Every June, Nunzio Marcelli gathers his 1,300 sheep near Anversa degli Abruzzi and starts walking. For three days, the herd follows a tratturo—one of the ancient paths carved by more than 2,300 years of seasonal migrations—climbing 30 miles to an alpine meadow at 6,561 feet below Monte Greco. It’s a journey that’s been repeated in the Apennines for millennia, and it’s still happening right now.
When most people picture Italy, they think of Renaissance piazzas, coastal villages, and rolling vineyards. But there’s another Italy, one that moves at the pace of hooves on stone and follows cycles that predate the Roman Empire. The shepherd culture of the Apennines isn’t a museum piece or a tourist reenactment. It’s a living, working tradition, and it’s one of the most genuine experiences you can still have in this country.
What transhumance actually means
The word itself comes from Latin—trans meaning “across” and humus meaning “earth.” Transhumance is the seasonal movement of livestock between lowland winter pastures and high summer grazing grounds. In the Apennines, shepherds guide their flocks up as the snowline retreats in late spring, spend the summer on alpine meadows where forage is richest, and bring them down again before the first heavy snow in autumn.
In December 2019, UNESCO inscribed transhumance on its List of Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, recognizing it as a practice that’s “more than just a profession… but a way of life.” The bid was led by Italy, Greece, and Austria, and it acknowledged what the people of the Apennines have known for thousands of years: this seasonal rhythm shapes the land, the food, and the communities that depend on it.
The history runs deep. Pollen cores from South Tyrol show grazing-related vegetation changes dating back roughly 4,500 years. Dry-stone animal enclosures from the Bronze Age still dot the landscape. Evidence of transhumance appears as early as 3000 BC in the Northern Limestone Alps, and by the High Middle Ages, the system was stable enough to be documented in a 1204 record naming a summer pasture. For centuries, this wasn’t a niche tradition—it was the economic backbone of entire valleys.
Years of grazing-related vegetation change recorded in South Tyrol pollen cores
Eurac Research
Ecologically, transhumance does something that modern intensive farming can’t replicate. Grazing animals browse the buds of shrubs and young trees, which slows forest encroachment and keeps alpine meadows open. Those meadows support a richer mix of plant species, which in turn feeds pollinators and ground-nesting birds. It’s a system where the health of the pasture and the health of the herd are the same thing.
Abruzzo, where the mountains still belong to shepherds
If you want to see shepherd culture in action today, Abruzzo is the place to start. Nearly a third of the region is protected land, with three national parks, snow-capped Apennine peaks, and plateaus that feel like another world. The Gran Sasso d’Italia, at 2,912 meters, towers over medieval hill towns. The Parco Nazionale della Majella is rich in caves and ancient flora, long used as both a spiritual refuge and a shepherd’s domain. And the Campo Imperatore plateau—sometimes called “Little Tibet”—stretches out with a surreal, high-altitude stillness that makes you understand why shepherds have brought their flocks here for centuries.
The tratturi are the invisible infrastructure of this world. These broad, grassy paths were carved by the hooves of migrating livestock over thousands of years, and they still connect the mountains to the plains. Some of them have become roads. Others are being reclaimed by brush. But organizations like Le Vie dei Tratturi work to protect the remaining corridors and provide information on events, museums, and maps for travelers who want to follow them.
The hilltop towns along these routes are part of the story too. Santo Stefano di Sessanio and Castel del Monte sit on stone ridges with views that stretch for miles. Scanno, with its lacework traditions and lake reflections, was once a center of livestock wealth—you can still see it in the traditional wool costumes that older residents remember wearing. These villages weren’t built as tourist attractions. They grew up where they did because the tratturi passed nearby, and the shepherds needed places to rest, trade, and celebrate.
