Manage the forest for many uses — judiciously

The Rio Grande Cutthroat Trout Conservation Strategy — a planning document for recovering our state fish throughout its occupied and potential range — was developed in 2013 as a proactive response to the cutthroat’s worsening predicament. An alternative “plan” relies on compelling through litigation the listing of the cutthroat under the Endangered Species Act.

The Conservation Strategy prioritizes habitat restoration and reducing competition with non-native trout species. At annual meetings attended by scientists from New Mexico and Colorado, progress is measured and projects are prioritized. In the unfortunate event that the Rio Grande cutthroat gets listed, it would behoove us to stay the current course, since the Conservation Strategy contains the most relevant science on the fish and was developed by people who actually understand the cutthroat’s predicament, as opposed to those who do not.

For the Mexican spotted owl, the path to recovery is less obvious, especially in the context of fuels reduction and New Mexico communities’ traditional uses of our forests. The problem is that we don’t know enough about where owls live, where they don’t, or in which direction their status is trending.

In the debate over fuels, the sentiment is growing louder that thinning and prescribed burning, described as logging by some, are bad for forests, and owls in particular. Projects are imprecise and are conducted at too large a scale. In arguing for a more hands-off approach, many now claim that high-severity fire may actually benefit the owl as post-fire regrowth occurs.

Since 2011, more than 1 million acres of forest have burned across New Mexico and Arizona, much of it, one assumes, in high-severity fashion. I’m willing to believe that much of this country is healing into excellent habitat for owls. And I’m at least tempted to believe that the best approach to delisting owls is to leave forests alone and let this gift keep on giving.

What hangs me up, though, is the fact that most of those fires took place in late May to late June, when many owlets are still nest-bound or recently fledged. How many owlets were killed in those fires? A lot? None?

It also troubles me that the cutthroat’s life cycle overlaps significantly with the owl’s, their young being born and reared in the late spring and early summer. Historically, that’s when fires spawn as well, only these once-normal fires are now turbocharged by the combination of climate change and past mistakes.

Anyone who’s observed the aftermath of Las Conchas and Whitewater Baldy knows how high-severity fire cripples trout streams. Even without fire, streams are warming quickly. With fire, we see denuded riparian zones, springs gouged out by floods, aquatic insects buried by silt and ash. In many cases, these impacts are for keeps, rendering streams incapable of supporting the organisms that once lived there.

These problems on our landscape are becoming too profound to be laid solely at the feet of our scapegoats, be they “vindictive,” “cynical” or otherwise. We all bear responsibility for how these problems came to be. We are equally on task for how they should be fixed. Our forests aren’t as resilient as they once were. We must manage our forests for the broadest community of nature and people, for owls and trout, for grass to be grazed and firewood to heat our homes.

Precision and proper scaling must govern all of our forest management practices, not only our actions toward the land but toward each other. And no, we shouldn’t let high-severity fire just happen. It may have its ecological place, but so does the judicious application of thinning and prescribed fire.