One of the things I love most about my work is the opportunity to explore the staggering beauty and complexity of nature – like how habitats recover from devastating massive fires. Why “massive” instead of “devastating?” The definition of “devastating” ais “ruinous,” “destroying,” “annihilating,” and so on. These are descriptions from a human perspective, whereas natural fires in natural habitats are not necessarily good or bad, they just are. And habitats have evolved ways to recover from natural fires.
We often hear people say that our native chaparral “needs” fire to be healthy. That’s not correct. Native chaparral plants don’t “need” fire but they are adapted to recovering from natural fires, and they do it in a variety of ways.
While fire can burn entire communities of trees, shrubs, perennials, etc. plants have different strategies for recovering. Shrubs like toyon (Heteromeles arbutifolia) and scrub oak (Quercus berberidifolia) sprout new branches from the base of each plant. Other plants like California lilac (Ceanothus) die in the fire. Seeds dropped from their flowers germinate the next spring, in response to chemicals in the smoke and ash from the fire.
In another example. last season, we visited endangered Tecate cypress (Hesperocyparis forbesii) with scientists from the Center for Plant Conservation. They explained how heat from fire causes the cypress cones to open and release seeds that otherwise stay sealed inside. The seeds sprout and grow a new generation of cypress.
And for some plants whose seeds normally sprout in spring, fire causes more seeds to sprout than usual. In place of the normal bloom, then, there can be a “super bloom.”
The plants that fascinate me the most are the “fire followers,” flowering annual plants that appear only in the first spring after fire. The beautiful melon colored fire poppy (Papaver californicum) falls into this category.
After the massive fires of 2007 here in San Diego County, I explored charred hillsides normally covered in olive green and silver-leaved chaparral shrubs. In their place, I found hillsides blanketed in intensely purple, large flowered Phacelia (Phacaelia grandiflora) and brilliant orange California poppies (Eschscholzia californica).
Amidst the purple and orange were flowers that looked a little different. They were melon-colored and perched atop tall, slender stems that waved in the breeze. Rather than the traditional cup-shaped poppies, these poppies’ petals formed delicate looking, flat flowers with distinctive chartreuse centers. These were fire poppies
Seeds of delicate-looking annual fire poppies live in the soil for years — decades even — until the smoke from fire stimulates their seeds to sprout. I saw the flowers again when we shot our segment of “The Big Bloom” in the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area. Last year, the Woolsey Fire charred nearly 100,000 acres in the region.
We walked the trails with Mark Mendelsohn, National Park Service biologist and Mark’s crew. And there, amidst the carpet of wildflowers, were the fire poppies – looking every bit as beautiful and delicate as I remembered.
As amazing as the post-fire bloom is, I hope I don’t see it again in my lifetime. Natural chaparral fires are ignited by lightening every 50 to 200 years. That gives chaparral plants plenty of time to recover in between. Human-caused chaparral fires happen far more often. Unfortunately, many chaparral plants can’t recover that quickly. Some, like Tecate cypress, take 10 years or longer before plants mature enough to produce seeds for their next generations. If/when habitats burn at shorter intervals, the plants are wiped out. The habitat is wiped out, and it never recovers.
Enjoy our episode on “The Big Bloom,” and join us in protecting native habitats in every way.
— Nan Sterman
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