Hey friends — welcome back to your Fat Wallets podcast. I’m happy you’re here.
Today I want to take you on a walk. Not a fancy walk. Not a conference-hotel-carpet walk. I mean a slow walk through a pasture that’s been stockpiled for six or seven months. The stems are tall. The color’s gone caramel. The cattle are quiet. You can hear your own footsteps.
And if you dig down — just a little — something feels different.
Softer. Spongier. Alive.
That feeling right there — that’s what we’re talking about today.
Because there’s a story under that pasture — one involving fungi, microbial necromass, glomalin, and long-lived soil carbon — and I want to tell it in plain language. No lab coats required: just curiosity, some healthy respect for biology, and a willingness to look under the hood.
Here’s the pattern ranchers and graziers keep reporting:
Not overnight. Not magically. But over the years:
Grasses and legumes can respond like teenagers after summer vacation — all energy and leafy enthusiasm.
So the question is: Why?
What changes underground when we let grass grow unchecked for the whole green season?
And here’s the working theory — one I think is both biologically plausible and consistent with what producers are seeing:
As grasses mature into a stockpile, the chemistry of their root exudates shifts — away from mainly sugars and toward more amino acids and fatty acids. This shift favors fungi. Fungi process plant and microbial biomass into compounds that become microbial necromass — the backbone of long-lived soil carbon.
Let’s unwrap this carefully.
Plants leak carbon through their roots on purpose.
That carbon is not waste.
It’s currency — used to recruit microbes.
And early in the growing season, most of that carbon looks like:
If microbes had a junk-food aisle, that’s it.
And who thrives on quick sugars?
Bacteria.
They’re like sprinters:
Fast-growing, high-metabolism, short-lived.
That’s not bad. Bacteria are essential. But they rarely dominate systems that build persistent carbon.
Now, as the plant matures into a stockpile, things change.
Stress rises.
Photosynthesis dynamics shift.
Nutrient demands shift.
And the plant begins feeding the soil a more complex diet:
This isn’t candy anymore. This is stew.
And fungi love stew.
So the fungal: bacterial ratio rises — slowly, quietly, season by season — wherever we allow perennial plants to mature and rest.
That’s the first piece of the story.
Fungi do three things that make them extraordinary partners in building carbon:
Fungal hyphae stretch through soil like a living thread.
They bind particles. They stabilize aggregates. They create architecture.
Fungi handle:
And they do so with relatively high carbon-use efficiency — meaning less CO₂ lost per unit of microbe biomass created.
They also eat microbes.
And when those microbes — and the fungi themselves — die?
Their cell-wall fragments become microbial necromass.
And that necromass is what binds to minerals — especially clays and silts — forming MAOM: mineral-associated organic matter.
This is the slow carbon.
The good stuff.
The savings account.
Not the loose straw on the soil surface — but the fine, dark material bound to the soil itself.
We can’t talk fungi without talking about arbuscular mycorrhizal fungi — AMF.
These quiet partners slip inside root cells and exchange nutrients for carbon. They are abundant in perennial pasture systems — especially when we avoid tillage and excessive fertilizers.
AMF produce glomalin-related soil proteins — often just called glomalin.
Glomalin:
Think: rebar inside concrete.
And when does AMF thrive?
When roots are alive for a long time.
Like in a stockpiled perennial pasture.
So when we stockpile, we’re not just building plant biomass.
We’re feeding fungal architecture.
And when the cattle finally graze the stockpile?
The system pulses — vigorous regrowth from full energy reserves — microbes bloom — necromass forms — and glomalin helps protect the structure.
This cycle repeats.
And the soil deepens — literally — and functionally.
Yes. Stockpiled forage loses quality.
We know that. We plan for that. We manage our livestock needs accordingly, mainly by having them give birth during the green season, as in nature.
But here’s the thing:
Soil fertility goes up.
And grass that comes back afterward?
Much better volume and quality.
Because the microbial system under it has matured.
This is the part I love most:
The livestock are just one type of grazer.
The microbes are grazing too.
And fungi are the shepherds of the underground.
Necromass is just a nerd-word for dead microbial bodies.
But the important part is:
Because microbial cell walls contain:
These aren’t fragile.
They’re persistent.
And they bind to minerals extremely well.
That bond is what stabilizes soil carbon.
Not magic.
Not slogans.
Just chemistry.
So the chain looks like this:
🌱 plant carbon via root exudates
→ 🦠 microbial biomass
→ ☠ microbial necromass
→ 🧲 mineral binding
→ 🧱 stable soil carbon
And fungi play roles at every stage.
Three main reasons:
Older plants = richer exudates = fungal advantage
Rest = hyphal continuity = mycorrhizal persistence
Defoliation after full energy reserves = vigorous regrowth
Not endlessly.
Not slavishly.
Just rhythmically.
Here’s how I see it:
Bacterial-dominant systems cycle nutrients fast. Great for annual crops. Great for nitrogen release.
Fungal-influenced systems store carbon and water. Great for perennials. Great for resilience.
Pasture — thoughtfully grazed — sits beautifully between the two.
Because if we don’t? Then we get:
Shading.
Smothering.
Seedling suppression.
So this isn’t “lock it up forever.”
This is grow it long — then graze it clean — then rest it well.
That’s the dance.
And the soil responds.
This field of science is still evolving.
There are debates.
Definitions shift.
“Glomalin” is still being refined as a term.
Necromass measurements are complex.
But the direction is solid:
And producers have been noticing the results long before the papers were written.
I trust producers.
And I respect the science.
They strengthen each other.
It means:
And recognize that every restful season of stockpile…
…may be building a little more long-term soil wealth.
Not so much as carbon credits.
But as resilience.
And resilience is priceless.
Next time you walk into a stockpiled paddock — dry stems brushing your boots — try this:
Pause.
Imagine beneath you:
Tiny fungal threads weave the soil together.
Microbes cycle life into death, then back to life again.
Cell-wall fragments bind to clay.
Glomalin glues aggregates like honey in oatmeal.
And every day…
a thin whisper of new carbon
nestles into the soil
Where roots feed soil life.
Quiet.
Faithful.
Patient work.
The kind of work the land understands.
And the kind of work
That happens when we
Get out of the way
just a little
And let the pasture grow over mature when stockpiling.
Thanks for being here with me today.
It means something that you care this much.
This is Jim Elizondo from Real Wealth Ranching
May God bless you and your family!
To learn more about what I teach, go to www.rwranching.com/learn
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