editorial

Hundreds of black-necked cranes descend on the Phobjikha Valley each winter before returning to the Tibetan Plateau at the end of the season.

Bhutan Phobjikha Valley &#8211; Black-Necked Cranes Hero

Words and photographs by Ian Trower 
September 28, 2026
Taking count of Bhutan’s “birds of heaven” in the wetlands of Phobjikha.
<figure id="attachment_163505" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-163505" style="width: 1200px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-full wp-image-163505" src="https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Landscape-with-Fields-and-Farmhouses.jpg" alt="Farmhouses and tilled potato fields in central Bhutan’s Phobjikha Valley." width="1200" height="838" srcset="https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Landscape-with-Fields-and-Farmhouses.jpg 1200w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Landscape-with-Fields-and-Farmhouses-300x210.jpg 300w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Landscape-with-Fields-and-Farmhouses-1024x715.jpg 1024w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Landscape-with-Fields-and-Farmhouses-768x536.jpg 768w" sizes="auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px" /><figcaption id="caption-attachment-163505" class="wp-caption-text">Farmhouses and tilled potato fields in central Bhutan’s Phobjikha Valley.</figcaption></figure>
It’s 5:30 on a February morning in the Phobjikha Valley. Anticipation is palpable, but for a few panicky moments we lose our bearings in the frigid darkness. Then Tshering Zangmo, a staffer with Bhutan’s Royal Society for Protection of Nature (RSPN), swings her flashlight around and the bird hide materializes like an apparition. The rest of us—my guide, driver, two community volunteers, and I—follow her inside. We’re here to count black-necked cranes, out there somewhere in the gloom.
A winding five-hour drive east of Thimphu in central Bhutan, Phobjikha is one of the Himalayan kingdom’s most beautiful glacial valleys, its densely forested slopes cradling an expansive Ramsar-designated wetland. It is also a vital wintering habitat for black-necked cranes, which make the arduous journey from their summer breeding grounds on the Tibetan Plateau. I’ve come here to learn more about these iconic birds and how local communities are helping to protect them.
Known locally as thrung thrung karmo, the black-necked crane is deeply revered in Bhutan and carries rich symbolism. My guide, Dshering Wangchuk, speaks to this as our SUV bumps and grinds along a dusty road past the centuries-old Gangtey Monastery. “The cranes circle the monastery three times when arriving and leaving the valley,” she says, suggesting the birds are practicing an avian version of kora, or ritual circumambulation. Whether this is fact or myth, I hear it repeated numerous times during my stay in the valley. “We call them ‘birds of heaven,’ and they represent longevity. They are given to us from God,” Dshering continues, her voice resonant with emotion.
With their elegantly subdued plumage and crimson crowns, the cranes are cherished not just in Bhutan. Conservation efforts across China and the Tibetan Plateau have helped the global black necked crane population grow from around 6,000 in the early 1990s to more than 17,000 today. Bhutan’s 2024–25 winter census recorded 709 individuals, the highest since nationwide monitoring began four decades ago. Most spend the winter in the Phobjikha Valley, where their annual arrival is celebrated with a festival in the flagstone courtyard of Gangtey Monastery.
My first stop is the RSPN-run Black-necked Crane Visitor Centre, a decagonal building of white washed walls and traditional Bhutanese timber work overlooking the wetlands at the heart of the valley. Information boards and a short film outline the various challenges facing black-necked cranes, while panoramic, wood-framed windows on the upper floor frame views across farm-fringed marshes and meandering streams.
Karma Lodhen Wangmo, the young conservation biologist who oversees the facility, is blunt when it comes to threats to the habitat. “Agricultural practices. Potatoes are the main commercial crop in this valley, so farmers use more synthetic fertilizers to produce bigger yields.” The center has spent years educating local farmers about the long-term impacts of these chemicals, and Bhutan’s National Soil Services Centre regularly monitors soil quality. Yet Karma believes that even small amounts of such fertilizers are harmful to the valley’s fragile ecosystem.
