Johnson grass (Sorghum
halepense) is
considered one of the ten worst weeds in the world…and our chickens
love it.  The large, clumping grass is native to the Mediterranean
region, but has been introduced nearly worldwide.  Not only does
Johnson grass spread like mad, horses and cattle can die after eating
wilted, frosted, or drought-stressed foliage due to the leaves’ high
hydrogen cyanide content.  Unwilted leaves produced during cloudy
weather can cause bloat because of nitrates in the grass.



There’s one clump of
Johnson grass at the edge of our chicken pasture, and our chickens peck
it bare every time they’re present.  Given the species’
relationship to sorghum, I suspect the chickens are attracted to
sweetness (although I haven’t nibbled a leaf to test my hypothesis
out.)  Or perhaps the draw is the high protein content — 9 to
15.5% of the dry weight.



Despite its rating as a
weed, Johnson grass is planted in many southern pastures, and there are
even named varieties available.  Our plant is so hardy that a
couple of weeks’ rotation away is enough to let new leaves shoot up
from the roots, giving our chickens an eternal buffet.



To be honest, I’m not
100% sure our chickens’ beloved grass clump is Johnson grass, but I
suspect it is due to the large leaves.  I’m hesitant to tell
anyone to plant Johnson grass in their pasture for all of the reasons
mentioned above, but my chickens tell you to go for it.

My husband and I homestead on 58 acres, most of which
is woodland.  On three sides, our land butts up against other
wooded properties, and the fourth side is bordered by a seldom-visited
hayfield, so the whole place is deer heaven.  Keeping the deer out
of our one acre cleared zone (home to chickens, a huge garden, and a
young orchard) has been a neverending struggle.  This year, we
finally figured out a long term solution — chicken moats.

Chicken moats are a
permaculture technique of using linear chicken pastures along a
boundary to keep deer at bay.  The pastures repel deer by striking
at the deer’s Achilles heel — fear of being stuck in an enclosed
space with nowhere to run to.  Although our resident deer could
jump over each 5 foot fence enclosing the chickens, they’d then be
stuck in a small space that would require yet more leaps to
escape.  We check on our chickens at least twice a day (often much
more often), so the confusing fences are mixed in with recent human
scent.  The whole package has served to keep our back and mule
gardens completely deer free all year, despite deer damage in the
unmoated upper garden.

We’re currently working on a new
chicken pasture to protect more of our southern boundary, and in the
process are learning another useful feature of chicken moats.  We
started our homestead from scratch, and it feels like the forest is
always encroaching on our edges — it’s hard to know when to stop
mowing and let the wilds take over.  A chicken moat at the border
of our garden puts a solid end to the mowing zone, which will help us
feel more in control. 



I’m already thinking of
training hardy kiwis up the pasture fence to triple the utility of the
chicken moat.  Maybe in a few more years, our chicken pastures
will have four or five purposes, all for the price of a few rolls of
chicken wire and some T-posts.