Reunion Island Deploys Grazing Strategy to Combat Coastal Savanna Degradation

Ecopastoralism Takes Root on Reunion Island as Sustainable Land Management Practice

The Conservatoire du littoral manages 280 hectares of Cape Lahoussaye savanna on Reunion Island’s western coast, and the work happening there is practical, not theoretical. While the global conversation on desertification and soil degradation plays out at COP 17 in Mongolia, herders and agricultural engineers on this Indian Ocean island are already running a land management system that rebuilds soil, controls invasive species, and sustains a local food supply.

Cape Lahoussaye is Reunion’s last remaining savanna functioning as a complete ecological system, a windswept grassland of rolling hills that mirrors the steppes of continental Africa. The Conservatoire du littoral, a coastal land trust, holds a dual mandate there: preserve the terrain’s scenic and biological character while keeping agricultural activity alive in an increasingly urbanized context. The method it supports is ecopastoralism, formally defined at the Livestock Summit as “a method of sustainable agriculture that uses animals, primarily herbivores such as sheep, goats, horses and cattle, to manage and maintain natural spaces while respecting biodiversity and existing ecosystems.” The practice is ancient. It has existed for more than 10,000 years, and in France alone, roughly 60,000 farms still employ it.

Boris Astourne is one of the operators making it work on the ground. He came to farming through an unconventional route, spending years in urban planning before converting in 2015, determined to work without mechanization and with close attention to living systems. He has since rebuilt a local supply chain for cabris peï, a traditional Reunion goat breed facing extinction. Today he manages 200 goats and bucks, moving them daily across the savanna. The logistics are demanding. “Between 3 and 5 hours per day, we cover about 30 kilometers across hundreds of hectares, and we do this every day. You have to be athletic,” Astourne explains.

The ecological outcomes are measurable. Invasive exotic plant species threaten the savanna’s balance, creating dense brush that erases the open landscape. The goats consume these invasive plants, reopening ancestral pathways and reducing fire risk. They also suppress rat populations that feed on the same invasive species. Astourne notes that the practice maintains a distinctive grass species called pikan jaune, or heteropogon contortus, that defines the savanna’s identity.

The financial case is equally concrete. By relying on natural grazing rather than purchased feed, Astourne spends only 2,000 euros annually on supplemental forage. That figure illustrates the core operational logic: reduced input costs and active ecological management delivered simultaneously. Astourne is direct about what the work actually involves. “It’s not the image of a shepherd with a bottle of wine and sausage sitting in the pasture,” he says. The commitment runs deeper than that. “We know we’re contributing to maintaining a landscape and a local breed facing extinction, and a profession also disappearing. We’re transmitting ancient knowledge to future farmers on Reunion. And it matters because we’re participating in food sovereignty.”

Meanwhile, the Armeflhor research institute, working with the Reunion Association of Pastoralism and the Institute of Livestock, has launched the Nouv’Afer project to scale forage autonomy across the island. The initiative brings together 13 collectives of herders to develop strategies for reducing dependence on imported feed and pesticides. Fanny Carrassoumet, an agronomic engineer and Nouv’Afer project manager, frames the economic rationale plainly. “If you want to make a living from livestock, it has to be profitable somewhere. It’s important to reduce feed costs, especially when you depend on imports. If you produce locally, you eliminate that carbon cost, and it makes economic and social sense.”

Reunion has experienced intensified drought over the past three years, which makes the soil benefits of ecopastoralism increasingly relevant to the island’s agricultural resilience. When animals graze and trample vegetation, they decompress compacted soil and improve water infiltration. They consume invasive species that otherwise monopolize space and damage biodiversity below. The land fertilizes naturally, without petroleum inputs.

Research supports what practitioners observe. Carrassoumet cites studies comparing abandoned pastures to those grazed regularly by animals. The grazed land shows greater species diversity because livestock create competition between plants, leaving room for new growth. “It’s a virtuous circle from every angle,” she says. She also calls for public financial support to sustain the sector, arguing that pastoralism has been pushed toward extinction in many countries and that reversing that trend requires deliberate policy backing.

The Conservatoire du littoral plans to launch a call for projects in coming months to expand pastoralism at Cape Lahoussaye, recruiting herders of cattle and horses to join the effort already underway with goats. Whether that recruitment succeeds, and how quickly new operators can be brought into a system that demands daily 30-kilometer circuits across hundreds of hectares, will determine how far the model can actually scale.