On the bright side, Phobjikha is spared the usual human-wildlife conflict over crops, because by the time the cranes begin arriving in late October, farmers have already finished harvesting. “The timing is pretty much perfect,” Karma says. “The birds only feed on agricultural leftovers.” She also cites a homestay program that allows tourists to experience life on a working Bhutanese farm as a way of easing the financial pressure on households that rely heavily on their potato crop.
Before we part, Karma extends an invitation to join the monthly crane count at dawn tomorrow from the hide across the valley. This is the final count of the season and an opportunity for the community to come together before saying farewell to the cranes.
<figure id="attachment_163503" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-163503" style="width: 1200px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-full wp-image-163503" src="https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Gangtey-Monastery-and-Black-Necked-Cranes.jpg" alt="Gangtey Monastery and its namesake village sit on a ridge above the Phobjikha Valley; black-necked cranes foraging on the valley floor." width="1200" height="800" srcset="https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Gangtey-Monastery-and-Black-Necked-Cranes.jpg 1200w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Gangtey-Monastery-and-Black-Necked-Cranes-300x200.jpg 300w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Gangtey-Monastery-and-Black-Necked-Cranes-1024x683.jpg 1024w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Gangtey-Monastery-and-Black-Necked-Cranes-768x512.jpg 768w" sizes="auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px" /><figcaption id="caption-attachment-163503" class="wp-caption-text">Left to right: Gangtey Monastery and its namesake village sit on a ridge above the Phobjikha Valley; black-necked cranes foraging on the valley floor.</figcaption></figure>
<figure id="attachment_163504" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-163504" style="width: 1200px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-full wp-image-163504" src="https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Guide-Dshering-Wangchuk-and-Crane-Artwork-on-Farmhouse-Wall.jpg" alt="Guide Dshering Wangchuk; a depiction of the bird on a farmhouse wall." width="1200" height="800" srcset="https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Guide-Dshering-Wangchuk-and-Crane-Artwork-on-Farmhouse-Wall.jpg 1200w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Guide-Dshering-Wangchuk-and-Crane-Artwork-on-Farmhouse-Wall-300x200.jpg 300w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Guide-Dshering-Wangchuk-and-Crane-Artwork-on-Farmhouse-Wall-1024x683.jpg 1024w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Guide-Dshering-Wangchuk-and-Crane-Artwork-on-Farmhouse-Wall-768x512.jpg 768w" sizes="auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px" /><figcaption id="caption-attachment-163504" class="wp-caption-text">Left to right: Guide Dshering Wangchuk; a depiction of the bird on a farmhouse wall.</figcaption></figure>
A 4:30 a.m. wake-up call precedes a 20-minute drive to the drop-off point nearest the hide. Trampling across the frost-covered ground and avoiding frozen piles of cow dung, we soon reach where it should be. After several frantic sweeps of a flash light, the hide suddenly emerges from the darkness, a bare but welcome refuge.
The six of us take shelter from the early morning chill and prepare for the count—or, in my case, photography. We are one of three groups that have ventured out before dawn to tally the birds.
Squawks and clucks from the cranes begin drifting through the gloom, building to a crescendo before subsiding once again. “Maybe they were disturbed by a predator,” suggests Tshering Zangmo, our chief crane counter.
At the visitor center the previous day, I learned that the valley’s predators include Himalayan red foxes and, more surprisingly, leopards. Night-vision cameras have been deployed in the past, and there are plans to reinstall them to monitor potential predators and help locate any cranes injured in an attack. “Apart from that, we let nature take its course,” Karma had explained.
Dawn reveals the valley in all its glory and the counting begins in earnest. Tshering and a colleague peer through their optics, furiously recording every crane they spot. An occasional bird glides from one pond to another, then two or three. Before long, our job is done; the increasing movement makes further counting impossible. Back at the visitor center, our tally will be combined with those from the other two groups.
