The Post-Grazing Year

At the beginning of the 2025 growing season, I picked out three sites I could visit repeatedly to photograph/document how a prairie responded to having been grazed the previous year. That turned out to be overly ambitious, but I did manage to focus on one of those sites – an 80×80 foot square marked out at our family prairie – and visited it frequently throughout 2025. I really enjoyed the project and happy to finally share a lot of my favorite photos from it.

One of the reasons I wanted to do this project is that many people have very limited experience with “conservation grazing”, or grazing that is aimed at achieving particular conservation objectives. That’s understandable if your only exposure to cattle grazing comes from seeing overgrazed pastures. As with most things, there’s a lot of variety out there. While it’s not hard to find examples of poorly-grazed grasslands across the Great Plains, there are also countless examples of very thoughtfully-applied grazing that create both good habitat for wildlife/pollinators/plant communities and profitability for ranchers. It’s important to highlight those examples and show that prairies can thrive under well-managed grazing.

Grazing has long been a significant component of prairie ecology. Today, it is still an important part of many prairies, particularly in the Great Plains. Grazing can be used to influence the competition between plants and determine the composition and diversity of the plant community. It can also shape habitat structure, creating areas of short, tall, and patchy vegetation, respectively. A mix of those various habitat types supports a diverse community of animals – large and small.

Here’s the plot on May 1. It was very short from being grazed the entire previous season. The yellower area in the top left is a different part of the same prairie that’s at a different stage of the grazing/rest cycle.

Much of the cattle grazing we’re experimenting with right now, both at The Nature Conservancy/Nebraska and at my family prairie, involves long periods of grazing followed by long periods of rest. There are lots of reasons for this approach, which I won’t go into here, but the biggest objective is to create a broad range of habitat structure across a prairie, without compromising the diversity and richness of the plant community. It’s about creating habitat heterogeneity and ecological resilience.

We’ve been managing our family prairie over the last 10-15 years with open-gate rotational grazing, which has a lot of similarities to patch-burn grazing but isn’t driven by fire. The 80×80 foot plot I photographed in 2025 had been grazed hard most of the previous season (June through October 2024) and part of the season before that (July through Mid-August 2023). By October 2024, it was uniformly short, with a fair amount of bare ground exposed (see the first photo of this post, which shows the plot at the beginning of the 2025 season).

This kind of grazing may sound (and look) irresponsible to people who are either uncomfortable with cattle grazing overall or who have been taught that you should never graze more than half of the biomass of a pasture before moving cattle out. An important point, though, is that the same pasture was rested for two full years prior to 2023/2024 and will be rested for two more full years before it is grazed again. That’s a lot of time for grazed plants to regain their energy and vigor. We’re also looking at how soils respond to this grazing pattern and are seeing positive results (more on that when the data is fully analyzed).

A big patch of purple prairie clover on June 27. Note how short the surrounding grasses are – they’re low on energy because of the previous year’s grazing. They’ll have recovered that energy by next year.
Stiff goldenrod was abundant and in full color on September 13. Again, note the sparsity and short height of the grasses and the space between plants.

My favorite part of grazing approaches like open-gate rotation and patch-burn grazing is the way the prairie community responds in the first year after a long season of grazing. The vigor of the typically-dominant plants (tall grasses, in particular) has been temporarily suppressed, releasing many other plants from that competitive pressure. This usually results in a big wildflower party, including both long-lived perennials and a lot of short-lived plants who are taking advantage of a short window of opportunity to germinate, bloom, and die while the big grasses aren’t able to prevent them from doing so.

The resulting habitat structure is terrific for many animal species, large and small. The reduced height and density of grasses means that it’s easy for animals to move through the vegetation. At the same time, other plants grow tall, creating a kind of miniature savanna, where tall wildflowers are like trees, surrounded by shorter vegetation. Animals can move from sun to shade easily to regulate their temperature. They can also can feed in open areas but quickly retreat to cover when they want to. This supports a huge abundance of invertebrates. It also draws in many larger animals, attracted both by the habitat structure and the food source (invertebrates).

In this October 7 photo, the foreground is the area featured in this post at the end of the 2025 growing season and the short-cropped area in the background is what was grazed hard in 2025 and will be rested in 2026 and 2027.

One highlight of the year was that I found purple coneflower in my plot (two different plants). I’ve only seen the species a few times during the 30 years or so I’ve been involved in the management of our family prairie and it had been a while since my last sighting. I wish I could tell you whether it was there because of some overseeding I did a few years ago or because it had been there a long time without me noticing it. Either way, it was really nice to find it.

