Tag: <span>prescribed burn</span>

Speculations on Natural History

Fire, Part 3

After the success of my accidental burn in 2017 I was interested in accomplishing a well-planned controlled burn on a 20 acre prairie a half mile north of the restoration site in the spring of 2018. This prairie had been used as a pasture till the 1960’s, hayed intermittently for another decade, and then not used in any way for the past 40 years. It was a poster child for the need to manage prairies to save them, covered by thick stands of Kentucky bluegrass (Poa pratensis) and smooth brome (Bromus inermis). I had gathered some seed on this piece in the fall of 2017 and found native plant diversity and density to be disappointing, except on the droughtiest hilltops. There was no longer a fence to allow grazing and it is a very awkward piece to hay; the only reasonable choice for management seemed to be a lighted match.

I contracted with Ben Lardy, a Pheasants Forever employee who has been working with me throughout the process, to create a burn plan, and to gather and manage a crew to do the burn. With help from Pete Bauman, the range extension specialist for South Dakota State University (and an ex Nature Conservancy employee who had been part of many burns), Ben came up with a good plan that I approved. About May 20 the availability of the crew intersected with a perfect day and sufficient cool season grass growth to create a wonderful burn. Literally every square foot burned right to the ground during the well controlled fire. We would have a chance to see what could be accomplished.

A map of Ben’s burn plan. Black smudges are back burns. (Photo by Ben Lardy)
As it all winds down (Photo by Ben Lardy).
Ten days after the burn

The results can be evaluated over the two primary environments: xeric hills mostly covered by Kentucky bluegrass and mesic valleys with a thick stand of brome and Canadian thistles (Cirsium canadense).

The results on the hills were dramatic. The perfect conditions for the burn caught the Kentucky bluegrass about to head and did some serious damage to it. The native warm season grasses which were there had the whole summer to grow before the cool weather of the fall allowed vigorous bluegrass growth. The blue grama (Bouteloua gracilis), released from bondage, made spectacular growth, pushing out many two inch long seedheads. I’m assuming that some of those seeds fell into openings created by the fire which will allow new seedling establishment. Apart from the new seedlings, the blue grama will undoubtedly expand because of crown and root reserves built with the summer’s carbohydrates.

Off the crest of the hills in the less xeric conditions many bunches of prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis) used the opportunity to expand. I had hardly noticed dropseed in the past, but thick clumps of four foot tall seedheads and the attendant vegetative growth dotted the hillsides. There was enough seed that I felt free to gather a couple pounds, while still leaving plenty to drop.

A third warm season grass that will see long term benefits is prairie sandreed (Calamovilfa longifolia). I had noticed one large patch on a hillside for many years, obvious as a pale green area in the summer and a rusty colored circle after maturity. After the burn I saw many additional mini-patches expanding all over the hills, as rhizomatous growth turned what might have been individual plants into sizable patches. Seeds waved 5-6 feet in the air.

Ben Lardy with a very tall sandreed seedhead, almost 7′ tall

What was most dramatic, though were the gardens of wildflowers. Not only were there expanses of the usual suspects such as leadplant (Amorpha canescens), black samson (Echinacea angustifolia), dotted gayfeather (Liatris punctata) and stiff sunflower (Helianthus pauciflorus), but also smaller patches of silky aster (Symphyotricum sericeum), heath aster (Symphyotrichum ericoides), scarlet gaura (Gaura coccinea), whorled milkweed (Asclepias verticillata) and hairy goldaster (Heterotheca villosa). The poor pictures I have posted can only hint at what I saw. It was glorious.

A gaggle of gayfeathers

Unfortunately I can’t say saw similar results on the 4-5 acres of mesic soils dominated by brome. Forty years with no harvesting had allowed the brome to eliminate competition. In this area, a broad saddle between two ridges, brome and its unholy partner, Canada thistle, grew back as thick as they had been before the fire. On a ring around the top of the saddle, where the brome grades into the Kentucky bluegrass, clumps of dropseed, big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii) and indiangrass (Sorghastrum nutans) were able to expand, and hopefully continue to expand in 2019. Below is a picture of a large area of leadplant trying to work its way downhill into the brome.

Notably, one mesic forb did make dramatic growth, American licorice (Glychyrrhiza lepidota). There had always been a couple areas near the wet draw that bisects the site, but the short period of release from brome competition engendered racehorse rhizomatous growth. The rhizomes seemed to have grown 15 feet up the hill, though much of that was probably bud release on already existing rhizomes. Last fall when I was collecting seed it was quick work filling a five gallon bucket which turned into a pound of seed after shelling. If the snow had not been so deep this winter it would have been fun to get back there on a nice mid-winter day to fill a pail or two. Below is a view of what is now an acre of licorice.

