In the distance a thunderstorm was brewing as one couple huddled in their tent. Dark clouds drifted over the valley, pouring out gray stripes of rain. Bibi Naz Ghanbari, 73, and her husband, Nejat, had set up their black tent in the same place where their family had migrated for 200 years. There used to be dozens of family members around. Now there was just one other tent, home to a distant cousin. The couple said unexpected spring cold and rains had gotten into their bones, after they managed to save their tent twice during storms. They had migrated early, to make sure their flock would be able to graze on the spring grass, after a winter with barely any precipitation. None of their eight children had joined them. The battery in Bibi Naz Ghanbari's phone was out of power, so she couldn't even reach them.

"They all live in cities now. What was the point of having them?" she said of her children, who had sold off their flocks to live in houses. "What kind of life is this?" she asked, pointing at the holes in the tent. "We had to sleep under three blankets last night, and it was still cold. I wish I lived in a house too."