A Wilder Peace: Managing Cemetery Grounds for Wildlife

Some mornings, just after dawn, I’ll see the red-tailed hawk back in the old oak that overlooks Section G. He’s not a visitor. He lives here. So do the rabbits in the overgrown hedgerow by the back wall, and the garter snakes sunning themselves on the warm granite of the Civil War memorials. This ground belongs to them, too. Caring for it, for them, is part of the job.

For decades, the ideal for cemetery grounds was the golf course: perfectly green, uniform, cut short. An aesthetic like that takes immense resources—water, fuel, fertilizer, labor. It also creates a lawn where nothing can live. We had to find a different way.

From Lawn to Living Landscape

This shift doesn’t mean letting the grounds fall into neglect. It means making deliberate choices that support what is already here. Managed wildness, not abandonment. That work starts with the soil under our feet.

We started by rethinking the mower. In our less-visited, historic sections, we now mow only once a month. The turf grew longer, and clover and native violets, long suppressed, came back. The benefit was immediate: more pollinators for our flowering trees and stronger root systems that reduced erosion on the hillsides. For high-traffic areas around recent interments, we maintain a traditional cut. The new sections stay trim. The older ones, we let breathe.

We also began a slow retreat from broad-spectrum chemical treatments. Instead of spraying an entire section for thistle, we spot-treat the invasive plants. We brought in predatory insects to manage aphids on the roses. This requires a deeper knowledge of the grounds. You have to walk the sections, not just drive them.

The Architecture of a Sanctuary

A healthy habitat needs structure. Layers. We are fortunate to have inherited good bones here, and our work is to build on them.

• Trees and Snags: The mature trees are the backbone of this place. We follow a careful pruning regimen for safety and health, but when an old maple finally fails, we don’t always take the whole trunk. If it’s safe, leaving a six- or ten-foot “snag” gives a home to woodpeckers, owls, and the insects they feed on.
• Water Sources: Most cemeteries have no natural water. A simple, clean bird bath, placed in a quiet corner, can make all the difference, especially during a dry spell. We installed two near the older, wooded sections. They are in constant use.
• Edges and Corridors: The edges of the property, the lines between sections, the unplotted verges—these are opportunities. Letting a hedgerow grow thick and tangled gives small mammals and nesting birds a way to get around unseen. At Elm Ridge, we designated one undeveloped acre near the perimeter as a native meadow. Seeding it with local grasses and coneflowers was an investment, but its annual upkeep is a fraction of what mowing it would cost.

The quiet work of groundskeeping is to see the cemetery not as a static collection of memorials, but as a place of slow cycles—of memory, of seasons, of decay making way for new life.

Stewarding Both Memory and Meadow

Any change has to be done with respect. Families entrust their loved ones to our care, and the grounds must always feel looked after. Wild cannot look like forgotten.

So we explain the work. Small, elegant bronze plaques can mark a change in approach. A sign near a wildflower meadow might read: “Pollinator Habitat. This area is managed to support local bees and butterflies.” When we speak with families making at-need arrangements, we talk about the cemetery’s role as a permanent green space in the community.

This work ensures the peace of these acres is not silence. It’s the hum of bees in the clover and the rustle of a sparrow in the hedge. It’s a different kind of peace. Our job is simply to give them a place to stay.