If things go well this fall, I will have a neighbor, Andrew Butler, build a high tensile electric fence around the prairie and graze it in rotation with a neighboring pasture soon. My wife’s grazing project (She grazes 80-85 cows on a 340 acre block of native grass divided into 8 paddocks) has shown that you can decimate brome with repeated fall grazing, and hopefully Andrew and I can finesse the movement of his cattle to allow warm season grasses to recolonize the brome.

One negative result of the burn was the discovery of several patches of yellow toadflax (Linaria vulgaris) aka butter and eggs. I had never noticed toadflax on this prairie, but it was also released by the removal of cool season grass competition. I did some herbicidal control to keep the patches from spreading, but need to develop a plan for 2019. Toadflax is evil shit, and I may have to consider full chemical warfare to eliminate the patches, though I plan to seek advice before making a decision.

There is a third environment I have not yet mentioned, a linear wetland that bisects the prairie, and the edge of the slough it drains into. Though much of this had standing water when burned, the thick cover (mostly cattails) burned almost to water level. Obviously, a fire doesn’t have the same effect in this wet environment, but a variety of facultative wetland forbs grew along the edges and worked their way into the mass of cattails. I have limited need of wetland seed for my restoration, so I spent only a small amount of time gathering seed there, mostly swamp milkweed (Asclepias incarnata) and Joe Pye weed (Eutrochium maculatum). However, I do hope to spend more time there this summer, as my knowledge of wetland plants is limited and I would like to learn more.

Joe pye weed hanging out with some friends

Finally, I think it relevant to mention what I didn’t see after the fire. I didn’t see prairie junegrass (Koelaria macrantha) increase; I didn’t see pasqueflower (Anemone patens) increase (though it was interesting to see plants blooming in June after the fire). I didn’t find any groundplum milkvetch (Astragalus crassicarpus), prairie violets (Viola pedatifida) or puccoon (Lithospermum canescens). As might be expected from a late spring fire, I failed to help the cool season natives. This was a very different result from my accidental fire in early April the year before. Some of those cool season natives might be missing; this prairie is not as diverse as the neighboring prairies. But everything has a cost, and a failure to help the cool season natives was the fee I paid to attain the other benefits. This was probably the best that I could expect from a single fire event. Now I look forward to managing the 20 acres with grazing and look forward very eagerly to what will grow in 2019.

Speculations on Natural History

Fire Part 1

The regenerative and restorative properties of fire in native landscapes are detailed everywhere in conservation literature. One reads that the lack of fire has negatively impacted almost every landscape, because almost every landscape developed with periodic fires. After a while fire seems almost gentle, or nurturing. Anyone who has fought a fire, even a trash fire that got away, knows that fire is scary shit. Farmers, however, are fairly experienced and comfortable with fire. There is always a garbage pit, a pile of tree branches or some four year old hay bales that need burning. So with that experience informing my thoughts, in early 2017 I began to think about burning 23 acres of native grass hayland.

In early April I was wandering in that prairie trying to imagine how I could make a safe burn happen. There were grazed pastures on three sides which would be pretty easy to manage around, but the north side has a winding boundary with 37 acres of CRP I had planted several years before. The CRP was a tangled mass of tall grass, sweet clover and wormwood sage which would be difficult to manage around. How could I do a safe back burn? How many people would it take to complete a safe burn? How soon could I start preparing?

While I pondered this I knelt down to assess how ready the old foliage was to burn. The ground was still wet from recently melted snow and frost still in the ground. I grabbed a fistful of grass, took out some matches and lit it. The grass flared right up, and then things began to go horribly wrong. What had been a dead still day suddenly blew up a gust that started some surrounding grass on fire. As I calmly was stomping that out another gust and then another started other fires around my feet. It was suddenly beyond my ability to stomp out. Panicking a bit now, I took off my vest to help smother the flames. My vest, made of a witches brew of petrochemical derivatives, was fuel to the fire. Before my hands were encased in molten plastic I dropped the vest to survey the situation.

Though the fire was still only burning an area of 10-20 square feet it was evident that I could not put it out. I began to walk back to my pickup, perhaps 200 feet upwind, to drive to the neighbors while I called the fire in to the local fire department. I reached into my pants pocket for my phone, and realized that the phone was in my vest pocket, merrily burning away in the blackening landscape. Worse yet, when I got to the pickup I found that I had pulled the keys (which I almost never do) and they were also in my vest pocket. That would not have been so bad, but the keys to my Dodge were also plastic. More fuel for the fire. Not good.

