A group of cranes in the wetland.

The Black necked cranes strolling in wetlands.

A flock of blue sheep on the mountain ridge.

“I live at the source of the Yangtze River, and you live in the lower reaches of it . I miss you every day without seeing you, and we drink from the Yangtze River together”

This ancient poem connects Qinghai and Shanghai, and it also enables the two schools at the source and estuary of the Yangtze River to fulfill the mandate of a clear river flowing eastward. The Changjiang School in Chongming District, Shanghai, located at the mouth of the Yangtze River, adheres to the concept of "cultivating sensitive, lively, and bright young people from the Yangtze River", From water experiments in the classroom to water environmental practices outside of class, let children understand that 'water is the source of life' through personal experience.

At Suojia Township Primary School in Zhiduo County, Yushu Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture, Qinghai Province, where the Yangtze River originates, children are picking up garbage and identifying flowers, plants, and wild animals on the riverside grassland. As the "first school at the source of the Yangtze River", they hold ecological classes every Wednesday afternoon on time, setting the ecological classroom between the blue sky and grassland, so that the awareness of guarding the source of the Yangtze River can take root and bloom in children's hearts like the highland Gesang flower.

Although the customs and teaching methods in the two places are different, the children of the two schools share the same belief: to protect the land under our feet is to protect the entire Yangtze River. This resonance spanning thousands of miles is not only a resonance of education, but also a deep love for the clear water of a river.

For many people, Sanjiangyuan is a familiar yet unfamiliar name. Familiarity stems from admiration for the "Chinese Water Tower" and attachment to the source of life; Stranger, because this land contains too many natural codes and cultural stories that have not been told.

Here, 'guarding' is not a slogan, but a practice of life that happens every day.

About 10 kilometers away from the source of the Yellow River, there used to be a family of herders named Geqiu. They are the closest household to the source of the Yellow River. Abundant aquatic plants nurture herds of yaks, while clean spring water nurtures families that have lived here for generations.

“The source is life, guarding the source is guarding our own life.” From a young age, Geqiu grew up listening to the advice of his parents. He also told his younger generation in the same way.

In 2019, in order to alleviate grassland pressure and restore water source ecology, 66 herders including Geqiu family responded to the policy and moved away from the pasture where their ancestors lived. A five-year grazing ban will be implemented on 320000 acres of grassland, marking the first time in the history of the region that grazing has been banned.

“We moved to let the grassland breathe better and the water run clearer, so our home can become more beautiful.” Geqiu never complained. He relocated to the public pasture in the township but still returned every month to patrol the area. Each time he passed by, he would sit for a while in front of his old home, gazing in the direction of the river’s source, his eyes filled with nostalgia as he took in the familiar mountains and flowing waters.

In October 2024, the five-year grazing ban ended, and the herders joyfully returned to their homeland with their livestock. They were greeted by greener pastures, clearer water sources, and a home revitalized with renewed life. This joy was not only the comfort of returning home but also the profound satisfaction of witnessing ecological recovery with their own eyes.

Such guardianship is not only seen at the source of the Yellow River.

Across the entire Three-River-Source region, "ecological rangers" have become a new identity for many herders. They have set aside their herding whips and picked up patrol recorders, becoming the "eyes" and "guardians" of the national park.

In July 2024, cries were heard from the home of herder Magai in Angsai Township, Zadoi County, at the source of the Lancang River—overnight, a brown bear had broken into the livestock pen, resulting in the tragic death of 16 calves. Magai’s wife lay sobbing over the stiff bodies of the calves.

"This is the result of a whole year's hard work for our family. How are we supposed to carry on with our lives now?"

"Don't worry, there's no difficulty we can't overcome. Just grit your teeth and push through!"

"Can we kill the brown bear?"

"Wild animals attack livestock to feed their own young, and we develop animal husbandry to provide for our children and families. We are not enemies."

Magai is an ecological ranger who understands better than anyone else that protecting wildlife means safeguarding the integrity of this land. In the end, they merely drove the brown bears away from the pasture.

Such tolerance and understanding stem from their profound awareness of natural laws, reflecting a higher level of guardianship: not confrontation, but coexistence.

Today, within Sanjiangyuan National Park, tens of thousands of herders have become ecological rangers. They conduct monthly patrols, record species, clean up trash, and combat poaching and destruction, forming the most frontline and enduring force in ecological conservation.

