Samothraki: Island of the Goats
The phrase “Greek island” often evokes images of pristine white beaches, idyllically peaceful villages and stunningly clear water. While Samothraki, a Greek island in the northern Aegean sea, partially fits this description, it is also home to a unique ecological disaster. A relatively small island of 68 square miles, Samothraki has mostly escaped the attention of mass tourism and is home to less than 3,000 inhabitants. Strangely, it also hosts a staggering 50,000 goats, most of which are “semi-wild” and roam freely. The results of this ecological imbalance, fueled by questionable governmental and local decisions, are coming back to haunt the people of Samothraki in a dramatic fashion.
The island of Samothraki emerges from the haze as the daily ferry arrives. The island is home to between two and three thousand inhabititants.
Samothraki's capital, Chora, lies under the towering Mt. Saos, and was reportedly built in this secluded spot to hide it from marauding pirates in the middle ages.
A goat peers through the window of an abandoned stone house in one of the island's many olive groves.
The issue began decades ago when the European Union created an overly high subsidy that encouraged the ownership of goats. With the purchase of each new goat, shepherds were eligible for a yearly sum of money, regardless of whether or not they produced anything with the goats. In the 1990s, it is estimated that 70,000 goats inhabited the island. Today, that number is probably closer to 50,000. “I’m afraid no one really knows and I’m afraid no one really cares,” said Ilkka Vierinen, when asked if the goat population was rising or falling. Vierinen co-runs Project Greenflow, a local eco-project that aims to set the example in sustainable goat management. The overpopulation of goats is creating an ever-worsening crisis for the island ecosystem—desertification. In areas with the densest goat populations, huge swaths of land are now completely void of plants, unable to withstand their constant nibbling. With no plants to hold the soil, Samothraki’s mountainous terrain is at the mercy of erosion in every downpour of rain.
““That used to be called the milk mountain because just a couple of decades ago, it used to be so lush,” ”
A group of goats gathers together beside a quiet road as the sun sets.
Already missing most of its leaves, one of the few living trees on an eroded slope stands above less fortunate ones of its kind.
Chora, Samothraki’s capital, is situated under Mt. Saos, the island’s largest mountain, and is the most impacted village of the island. In 2017, a huge storm and torrential downpour turned its streets into rivers, damaging or destroying countless homes, businesses, and even part of the city hall. The island’s only health clinic was also destroyed, which remains nonoperational to this day.
Though such a natural disaster might seem far removed from the goats, it is their role in the desertification that allows the rainwater to pick up speed along the mountainsides, gathering soil and rocks along the way. This mix of water and soil eventually slammed into the village below, nearly drowning multiple civilians, both in Chora and in cars along the roads. Unfortunately, this risk of flooding and erosion seems unlikely to improve, as the goats continue to consume the ground vegetation around Chora.
As the branches fall, the goats immediately rush in to take advantage of the food that they can't normally reach. Most of the olive trees have sharp sticks attached to their bases to prevent the goats from climbing into them.
During the fall, Pedros spends his mornings harvesting olives, and his evenings milking the goats. At 65, he is incredibly nimble and fearless as he works in the treetops. Photo by Annalee Durland-Jones
A small, perhaps abandoned home stands on the brink of erosion. A few seasons more of heavy rain, and it may well join the rubble below.
““Some of the older people here, they get tears in their eyes when they’re reminiscing about how it used to be,””
The eerie aftermath of the flooding, as seen through the window of one of the now abandoned houses in Chora.
Debris from flooding rests in a small side street, after crashing through the floorboards of the house above, and then through the basement door.
The goats return home after devouring their fill of the neighboring countryside.
Besides the danger to human life and property, the beauty of the island has also been significantly reduced in many areas. Hillsides that used to be covered in vegetation and trees are now decorated only by dry, loose soil and rocks. “Some of the older people here, they get tears in their eyes when they’re reminiscing about how it used to be,” confessed Hatem Gramy, co-founder at Project Greenflow. Starkly, constrasting the barren desertification present on parts of the island, other parts of the island remain lush and forested. Some plots of land have regrown their vegetation, such as the fenced off property at Project Greenflow, and some other private properties near Chora, such as the one below.
A shepherd uses his truck to herd the goats back towards his property.
A wandering goat stands, its head temporarily stuck between two walls.
A goat pauses from his evening meal to observe a passing car.
There seem to be no simple solutions to the goat problem, and much of Samothraki’s population seems to have lost hope of solving it any time soon. However, the Sustainable Samothraki Association has begun fighting to designate Samothraki as a UNESCO Biosphere reserve. Should they succeed, it may be a step in the right direction towards solving the island’s ecological crisis.