A smart phone is an inadequate tool when paired with a stupid operator

As the fire expanded, more quickly now, the breeze became a steady 10 mph from the south, I considered my options. The neighborhood is fairly empty, and the only neighbor I knew would be home lived over two miles northwest of where I was. I began to walk. And as I walked I saw two things. First, the fire was backing steadily towards my pickup, which meant I might no longer have a vehicle when I returned. Second, the fire would soon reach the CRP, and we would see some fireworks.

As I walked north on the section line trail the fire hit the CRP to my left and it exploded. Flames shot 10-12 feet in the air and the burning front accelerated as bits of burning plants blew ahead and ignited new areas. Though I was walking on the dirt trail, I was just a few feet from the CRP and I was intimidated into crossing the fence to the east to put more distance between myself and the fire. Soon the fire jumped the trail and started crawling into the pasture, though I was staying ahead of it.

Both the fire and I had now passed the pasture to where the CRP bordered a neighbor’s 120 acre winter wheat field planted into the previous year’s stubble. Here was the biggest financial risk of the day; if the winter wheat sustained substantial damage we were talking real money. As I looked back it appeared the fire was unable to burn into the wheat, but I didn’t wait to see as I had only walked half a mile, and still had two miles to go.

The CRP field comes to a point on its north end, bordered by the section line trail on its east side and the curving shoreline of Anderson Lake on its northwest side. The only path forward was for the fire to burn into the shrubby growth along the lake. This slowed the fire down while I advanced ahead along the lakeshore far enough to lose sight of the fire. Eventually it would come north to another winter wheat field and I still had a mile and a half to walk. Time was of the essence, but health problems related to cancer treatments twelve years ago have limited my breathing to where I cannot run,. I am, however, walking like a son-of-a-bitch, now halfways to the neighbor’s. Finally, while still a half mile away, I saw a pickup stopped on the township road wondering who the crazy fool was walking across his alfalfa field. The neighbor, Derek Butler, figured it out and drove out to pick me up. Before he could speak I said, “Call the fire department and take me over to my hayland to see if I still have a pickup.

Yellow X is where fire began. Area in red is approximate area of burn. Outlined field top center is winter wheat field. Black outline in lower left is boundary of my land.

It had been a tough day. I had done something careless and stupid, and now I would get to see the results. I was at peace with paying for the fire department to come. I was at peace with paying Derek for any damage done to his winter wheat. I was past the rationalizations we all do when we fuck up to minimize our personal responsibility for the consequences of our actions. I was ready to bow my head and do some serious penance. However, my luck had changed, beginning with running into Derek.

First, Derek’s brother Andrew was on the Waubay Volunteer Fire Department, and Derek gave him a call. It turns out the entire crew was at a training exercise with all their equipment, so within 20 minutes I had the entire crew out on my prairie, hoses blazing.

Second, when Derek crested the hill south of my hayland I saw that my pickup was safe. The fire had burned underneath my pickup, but the grass on the knob where I had parked was short, and the fire was comparatively cool. The pickup smelled like smoke for a few weeks, but no real harm done.

Third, the damage to the winter wheat was so minimal that no recompense was necessary. The fire had burned all or part of two pieces of hayland, the CRP, a 40 acre pasture and the brush along the lake, but not an acre of any neighbor’s land.

Fourth, I provided great entertainment for the Waubay fire crew, the neighbors who came to see the show and the county emergence services manager (who teased me mercilessly), and provided a wonderful training exercise for the fire crew. The crew got to try out some new equipment in the field, ran all around the prairie hills containing borders and had everything wrapped up so quickly they were home in time for supper. The teasing was welcomed by me because by this time I welcomed a little humiliation. In the end the whole day was considered their scheduled training exercise and I was not charged for their work.

Finally to put a coda on the tale, I went into the county Farm Service Agency (FSA) the next week to report the fire. Judy, the employee in charge of CRP, looked over my file and asked only one question: “Did it all burn?” I told her it burned very well. She then told me that I was scheduled for mid-contract vegetation removal that year. With a smile she checked the metaphorical box and I was given credit for efficiency. Rather than have to pay Butlers to hay the CRP that summer and then destroy the bales, I was rewarded for my foolishness.

The saying is that “karma’s a bitch”. Karma is also sometimes a kind and generous companion. While I am afraid there is an overdrawn karma account that will need some serious deposits soon, all one can do in the face of such things is to bow humbly, smile and move on.