The guardianship of these herders is deeply rooted in the land, while technological empowerment has given it wings.

At the Ecological Monitoring Information Center of the Sanjiangyuan National Park Administration, where Wang Yue works, an integrated "sky-ground" monitoring system keeps a round-the-clock watch over this vast territory.

When Wang Yue first joined in 2018, he witnessed the initial phase of the information platform's development. "At that time, we relied more on manual patrols and fixed-point cameras, which meant slower data retrieval and many blind spots."

Today, high-resolution satellite remote sensing, drone patrols, infrared camera networks, and real-time video transmission form an "ecological protection network" covering the entire Sanjiangyuan region.

On the large screen, Wang Yue can access real-time footage from thousands of miles away: a few Tibetan antelopes crossing the road by the Chumar River, a Upland Buzzard resting on rocks in Qumalai County, and the waves of Zhaling Lake reflecting the blue sky of the plateau.

What impressed him most was in 2019, when they installed the first remote infrared video surveillance system in the Hoh Xil Suonandajie Protection Station, achieving 24/7 uninterrupted monitoring of an area spanning nearly 600 square kilometers. "That was a leap from nothing to something."

Since then, video surveillance systems have been successively installed in Wudaoliang, Zhuonai Lake, Zhaling Lake, and other areas. These systems play a crucial role, especially during the Tibetan antelope calving season.

This year, through the surveillance feed, Wang Yue noticed that a large number of pregnant Tibetan antelopes gathered overnight at Zhuonai Lake, only to disperse into the wilderness before dawn—this valuable data provides key insights for studying the behavior of Tibetan antelopes.

Even more encouragingly, with the coverage of 5G signals at the Zhuonai Lake Protection Station, this uninhabited area is now connected to the outside world in real time for the first time. Footage of Tibetan antelopes giving birth has been uploaded online, allowing millions to collectively witness and guard this migration of life from their screens.

"Now that data can 'travel,' protection has become more precise," says Wang Yue. Currently, Sanjiangyuan has established nearly 20 high-altitude monitoring points, initially achieving an integrated "sky-ground" ecological monitoring framework.

What he and his colleagues are advancing now is a more in-depth digital and intelligent guardianship: conducting specialized monitoring of snow leopards and Tibetan antelopes. Technology is making conservation smarter, more efficient, and far-reaching.

In 2016, Sanjiangyuan became China’s first pilot national park system. In 2021, Sanjiangyuan National Park was officially established, becoming one of China’s first and largest national parks. During his inspection of Qinghai, President Xi Jinping emphasized: "The top priority is to protect Sanjiangyuan, the 'Water Tower of China,' safeguard biodiversity, and enhance water conservation capacity."

Today, these conservation efforts have borne remarkable fruit:

Over the past five years, the area of water bodies and wetlands in the Sanjiangyuan region has increased by 309 square kilometers, supplying 60 billion cubic meters of clean water downstream annually.

The Tibetan antelope population has recovered to over 70,000, with approximately 1,000 snow leopards and 36,000 Tibetan wild asses. Rare species such as leopards and Pallas's cats are also frequently monitored.

More than 17,000 herders have become ecological rangers, earning a livelihood by "protecting the ecology" and "thriving on green practices."

The national park is not only a sanctuary for nature but also a model of harmonious coexistence between humans and the natural world.

From herders relocating to make way for nature, to rangers tolerating wildlife with compassionate resilience, and to technology empowering ecological conservation—the guardianship of Sanjiangyuan is a multi-layered, comprehensive, and sustained effort involving the entire society. It stems from a reverence deeply rooted in cultural traditions, is realized through daily life choices, and elevated through innovations in technology and governance.

This, precisely, embodies the distinct feature of China’s national park initiative: humans and nature are not separated or in conflict, but coexist and thrive together; conservation does not mean depriving livelihoods, but rather redefining the relationship between development and protection.

On the campus of Yangtze River School in Chongming District, Shanghai, children draw the snow-capped mountains and Tibetan antelopes of the river’s source as they imagine them;

On the grasslands of Suojia Township, a child points east and says, “The Yangtze River flows all the way to my friend’s school.”

They may have never met, yet they are bound by the same river as guardians of a shared destiny.

You live near the river’s source, I live by its estuary. We drink from the same waters and together protect this ever-flowing mother river—from a single drop of melting snow at its origin to a surging wave entering the sea.

And this is the most profound form of guardianship.