Patch-Hay Grazing – Just Another of Many Ways to Create Habitat Heterogeneity

Managing grasslands for biological diversity and resilience depends a lot on habitat heterogeneity. Every plant and animal in the prairie has its own needs and preferences related to factors like vegetation height and density, diversity of blooming flowers, the amount of exposed bare ground, and many others. To provide for all those needs, we have to manage in a way that provides all those habitat types.

Even more, we want to manage so that those various habitat types occur in different places each year in a kind of shifting mosaic of habitat patches. That allows mobile creatures to move to where they want to live, hunt, forage, mate, etc. It also allows plants to experience the growth conditions they like best at least every few years. As a result, no species consistently wins or loses and everybody stays in the game (persists in the prairie).

Sedge wrens (left) and upland sandpipers (right) need very different habitat structure for nesting. If you want both birds to nest in the same prairie, you need patches of tall/dense vegetation for sedge wrens and large areas of short vegetation for upland sandpipers.
Entire-leaf rosinweed (left) does well in prairies that haven’t been burned or grazed recently but daisy fleabane (right) is a biennial that does best after grazing or another treatment temporarily weakens dominant perennial plants. Consistent management in any particular place will likely eliminate one of these species over time.

There are lots of effective ways to create this kind of shifting mosaic and support a strong diversity of plants and animals (and other organisms). Foundationally, it just requires managers to split a prairie into multiple patches each year and make sure that each patch is both different from its neighbors and different than it was the previous year. Mowing, burning, and grazing are all ways to manipulate habitat structure and growing conditions.

All of those treatments can be applied at any time throughout the year, giving you a lot of options to play with. In addition, if you mow, you can vary the timing and number of times you mow a particular spot during the season, but you can also adjust the mower height each time. Grazing is even more flexible because you can vary timing, intensity, and duration to achieve a wide variety of results. Fire is the least flexible, but even so, you can burn during any season, as long as you have enough fuel (dry vegetation) present to carry fire. You may also be able to take advantage of fuel and weather conditions to create either a complete burn or a patchy one, depending upon your preferences.

If both fire and grazing are options for you, patch-burn grazing can be a terrific way to create a shifting mosaic. Within a patch-burn grazed prairie, large grazing animals (e.g., bison or cattle) focus their grazing in recently-burned areas much more than unburned areas. Managers burn a new patch each year to move the grazing pressure and rest around the grassland. We usually burn around 1/3 to 1/4 of the total site, depending upon how many years it usually takes for burned/grazed areas to fully recover. In drier and/or less productive sites, recovery from being burned and then grazed all season takes longer, so we burn a smaller percentage of the total area each year. Within that basic framework, there are lots of options regarding stocking rate, timing and duration of the grazing period, and more – allowing you to tailor the general approach to your specific objectives.

Patch-burn grazing at The Nature Conservancy’s Platte River Prairies. Cattle are focusing their grazing on a recent (summer) burn but have access to the unburned areas as well.

Patch-burn grazing, however, relies on frequent and consistent use of prescribed fire, which isn’t logistically possible for a lot of people. As a result, we’ve experimented with other approaches to “focal grazing” where we encourage grazers to do most of their grazing in one part of a larger grassland and then shift that focus patch around through space and time. One of those approaches is open gate rotational grazing, which takes advantage of the kind of fence and water infrastructure most ranchers already have, but creates more heterogeneity than most rotational grazing strategies. This summer, we’re testing virtual fencing as a way to influence cattle grazing patterns, and have a lot of optimism about that technology as well.

An additional method we’ve used over the years, and (finally) the topic of this post, is something we call patch-hay grazing. It’s not very complicated. It’s really just patch-burn grazing, but instead of burning, we cut hay where we want to focus grazing pressure. As with patch-burn grazing, the key is to create an area where fresh, nutritious grass growth, without any standing dead vegetation, lures grazers in and encourages them to spend most of their grazing time in that patch.

Cattle grazing in recently hayed prairie back in 2013.
Same prairie/year as above. You can see the edge of the unhayed prairie on the left side of the photo. The cattle had access to the unhayed area but spent little time there.

The results we’ve seen with patch-hay grazing have been very similar to patch-burn grazing, though we are still experimenting and learning. Both cattle and bison gravitate toward recently hayed areas and spend the majority of their time grazing there. That leaves the unhayed areas mostly ungrazed.

