The majestic Hangul, or Kashmir stag, once roamed the forests of Kashmir in thousands. Today, it teeters on the edge of extinction. Confined almost exclusively to the Dachigam National Park near Srinagar, this critically endangered species—an emblem of the region’s biodiversity—faces threats from habitat loss, human encroachment, and climate change. Once numbering over 3,000 in the 1940s, the population now struggles to cross 250. The alarm bells are ringing, yet the urgency to act is disturbingly absent.The Hangul is not just a deer. It is a symbol of Kashmir’s ecological heritage and resilience. Its decline represents a broader failure to protect fragile ecosystems under increasing pressure from development, deforestation, and unregulated tourism. While Dachigam remains its last bastion, growing human activity in and around the park—illegal grazing, timber smuggling, and expanding infrastructure—has further fragmented its already shrinking habitat.

Conservation efforts have made some progress. Seasonal census operations, GPS tracking, and limited community awareness campaigns have helped monitor the species. Yet, these efforts lack the consistency, scale, and funding necessary for meaningful impact. There is also a pressing need to expand conservation efforts beyond Dachigam by identifying and securing potential migratory corridors and satellite habitats in south and north Kashmir.
Protecting the Hangul must go beyond paper plans and symbolic gestures. It requires a coordinated, science-based, and community-driven approach. First, the government must enforce strict anti-encroachment laws in and around Dachigam and other sensitive areas. Second, scientific interventions such as habitat restoration, supplemental feeding, and predator management should be accelerated. Third, and most importantly, local communities must be turned into stakeholders in conservation—not obstacles. When people living near protected areas benefit from eco-tourism, job creation, or community-led forest protection, they are far more likely to support conservation goals.Time is running out. The Hangul’s fate will not only reflect the health of Kashmir’s wilderness but also our collective commitment to preserving what remains of our natural heritage. If we fail the Hangul, we fail the forest it represents, the people it coexists with, and the generations that will never see its proud antlers emerge from the morning mist. Let this not be a story of regret—but of redemption.