The families who refuse to let it die
The Marcelli family runs La Porta dei Parchi, an agriturismo near Anversa degli Abruzzi that doubles as a working sheep farm. Nunzio Marcelli, 65, studied economics at Sapienza University in Rome and wrote his dissertation on sustainable sheep breeding for the rural Abruzzo economy. In 1977, he moved home and started raising sheep with his wife, Manuela Cozzi. Their daughter Viola studied painting and product design in Florence, then came back to become head cheesemaker and chef, leading a regional sheep cooperative.
“In the past there were millions of sheep in Abruzzo,” Nunzio has said. “Now maybe 200,000. We raise sheep to inspire others.” His sheep spend the summer on public land leased from the Scanno district, inside the National Park of Abruzzo, Lazio, and Molise. Abruzzese mastiff guard dogs stay with them to protect against wolves and bears. In November, the whole operation reverses, and the sheep come home.
Further south, in Molise and Puglia, Carmelina Colantuano is a fourth-generation cheesemaker who practices transhumance on horseback, herding 300 mostly Podolica cows more than 100 miles to winter pasture. Her award-winning caciocavallo cheese gets its flavor from the wild grasses and herbs along the route. She was a major advocate for the UNESCO recognition, and her family’s trek follows one of the five remaining migratory routes in the region.
In the Dolomites, Daniel Paratscha and Sandra Hofer spend their summers above 2,000 meters with sheep, goats, donkeys, and their herding dogs. A Roman writer from the 1st century AD described the qualities of a good shepherd—always keep the herd in sight, handle animals gently—and Daniel’s methods would have been familiar to him. In the Puster Valley, Matthias Prieth summers with his wife and two children on a pasture above 2,000 meters. He milks goats, cleans the barn, tends cows, and plays guitar. A recent storm nearly blew his cabin away. He stays because he believes shepherding can be an innovative profession, not a dying one.
Astrid Summerer takes a different approach. She moves her sheep from the mountains of Sexten to Friuli Venezia Giulia each winter, constantly monitoring their health through the journey. And across South Tyrol, the LIFEstockProtect project, led by wildlife ecologist Julia Stauder at Eurac Research, is working to revive professional shepherding by training new shepherds, organizing volunteer programs, and building knowledge exchange between experienced herders and livestock owners. The vocational school for agriculture in Salern now includes shepherd training in its curriculum.
Eating and celebrating the shepherd way
Shepherd culture tastes like something. In Abruzzo, that means arrosticini—skewers of lamb cooked over charcoal, a dish that started as a shepherd’s meal and became the region’s most iconic street food. It means maccheroni alla chitarra, square-cut pasta made with a stringed wooden tool, and scrippelle ‘mbusse, egg crepes in broth. And it means cheese.
The connection between transhumance and cheese is direct. Animals that graze on diverse alpine forage produce milk with complex floral notes, and the traditional Senn methods used in the Alps turn that milk into cheeses like Alpkäse, Bergkäse, and Sura Kees. The Heumilch (hay milk) designation helps preserve those flavors by requiring that cows be fed on fresh grass and hay rather than fermented feed. In Abruzzo, the Marcelli family makes pecorino and ricotta by hand. Carmelina Colantuano’s caciocavallo, flavored by the wild herbs of Puglia and Molise, has made its way to restaurants in Rome and Manhattan.
Festivals keep the cultural side alive. Anversa degli Abruzzi hosts the Festa della Transumanza, a celebration of shepherd life with music, food, and actual sheep walks through the streets. L’Aquila’s La Perdonanza Celestiniana dates back to 1294, mixing religion and civic pride with the rhythms of the pastoral calendar. And in Cocullo, the Festa dei Serpari on May 1 sees snake handlers drape a statue of Saint Domenico di Sora with live snakes—a tradition with roots in shepherd folklore, asking for protection from bites.
Going to see it for yourself
Spring and fall are the best times to witness transhumance, when the herds are moving between lowlands and high pastures. Summer is the season to find shepherds on the alpine meadows, though you’ll need to be prepared for remote access and high elevations. Winter is quiet—most animals are stabled in the valleys.
