wasn’t a dog?

What Namgail is sure of, he tells me as we leave, is that the khipshang symbolize these rapidly changing mountains. No one knows what’s next, but we do know that wolves learn and teach behavior. He fears that khipshang will not only teach the dogs to hunt, but that they will start behaving like dogs and come into conflict with us.

“As these are new species, they don’t have their place in the chain, like other animals, and it is very fragile to disturb,” explains Namgail. “That makes them dangerous. To all of us.”