Purple coneflower (Echinacea angustifolia)

Access to bare ground is crucial for many animals, including a lot of ground nesting bee species, bandwing grasshoppers, various invertebrate predators, and lots of others. Some of those need areas nearly free of any vegetation, but many just need places where the soil isn’t covered by a thick layer of thatch. Last year’s grazing removed most of the plant material from this part of the pasture and also tempered the growth of dominant grasses. The result was that there was lots of great habitat for species that need both bare soil and abundant sunlight.

The bare ground created by last year’s grazing made important habitat for lots of creatures, including this tiger beetle larva hunting at the top of its burrow.
This narrow stink bug was well-camouflaged on its favorite food plant – sideoats grama.
This fly was killed by a fungus that made it crawl to the top of this fleabane plant before dying. Read more about that here.
This bush katydid thought it was hiding from me by sitting still.

The following slideshows provide a visual journey through the 2024 season, from May through October. There are also two additional slideshows at the end, featuring lady beetles and crab spiders. If you’re reading this in an email, these slideshows will display as grids of images. If you click on the title of the post at the top of the email, you’ll be able to view this post online and will be able to scroll through the slideshow and see larger versions of the photos.

May Slideshow

June Slideshow

July/August Slideshow

September/October Slideshow

Finally, here are two last (short) slideshows featuring lady beetles and crab spiders. Why did I choose to highlight these two groups separately? That’s a great question. We all make decisions, don’t we?

Lady Beetles

Crab Spider Slideshow

For any of you who made it this far, I hope you enjoyed the results of this project. For me, it was a like a more relaxed version of my square meter project, in that I visited the same spot over and over through the season. An 80×80 foot plot seemed like a whole universe compared to that square meter, though.

Hopefully, the photos helped you visualize the ways in which a prairie can respond to cattle grazing. This single example, of course, shouldn’t be used to predict how other prairies might respond to similar management, though it was pretty typical of what I’ve seen on numerous sites in central Nebraska.

The most important message is that prairies have a lot of resilience built into them and it’s fascinating to watch that resilience on display. There are lots of good/right ways to manage prairies, depending upon your objectives, and we surely haven’t explored all of those yet. It’s ok to experiment with new approaches to see what happens. How else will we learn?

Prairie Pet Peeves (Part 1)

I’m generally a pretty happy person. Negativity tends to slide off my back. I hope this blog reflects that. I try to keep it pretty positive and full of wonder and exploration, not loaded with complaints, gripes, and negativity. I also appreciate alliteration, actually.

However.

Even I, Mr. Optimistic, have a few pet peeves related to my favorite topic of prairie conservation. Prepare yourself for some (mild) crankiness because I’m going to share three of those pet peeves with you today. They’re not the full list of my peeves. I don’t want to hit you too hard all at once. I still want to be friends at the end of this.

I’ll preface this by saying none of these are really a big deal. I don’t want people getting mad at me or thinking I’m mad at them. My primary intent is to generate thought and conversation.

1.) State Insects.

I think it’s terrific that 48 out of 50 states in the U.S. have a designated state insect – or some variation on that theme. Awesome. What’s less terrific is that fourteen of those states (29%) have the European honeybee as their state insect, including my home state of Nebraska. (Several other states have the honeybee as their “state agricultural insect”. That’s fine.)

European honeybees are really cool. They’re also a livestock species from Europe. Why are they our state insect here in Nebraska?

How embarrassing, that with all the incredible native invertebrate diversity on this continent, fourteen states couldn’t come up with anything better than a non-native livestock species to celebrate as their state insect. What’s your state bird? The chicken? Also, do you have no imagination? Why pick the same insect species lots of other states have already chosen?

I’d also like to know why Connecticut decided the European mantis was the best choice for their state insect. Seriously? You can do better, Connecticut.

The fact that both the honey bee and European mantis are from other places isn’t really my gripe, or at least I’m not coming at this with an anti-immigrant angle. My point is that if you’re going to choose one insect species out of many thousands of options, wouldn’t you want to pick something that represents the unique character of your state? A species that is tied to a habitat or place you’re proud of?

There are innumerable options for a good Nebraska state insect. I’ll just pitch my personal favorite – the camouflaged looper. IT DECORATES ITSELF WITH PIECES OF THE FLOWERS IT EATS. Come on…

Now, lots of states went further, and included a state butterfly in addition to a state insect. I love that. It’s a great way to celebrate and highlight insects most people feel good about (and I think all of those state butterflies are native species). I didn’t, however, see any state with an officially-designated state fly. Ah, well, I’m sure that will come.

2.) Native Plant Purists in Home Landscaping

Given my first peeve, this one might seem a little ironic, but stick with me. Also, who says pet peeves have to be logical?

