Animals, Kids, and Fire
Some weeks when I’m at home on the ranch, I write on a variety of things. This week I’m going to fill you in on two things I’ve observed out here on the Monument Fire. Neither were extensive enough to make up an entire column.
I was asked an interesting question recently. “I saw the map of the Dixie Fire. It’s completely overtaken that area! Where do all the animals go?”
This made me really think. Those of us a certain age remember the terrifying images in the book “Bambi” of the big buck deer fleeing in abject terror from the massive flames destroying their forest. If you’re reading this, and have no earthly idea what image I’m talking about, ask Grandma or Grandpa to find it for you. Mom and Dad may not know, but the grandparents will. It’s on a shelf somewhere.
This question was asked by an individual who saw the map of the massive size of the Dixie Fire (885,954 acres as of this writing). The footprint of the fire is almost always colored in red. After all this is about fire. The edges of the red tint define the current edge of the fire, yet everything inside the edge is the same color. This might lead one to believe everything inside is nothing but ash and sticks. Yet, in many places that’s simply not the case.
Much of the burned area inside the red zone truly is badly scorched. Trees are nothing but sticks, the ground is covered with ash, and logs and timbers still smolder and smoke. But to say every inch of that area inside the red color is badly destroyed would be to greatly overstate the facts.
When fire roars, as depicted in the image of the big buck in Bambi, the sheer heat destroys most everything. But sometimes the fire is much more sedate, much less vicious, and not nearly as hot and destructive. The fire may burn through an area, crawling along in the grass or understory duff, sometimes burning a bush, but moving somewhat slowly, albeit inexorably. Some of the grasses and shrub may be burned, yet many may be left in tact and unscathed or only scorched a little. These shrubs are quite capable of providing browse for deer and other animals, immediately after the area cools down.
The thing to remember is simply this: fire isn’t new to the creatures of the forest. It’s a part of their world and their life. As such, it must be dealt with on a regular basis. In many instances, animals such as deer simply move to another ridge or out of the way of the impending fire. Rabbits, squirrels, and chipmunks crawl deep inside rock piles and hunker down there. When the fire passes over their area and everything cools down, they emerge to see what they can find.
Granted, some are going to succumb to the heat and destruction of fire. But in talking to firefighters who’ve spent many decades in the forest, they seldom see burned carcasses of animals destroyed by the fire.
Looking at a map of the perimeter of the Monument Fire where I’m working, you’ll see it’s spread across the Trinity Alps. It’s encompassing (as of this writing) 178,793 acres of amazing mountain country. This doesn’t mean you will find only ashes everywhere you look inside the footprint. Driving through the back roads on my duties, I can assure you some slopes are toast. Some are only slightly burned, while others are pristine. Yet all these areas will show up on a map as being inside the burn area of nearly 180,000 acres.
Along the southern border of the Monument Fire, to the west of the little community of Hayfork, the edge of the fire has been creeping closer and closer to the Hyampom Road. We were told by Operations, they would be bringing the fire to the edge of the road and let it burn out. When this is done, the roadway becomes a fire break.
For the past several days, my daily earlymorning run was carrying IAPS and Maps (Incident Action Plans and all the various maps for firefighters and their managers) to Bar 717 Ranch. This is a children’s camp acting as a Spike Camp for firefighters working the south side of the fire. My responsibility is to be at the Copy Trailer in the Weaverville Camp, where all the IAPS and Maps are printed, no later than 5:00 AM.
The drive to Bar 717 takes exactly 90 minutes. That puts me on site at 6:30. When the morning
Briefing is broadcast on one of the radio channels, the 25 or so managers and firefighters have a copy of the maps and IAP to follow along with Briefing and to use during their day.
This early morning drive takes me through Hayfork, and then along the Hyampom Road around 6 a.m., directly past where they were “bringing fire to the road.” The morning I turned a corner and found the hillsides all glowing with small fires, I knew they’d been busy all night tending to the relatively slow movement of the fire.
I noted on my thermometer on the dash of my truck, the temperature along the bottom of the creek that morning was a chilly 52 degrees. Then I got the giggles. One crew of firefighters, my impression was they were fairly young people, had obviously been up all night working this fire and they were tired. They were also apparently chilly.
As I eased along this paved road, I held well to the left side. Along the dry drainage ditch on my right were tired young people curled up in their Nomex and helmets. Since there were logs on the hillside above the road being burned by the encroaching fire, the kids made good use of them.
In several places they’d tugged a burning log or two into the drainage. Since the fire wasn’t going to get away, they curled up next to the resulting blaze to get warm and grab a quick bit of shut-eye. Of course, some managers would’ve been upset with them, but I had a good chuckle.