We’ve cut hay at various times of year across the growing season and have seen good success with everything we’ve tried. I’d say the biggest concern we’ve run into is that if we cut hay too late in the summer (e.g., late August), especially if we have a dry autumn, there isn’t always enough regrowth to lure grazers in. When that happens, they wander around and create small grazing lawns distributed across much of the pasture. The next spring, they tend to start on those small patches again instead of focusing solely on the hayed area. It’s not terrible, but the grazing isn’t as concentrated as we’d like.

This hay patch was cut in early August last year (2025). This photo was taken after cutting and before baling.
Here’s the equipment that was used.
Hay on the ground after cutting.
Here you can see part of the unhayed portion in the background.
This picture shows the same site the following spring (mid-April of 2026). The green patch is what was hayed in August of 2025.
Here’s a closer look at that hay patch. You can see the cattle (little black specks) grazing in the hayed area.

The nice thing about the concept of patch-hay grazing is that it can be incorporated into lots of situations. You can run it as a season-long grazing system as we usually do – cutting hay to concentrate grazing in one area more than others. But you can also mix some hay harvesting into just about any grazing approach. If there are parts of a pasture cows don’t often graze, you could hay those areas (assuming topography allows it) to encourage more grazing pressure. You could also incorporate haying into a rotational system. You could mow portions of several pastures, for example, to create more patches of higher forage quality and increased habitat heterogeneity at the same time. There’s plenty of room for creativity, depending on what you’re trying to accomplish.

Regardless of the tools and techniques you use, a focus on habitat heterogeneity and a shifting mosaic can help you support the broadest possible diversity of species in your prairie. That diversity is important for its own sake, of course, but it also props up the ecological resilience of the site. Given the raft of challenges facing prairies today, the more resilient we can make them, the better.

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Notes on hay-patch grazing logistics: For those who are interested, here are a few additional things we’ve learned.

First, we have had no problem with cutting hay while cattle are in the pasture. The cattle started grazing the hayed area almost immediately after the mower went through and walked between the wind rows without messing them up.

Second, lower mowing heights seem create more attraction for grazers than when the hay mower is set higher. I assume that’s because there is less thatch and old material present, but I don’t know for sure. It’s just what we’ve noticed.

Third, you might wonder if you can just mow instead of cutting hay and baling/removing it. Sure, but a bunch of dried material lying on top of the green regrowth counteracts a lot of the attractiveness of that regrowth. Now when a grazer takes a bite, it’s probably going to get some old dead stuff in its mouth along with the new green growth it really wants. Mowing may still work if the rest of the pasture is tall and dense because the mowed area will probably be more attractive than that, but it’s certainly not as good as haying.

Finally, you might wonder how to calculate a stocking rate when you’re cutting and removing a bunch of forage from the site. When we figure stocking rates for patch-burn grazing, we start with the recommended stocking rate (based on soils, rainfall, etc.) for the whole pasture and that’s usually pretty close. Often, we find ourselves bumping that rate up over the first several years until we find the sweet spot where we get good grazing pressure in the burned areas but light enough grazing elsewhere that previously burned patches recover within a few years.

We calculate stocking rate the same way when we cut hay instead of burning. It feels like we’re able to graze as normal while still cutting hay from about 1/3 or 1/4 of the site. I’m not really able to explain that because it seems like we’d be removing some production from the site and reducing the amount of available forage. One reason might be that we typically mow the tallest and most rank grass, which the cattle weren’t going to be grazing anyway. Regardless, we’ve never yet had an issue with using the same stocking rate as we’d use with patch-burn grazing.

Oh, and it hopefully goes without saying that any of the general approaches here will still require managers to watch and adapt management over time. In addition, there will surely be additional work needed to help suppress invasive species and/or encroaching woody plants, or whatever other challenges your individual prairie faces. None of these approaches should be seen as a recipe that, if followed, will cover all the needs of a prairie.

I’m Always Glad I Went Out

I don’t ever plan to write an autobiography, but if I do, the title might very well be, “I Was Always Glad I Went Out”. And, of course, it will sell badly because that’s not a very catchy title for a book. Plus, no one wants to hear about my childhood.

Although it’s a terrible book title, it really is something I feel whenever I kick myself out out of the house and into the prairie. Yesterday was a great example. I had the day off because of the federal holiday (The Nature Conservancy gives us federal holidays off, even though we are not a government agency). I woke up and wasn’t sure what to do with myself. Eventually, I decided I really just needed to go somewhere and things would fall into place. That was a smart call.

The part of the prairie grazed throughout 2025 is on the left and the part grazed throughout 2024 (and rested in 2025) is on the right.

