Meadows, pastures, meadow-pastures: distinctions that matter

A meadow is an environment dominated by mowing. Grazing, if present, plays a secondary role. Plant composition is relatively stable, productivity is high, and management is intensive.

A pasture is the opposite: the main disturbances are trampling and grazing. Vegetation is more heterogeneous, species are adapted to continuous stress, and production is less predictable.

The meadow-pasture lies in between and has historically been one of the most intelligent solutions developed by mountain agriculture: spring mowing, summer–autumn grazing, and flexible rotations. Where this system has been abandoned, biodiversity loss has often been faster than elsewhere.

Fertility is not an absolute value

A common mistake is to judge a pasture solely by its “richness”. In reality, fertility must always be interpreted in relation to context.

Low-fertility pastures, poor in nutrients, are often those with the highest ecological value. Orchids, rare species, and specialized plant communities thrive precisely where productivity is low and competition is limited.

By contrast, excessive fertilization—often unintended—leads to floristic simplification, species loss, and landscape homogenization. A “lush green” pasture is not automatically a good pasture.

The key role of grazing

It is not only how much grazing occurs, but how it occurs. Stocking rate (that is, the number of grazing animals per unit area), seasonality, duration, and livestock species: every choice profoundly alters the ecosystem.

Overgrazing is visible and well known: erosion, bare soil, and loss of turf.

Undergrazing is more insidious: shrub encroachment, accumulation of dead biomass, and landscape closure. In many Alpine areas today, the problem is not an excess of animals, but their absence.

Grazing is a necessary ecological disturbance. Without disturbance, many pastures simply cease to exist.

Pastures and biodiversity: a non-obvious relationship

Pasture biodiversity is not “natural” in the strict sense of the term. It is co-constructed biodiversity, emerging from the historical interaction between traditional practices and ecological processes.

When management practices change too rapidly—through intensification or abandonment—this biodiversity collapses. It does not transform; it disappears. And what replaces it is not a “purer” ecosystem, but often a poorer and more unstable one [2].

Landscape, economy, culture

Pasture is also landscape. And landscape is not merely aesthetic: it is identity, economy, attractiveness, and collective memory. Alpine huts, summer farms, and open spaces are the result of centuries of work. Expecting to conserve them without those who manage them is a contradiction.

Every abandoned pasture is an ecological loss, but also a social one. Every poorly managed pasture is a silent loss — less visible, yet no less serious.

So, little pasture, who made thee?

You are made from a complex system.
You are made from sound — or unsound — management choices.
You are made from a fragile balance between humans and mountains.
You are made from an ecosystem that is built, maintained, and defended.

And if we want to keep asking the question, we should perhaps begin asking another, more uncomfortable one: who will maintain these pastures tomorrow?

Cover image: Curious kid goat. Malga Zolle di Dentro – Arsiero (Vicenza, Italy). Photo: Author. 04.07.2025