Getting to Abruzzo is straightforward. Fast trains from Rome reach Pescara in two to three hours. Regional trains connect Sulmona, L’Aquila, and Teramo. A car is useful for reaching the more remote mountain villages and park access points—the drives through Gran Sasso and Majella are dramatic in their own right. The Abruzzo International Airport in Pescara connects with several major European cities.
Stay at an agriturismo like La Porta dei Parchi, where you can sleep on a working farm, eat cheese made that morning, and walk the same ground the shepherds use. Spring and autumn are the best seasons for this—you might even arrive during a migration.
For travelers who want to go deeper, volunteer programs connected to the LIFEstockProtect project let you spend days or even months helping shepherds on the mountain. It’s not a packaged experience—you’ll be doing real work at altitude—but participants describe it as a chance to escape the city pace and learn skills that have been passed down for generations.
Le Vie dei Tratturi offers guided hikes, mountain bike tours, and horseback expeditions that follow the ancient drove roads. Most operate in spring and fall, and some include the chance to help move livestock. Not all pathways are open to the public, so check before you set out.
What comes next
Transhumance faces real pressure. Climate change is altering the timing of forage growth. Wool and meat prices are low. Young people in many villages don’t see a future in the work. Some of the old drove roads now intersect highways or have been converted to cropland. Nunzio Marcelli has said that politicians don’t make policy with small-scale farmers in mind.
But there are reasons for cautious optimism. The UNESCO inscription in 2019 gave the practice a visibility it hadn’t had in decades. The LIFEstockProtect project is training a new generation of shepherds, not by romanticizing the past but by treating it as a skilled profession that requires predator management, animal first aid, and visitor communication. And the volunteers who show up each summer—the ones who want to spend their holidays above treeline with a flock of sheep and a guard dog—suggest that the appeal of this life hasn’t disappeared.
Shepherd culture in the Apennines isn’t a relic. It’s a working system that has adapted to war, economic collapse, industrialization, and the return of wolves. It will adapt to this century too, or it won’t. But the fact that families are still choosing it, that young people are still learning it, and that the meadows are still open because of it—that’s worth paying attention to.
Before you head to the Apennines
When is the best time to see transhumance in person?
Spring (April through June) for the upward move to high pastures, and late September through October for the return. Summer is good for finding shepherds on the alpine meadows, but the herds are settled in one place rather than moving.
Can I visit shepherds while they’re working?
Some agriturismi like La Porta dei Parchi welcome guests year-round and are happy to show you the daily rhythm. Volunteer programs through LIFEstockProtect offer a more hands-on experience. For independent visits, check with Le Vie dei Tratturi for open pathways and events.
Is Abruzzo safe for solo travelers?
One of the safest regions in Italy, with warm, welcoming locals. A car helps for reaching remote villages and park access. Speaking some Italian goes a long way, especially with older residents.
What cheese should I try while I’m there?
Pecorino and ricotta from the Marcelli farm, caciocavallo from the Colantuono family in Molise, and any mountain cheese labeled Heumilch or Alpkäse in the alpine regions. Each one carries the flavor of the pasture where the animals grazed.
Is any part of this tradition overrated or disappointing for visitors?
The biggest letdown is access. Not all tratturi are open to the public, and some have been paved over or blocked. You can’t just show up and follow a herd—you need to plan around specific events, farms, or guided experiences. The romantic image of the lone shepherd doesn’t always match the reality of permits, highway crossings, and long stretches of nothing happening.
Sources and further reading
UNESCO. “Transhumance, the seasonal droving of livestock along migratory routes in the Mediterranean and in the Alps.” 2019. 🔗
Eurac Research. “The Time of the Shepherds.” 🔗
La Porta dei Parchi. Farm and agriturismo, Anversa degli Abruzzi. 🔗
Le Vie dei Tratturi. Advocacy and traveler information for drove-road protection. 🔗