As May turns to June and the last fingers of snow recede from the high meadows of the Alps, a centuries-old ritual returns with the certainty of the seasons. In villages nestled beneath the craggy ramparts of Tyrol, the rolling emerald hills of Gruyères, and the storied valleys of Savoie, the transhumance — a deliberate, celebratory migration of man and beast — begins anew. It is both movement and memory, a living procession that binds alpine people to the land, the animals they tend, and the traditions they preserve with enduring pride.

The term transhumance describes the seasonal passage of livestock to higher pastures for summer grazing — a necessity rooted in agricultural practice, elevated into folklore by time and community. But in the villages of the European Alps, this journey is more than an act of practicality. It is an expression of heritage — a ceremonial rite where cattle are crowned with wildflowers and garlands, herders don embroidered waistcoats and felted hats, and the haunting tones of the alphorn drift across awakening valleys.

These festivals begin in late May, though most peak in June, coinciding with the warming days and greening slopes. They serve as an invitation — to locals, to travelers, to the season itself — to ascend, to look skyward, and to participate in a living testament to alpine life.

In the Austrian Tyrol, the transhumance is marked by Almauftrieb, the upward drive. Entire villages emerge to witness the start of the grazing season, as families lead cows, sheep, and goats toward mountain meadows above the tree line. The herders wear traditional Lederhosen and intricately woven Loden jackets. Bells echo from the necks of the lead cows, whose movements are both deliberate and ceremonial. Here, the relationship between land and people is spiritual, reverent. Farmers carry not just the weight of the season ahead but the legacy of their ancestors — knowledge passed down in quiet conversations, in the care of a hoof, or the handwoven detail of a felted sash. Children are taught to recognize the sounds of each bell, and songs — yodeled across generations — accompany the climb. It is an alpine pastoralism that is anything but forgotten.

In Switzerland, the famed cheese-producing village of Gruyères hosts a particularly resonant celebration. Nestled beneath the Dent de Broc, the festival is a blend of agriculture and art, of sustenance and story. As cows are driven skyward to the Alpages, yodelers and alphorn players summon a chorus of sound that mingles with the murmurs of the crowd and the lowing of cattle. This is also the start of the cheesemaking season, as rich alpine grasses yield milk with the complex flavor necessary for traditional Gruyère AOP. But the significance of the moment is not limited to dairy. It is marked in woodcarving competitions, in stalls selling hand-knitted woolens and raclette, in the ancient practice of blessing the herd at village chapels. Herders, often entire families, lead cows adorned with flower-studded headdresses and painted crests, each bearing the symbols of their farm. The transhumance here is equal parts reverence and revelry — a mirror held to the culture of the Swiss Alps and its devotion to beauty, balance, and bounty.

Across the border in France’s Savoie region, the montée en alpage brings life to the villages of Beaufortain, Tarentaise, and beyond. The celebration is as much visual as it is visceral: a flood of color, sound, and motion. Traditional Savoyard dress, replete with embroidered skirts and polished boots, lends a sense of timelessness, while the omnipresent sound of cowbells creates a rhythmic pulse that guides animals and onlookers alike.

In the villages of Arêches or Les Saisies, the procession is followed by open-air markets where local artisans display their craft — wool spinning, cheese pressing, even the hand-forging of bells themselves. Visitors and villagers alike feast on tartiflette, diots, and vin de Savoie, toasting the arrival of summer and the renewal of ancient customs. And just as in Tyrol and Gruyères, the mountain pastures themselves — lush, dotted with gentian and edelweiss — serve as final stage and sacred destination. As the last herds climb into the heights, the valley settles into quiet, leaving behind the music and movement of the ascent.

In all its variations, transhumance across Austria, Switzerland, and France remains a tether between past and present, earth and elevation. It is a celebration of self-reliance and tradition, of labor honored and landscapes revered. It reveals a quiet truth known well by the alpine people: that to live with the mountains is to move with them — seasonally, spiritually, and with great care. These rituals as reminders of alpine integrity —of traditions practiced not for pageantry, but for pride. The transhumance is not a performance — it is a way of life, as old and elevated as the peaks themselves. So as the spring gives way to summer, and the trails wind upward with the low call of the herd, we celebrate these processions not only as events of great beauty, but as expressions of truly timeless & everlasting alpine tradition.