I headed out to our family prairie. I wanted to scout some possibilities for a potential future project, but that was really just the excuse I used to talk myself into the trip. When I arrived, I explored happily, mostly in the part of the prairie that had been grazed all of last year and where the vegetation was extremely short. It was a warm enough morning (mid-50s Fahrenheit) that I hoped to find a few insects moving around, even in mid February, and I haven’t had a lot of opportunities for bug photography lately!

The grass was REALLY short from last year’s grazing.
Black medic (the green in the foreground) was one of a number of plants that were already greening up.

You might remember a recent post with a lot of photos I took in part of our prairie during its first year of rest after a year of intensive grazing. The area I was in yesterday will go through a similar process during the coming year, but right now, it’s just really short with a lot of exposed bare ground. I figured the exposed bare ground would make finding insects easy – both because they like soaking in the sunlight and because there’s not much to hide them from my eyes (other than their incredible camouflage and tiny size, of course).

As it happened, I did find a fair number of insects, but I also found plenty of other sights and sounds to catch my attention. The sounds were mostly flocks of migratory snow geese that crisscrossed the sky above me, shouting to each other about something or other. A group of winter meadowlarks flew past as well, but they were just moving from one part of our prairie to another and weren’t nearly as noisy about it.

The first sight that caught my eye was a couple of badger burrows. As I walked, I saw more and more – at least a couple dozen in total. I estimated there were maybe 2 per acre, and that’s likely an underestimate. Coincidentally, I’d just recently received a reply to an email I’d sent to a badger researcher asking about burrows. I’d wanted to confirm that most of the digging activity we see in prairies is from hunting, not necessarily for the purpose of making an overnight sleeping spot. The researcher confirmed my assumption, but also agreed with my guess that the badgers probably did end up sleeping for a night in at least some of those burrows, especially since they’d already gone through the excavation work anyway.

One of many badger burrows in the grazed area.

I’ve noticed before that badgers like to dig around in areas of short vegetation, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen quite the same burrow density as I saw yesterday. Looking across the road, it looked like there were quite a few in the neighbor’s soybean field, too. (Interestingly, I felt a little betrayed by the badger(s?) when I saw that. Isn’t that ridiculous? I thought, “Hey, why are OUR badgers going to the neighbor’s?? Our little prairie isn’t good enough for them?”)

I’m pretty sure the reason there are so many badger burrows in recently-grazed sites, by the way, is because that’s favored habitat for thirteen-lined ground squirrels, which are often considered badgers’ favorite prey. The ground squirrels like the short habitat and dig their little burrows all over in it. That makes it easy for the badgers, who show up and dig their much bigger burrows in the same spot – digging right down to the ground squirrels and catching/eating them. It’s a terrific strategy, but must be a terrifying way for the ground squirrels to end their lives.

I’m pretty sure this is thirteen-lined ground squirrel activity. And some dried cow manure. This ground squirrel burrow hasn’t yet been dug up by badgers. It’s probably either a lucky ground squirrel or an empty burrow.

Speaking of small mammals, I saw additional evidence that they, and/or other small vertebrates, had been active. In particular, I found a single kernel of corn on the ground, maybe 100 yards from the nearest corn field, and a little cache of soybeans in a different place – again, maybe 100 yards from the closest soybean field. The corn kernel could have been carried there by a number of different animals, I suppose, but I’d guess either a bird or mouse (or maybe a ground squirrel?). The collection of soybeans, though, definitely looked like something only a small mammal would make. I’ve seen similar caches before, but still don’t know which species might be making them. Any small mammal experts out there?

Kernel of corn in the middle of the prairie.
A cache of soybeans collected by some animal who either forgot about them or just hasn’t eaten them yet.

I did find invertebrates, too. They weren’t easy to spot, even with all the bare ground, but I laid down on a few south-facing hill sides where I guessed bugs would get some nice warm sun, and waited until I saw movement. I managed to see and photograph a handful of grasshoppers. Well, not exactly a handful, since they were all very tiny nymphs, but I did see 4-5 of them. They looked different from each other, but I’ve learned enough about grasshoppers to know that differing appearance doesn’t mean they were different species.

Especially among grasshopper nymphs, appearance can sometimes vary quite a bit from individual to individual, and even more between nymphal stages – even within the same species. As a result, the three individuals featured below might very well be all the same species. (The first two photos are different shots of the same individual, which was about 3/4 of an inch long. The second two were two other individuals which were both less than half an inch in length.)