I get really frustrated by people who promote the idea that you should use ONLY native plants in your yard. Or, even worse, people who are contemptuous of people who like plants like daffodils, zinnias, or other showy plants that aren’t native to their local area.

Monarchs seem very happy with the zinnias in our yard. Also, we think they’re pretty.

Hey purists – chill out. People who are fortunate enough to have their own yard should be allowed to design it in a way that brings them joy. There are limits to that, of course. Don’t be planting invasive species. But zinnias aren’t spreading into my state’s native ecosystems and displacing other plant species. Daffodils aren’t forming huge monocultures and reducing the diversity and resilience of habitats. If daffodils and zinnias make me happy, what’s it to you?

I love the fact that native plants are becoming more popular in landscaping. They often require less water than non-natives, which is good. More importantly, they provide important resources for native invertebrates and other species. Even more importantly, I’d argue, they help promote and normalize native wildflowers, grasses, and prairies. Keep up that native plant promotion.

At the same time, zealotry rarely ends well. If we badger people about harmless choices, we lose credibility and turn them away. It’s great to encourage and celebrate the use of native plants in landscaping, but we don’t have to bad-mouth people who enjoy having some tulips or petunias to look at. Instead, let’s put our energy into more important efforts like moderating the use of pesticides, fertilization, and irrigation in landscaping.

Missouri evening primrose is one of our favorite native plants in our yard (even though it’s only native to the very southern edge of Nebraska).

We just moved to a new house last year and are excited to populate the yard with a wide range of plants, but not all of them will be native – similar to what we did at our old house.

3.) Aiming for Pre-European Settlement Conditions

Ok, now I’m getting into more dangerous territory. I don’t want to squash anyone’s dreams, and there are a lot of really well-intentioned people out there doing great work with the goal of turning the clock back on their local landscape. I was one of those people back in college, along with everyone else in our college wildlife club.

That said, it’s just not how things work.

There are lots of reasons you shouldn’t try to convert a landscape back to what it looked like back in the 1700’s or 1400’s, or whatever you think defines “Pre-European Settlement Conditions.” I’ll list a few here:

  • The climate today is very different from what it was back then. Species and ecosystems are strongly tied to climate conditions. Just one crucial example is that woody plants are much more competitive with today’s higher atmospheric carbon dioxide levels than they were several hundred years ago. That’s not even mentioning the importance of temperature and precipitation patterns on both plant and animal communities.
  • Other key factors in the environment are also different, including nutrient inputs. In central Nebraska, for example, we see Nitrogen deposition rates through both air and water in our grasslands, which has a significant impact on plant competition. As land managers, we have no direct control over those inputs.
  • Invasive species are inescapable. Or, more accurately, they have escaped and we have to account for their presence and impact. Most prairie stewards are constantly struggling to keep invasives from reducing biological diversity and ecological resilience.
  • In most places, our prairies exist today in small, relatively isolated fragments. We’ve lost our large predators and other wide-ranging animals. Populations of browsers, pollinators, parasitoids, hemi-parasites, and many other key players in ecosystems are missing or vastly changed. You can’t eliminate those ecosystem components without huge cascading effects.
  • A previously-farmed site isn’t going to turn into something that looks and acts like nearby unplowed prairies (let alone the prairies of the 1400’s) just because you add seeds of native plants and then manage it well. The soil texture and microfauna aren’t there, for one thing. More importantly, unplowed prairies look as they do because of thousands of years of evolution and adaptation to the human stewardship they’ve received. A newly planted prairie won’t have any of that.
This prairie is small, surrounded by trees, and embedded within a town. It isn’t ever going to look like a pre-European prairie. That doesn’t reduce its value at all.

None of this means prairies are doomed, or that we should give up on restoration or stewardship efforts. It just means we can’t focus on the past as we develop objectives and measure success. Just as the species and communities we care about are adapting to the world around them, it’s imperative that we keep adapting our restoration and stewardship techniques and objectives to keep up with changing conditions. I wrote much more on this topic last year if you want to dig in more.

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Well, there you go – three gripes from someone who tries not to gripe very often. Thank you for letting me get those off my chest. Feel free to disagree and share your own perspective. Heck, you can even share your own prairie-related pet peeves, too, as long as you can do it without attacking anyone. You’re usually very good at that, by the way. Thank you.

I’ll end with a little positivity. I am constantly inspired and energized by the people working on prairie stewardship and conservation across the country (and world). In the face of rapidly changing conditions and a public that largely doesn’t know or care about grasslands, there is a lot of innovative and adaptive work going on.

People are learning and sharing lessons through formal and informal networks and it gives me tremendous optimism for the future. As one of many examples, check out the Grassland Restoration Network blog started by Bill Kleiman and contributed to by many different authors.

Happy New Year!