The next day, Dshering and I take a leisurely stroll through one of the villages at the head of the valley. With chalet-like farmhouses perched on a slope below the forest, it resembles a rustic corner of Switzerland. Recently plowed fields surround the settlement. Along a muddy lane, we spot two women bent beneath the weight of baskets strapped to their backs. On closer inspection, we see they are carrying fertilizer to a nearby field.
With Dshering translating, one of them, Gyem, explains that the farm primarily grows potatoes, alternating with turnips. The cranes only pick worms from the soil, steering clear of the crops. The fertilizer she is hauling is organic, made from cow dung and pine needles collected from the forest; it will be spread after the turnips are harvested. “We used to grow mustard, but a lot of pesticides were needed to kill the insects. So we don’t grow it anymore,” she adds. It’s reassuring to witness the RSPN’s work being taken to heart by the farmers.
When I ask about her feelings toward the cranes, her answer echoes those I’ve heard from other Bhutanese. “I feel happy when I see the birds in the fields in the mornings. The land is blessed when they are here but empty when they leave.”
Dshering learns that the previous morning’s count was 547—about 100 fewer than the last tally. It appears that a number of cranes have already de parted for their breeding grounds on the Tibetan Plateau, earlier than in previous years.
I think back to an RSPN information board showing the cranes’ migratory routes, red lines tracing their GPS-tracked journeys across the Himalayas. Karma had explained that some birds are moni tored using a tracking app, and that a crane expert had raised the possibility that climate change was affecting migration patterns.
The valley is emptying, and by the first month of the lunar year, the birds will have all headed back over the mountains.
In a country known for its Gross National Happiness, Phobjikha Valley offers a compelling example of how people and wildlife can coexist. If the cranes continue to make the pilgrimage back to these wetlands, they will always find a haven.
<figure id="attachment_163502" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-163502" style="width: 1800px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-full wp-image-163502" src="https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Black-Necked-Cranes-Large.jpg" alt="Hundreds of black-necked cranes descend on the Phobjikha Valley each winter before returning to the Tibetan Plateau at the end of the season." width="1800" height="1200" srcset="https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Black-Necked-Cranes-Large.jpg 1800w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Black-Necked-Cranes-Large-300x200.jpg 300w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Black-Necked-Cranes-Large-1024x683.jpg 1024w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Black-Necked-Cranes-Large-768x512.jpg 768w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Black-Necked-Cranes-Large-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://staging.destinasian.com/wp-content/uploads/Bhutan-Phobjikha-Valley-Black-Necked-Cranes-Large-1568x1045.jpg 1568w" sizes="auto, (max-width: 1800px) 100vw, 1800px" /><figcaption id="caption-attachment-163502" class="wp-caption-text">Hundreds of black-necked cranes descend on the Phobjikha Valley each winter before returning to the Tibetan Plateau at the end of the season.</figcaption></figure>
Phobjikha Practicalities
GETTING THERE
National flag carrier <a href="https://drukair.com.bt/?DestinAsian" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Drukair</a> flies three times a week between Singapore and Paro in western Bhutan, with a brief stop in Guwahati, India. Home to the kingdom’s only international airport, Paro is about a five-hour drive from the Phobjikha Valley.
WHERE TO STAY
Accommodations in Phobjikha range from modest but immersive homestays to luxury properties such as <a href="https://gangteylodge.com/?DestinAsian" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Gangtey Lodge</a> (from US$650 a night), a 12-suite retreat set on a ridge below the valley’s historic monastery, overlooking forests, potato fields, and wetlands.
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This article originally appeared in the <a href="https://subscription.destinasian.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">August/September 2026</a> print issue of DestinAsian magazine (“On a Wing and a Prayer”). Buy a single issue or subscribe <a href="https://subscription.destinasian.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">here</a>.

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