Grasshopper nymph, side view.
The same grasshopper nymph, front view.
A different grasshopper nymph.
Yet another grasshopper nymph.

Many invertebrates (along with some frogs and other vertebrates) have the ability to freeze solid during the cold winter months and then reanimate when it warms back up. I’ve known and marveled at that for a long time, but yesterday, I realized I still had unanswered questions. Primarily, why is that we can put insects in the freezer to kill them (during research data collection efforts, for example) and they don’t reanimate? What’s the difference between that and the kind of freezing they do during very cold winters?

As I often do, I took advantage of having met a lot of smart people during my career, and sent off an email to a few entomologists to ask for an explanation. So far, I’ve only heard back from one of them, so I may have to update this later. The first response, from Mathew Brust, gave me a couple possible explanations. One is that many insects (and other invertebrates) find insulated spots for overwintering – often in leaf litter or in underground burrows. That doesn’t keep them from freezing, but does keep them a lot warmer than if they were just sitting in an exposed spot. The temperature difference between a sheltered and unsheltered spot can be surprisingly stark, and could easily be the difference between life and death. It could very well prevent insects from getting as cold as the the zero degrees F many of our freezers are set at.

A second possibility, though, is that invertebrates can handle cold temperatures much more easily when the temperature change is fairly gradual. If they have time to adjust, their bodies might be able to handle much colder temperatures than if the temperature goes from, say, 80 degrees F to 0 degrees F within a few minutes. That quick and drastic shift might be too much for invertebrates to handle.

Matt also sent me a recent video by Travis McEnery, which explores the ways spiders can survive winter temperatures. You can watch it at this link, if you like. The video does a great job of explaining how the “blood” (hemolymph) of spiders and invertebrates is often formulated in a way that it doesn’t freeze solid until temperatures get far below those that freeze water. There’s a lot more to it, but I’m not going to try to explain it all here.

A really tiny juvenile wolf spider – about 1/4 inch in length.

Another reason (covered by the McEnery video) spiders and insects can handle winter temperatures might tie both Matt’s suggestions together. In at least some invertebrates, their bodies change throughout the year, and in places that have cold winter, invertebrate bodies develop a tolerance to cold (related to the composition of their hemolymph, for example) only when day lengths shorten during the colder times of year. In other words, they’re not adapted to freezing temperatures during our summer research work but they are by the time winter comes around.

Of course, there’s a difference between sheltering in place during cold temperatures and staying active in cold temperatures. Most invertebrates do the former, at least when it’s really cold, but others keep moving around. If you spend a lot of time outdoors in the winter and keep your eyes open for little invertebrates at the same time (and doesn’t everyone?) you may have noticed a surprising amount of activity, even on snow and ice. I often see juvenile wolf spiders, for example (like the one pictured above) on the snow, and have seen them moving around even when temperatures were well below freezing. Springtails (Collembola), aka snow fleas, provide another example of species that seem to do just fine running around when it seems way too cold for that kind of silliness.

Apart from seeing all those animals and conjecturing about their behavior, I also looked at a lot of plants. Some grasses and sedges were starting to green up already, which isn’t unusual, but this warm winter might have them a little ahead of most years. In addition, a number of forbs (broad leaved plants) were also growing. Some were perennials, regrowing from underground buds, and others were brand new plants (probably mostly annuals and biennials).

Cudweed sage, aka white sage (Artemisia ludoviciana).
A new seedling that I couldn’t identify at this early stage.
I’m guessing this is a perennial goldenrod or aster, but I’m not confident.

The most abundant green forb in the heavily grazed site was black medic, which is a non-native legume that always responds well to grazing. We often see flushes in abundance (and/or blooming) of this species in the year following grazing events that create a lot of space and sunlight. Because I’ve conducted annual vegetation surveys throughout the last couple decades, I’ve gotten to see this over and over. Dense vegetation and a lot of thatch (layer of dead vegetation) can kill off the short-lived medic plants beneath it, or, in some cases, it just causes them to shrink down to just a few small leaves. After grazing removes that thatch and reduces the competitive ability of neighboring plants, though, medic can quickly grow and bloom profusely – both from seed and from the little plants just hanging on to life.

There was a lot of black medic, which looked like it had greened up and then frozen again multiple times through the winter.

So, once again, my adage held true. I went out, not sure if there would be anything interesting to see, and I returned with a mind full of observations and questions. Even in mid-February, when prairies are supposed to be dormant (and thus particularly boring), it was a great morning.

I’m always glad when I go out.