Wildfire Recovery at The Niobrara Valley Preserve – Asking The Big Questions

Most of you are familiar with the wildfire that affected our Niobrara Valley Preserve this summer.  Well, we’re still trying to regain our footing after that event.  A great deal of time and money has already been spent on rebuilding and redesigning infrastructure (especially fences), but there’s still much to do.  In addition, the staff of the Preserve, along with a few of us from around the state, has taken this opportunity to do some deep thinking about what the Preserve can be in the future.  It’s an incredible place, and we want to be sure it lives up to its potential.  I’ll share more about that process as the picture becomes more clear.

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The Niobrara River continues to flow through the Preserve, but much of the landscape looks pretty different since the fire.  Open grassy slopes such as this one will recover quickly, but more wooded areas will come back much more slowly.

In the meantime, we’re also trying to learn what we can from the 2012 wildfire so that we and others can be more prepared the next time something like this happens.  I’ve been asked to help organize this effort, which is an intriguing task for me since most of our questions are about woodlands – not exactly my area of expertise.  Fortunately, I’ve had some great advice from others, particularly Dr. Dave Wedin at the University of Nebraska, who is also generously helping us line up researchers and funding.  Other advice has come from a wide spectrum of foresters, ecologists, and others, and I appreciate it all.

I was up at the Preserve last week for another bison roundup (the west herd this time) and had some time to poke around in the hills and think about our current list of research ideas.  I think we’re honing in on a few important research directions, but we still have some thinking to do about how to ask and answer the right questions.  Since we’re at a good point to get feedback from others, I thought I’d lay out some of what we’re thinking and see if any of you have suggestions for us to consider.  If nothing else, those of you who are familiar with the Preserve, and concerned about the impacts of the fire, can get an update on the situation and a feel for where we’re going next.

Yucca are starting to regrow across the burned portions of the Preserve.  Many show signs of being eaten - there's not much else green out there!

Yucca are starting to regrow across the burned portions of the Preserve. Many show signs of being browsed by deer and other wildlife – there’s not much else green out there!

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Wild rose is another of the plants regrowing in the burned areas.  These woody plants, perennial grasses, and sedges make up the bulk of the surviving plants.

Wild rose is another of the plants regrowing in the burned areas. These and other perennials, including grasses, sedges, and wildflowers, are most abundant in open areas without dense stands of trees.

Our primary research objective is to learn lessons that will help us and others adapt our pre- and post-wildfire management in the future.  It would certainly be interesting to simply document the way in which plant and animal communities recover from the fire, but that has been done elsewhere.  With very limited resources, we’ll spend a little effort documenting how the Niobrara Valley Preserve recovers from the fire (including the use of time-lapse and other photography) but we want to focus most of our effort on learning things that we and others can actually use down the road.

Impacts of Tree Density

The first thing we want to know is how the density of eastern red cedar and ponderosa pine trees affected the way the fire burned  and (more importantly) the way the areas beneath the trees will recover.  In addition to the perennial plants that survived the fire, much of the future plant community in our former pine woodland will depend upon the seed bank (the collection of seeds sitting in the soil, ready to germinate when given the chance).  Unfortunately, areas under dense tree stands are also the most vulnerable to soil erosion.  Especially on steep slopes, wind and water erosion can quickly remove both seed and soil, leaving very little to support plant community recovery.  Since there were few herbaceous (non-woody) plants under dense tree stands, there is little to hold the soil (and the precious seeds in it) from washing and blowing away.  If seeds and soil go, it’s going to be a very long time before anything grows in those places.

Soil erosion will probably be an issue on steep slopes and under formerly dense stands of trees.

Soil erosion will probably be an issue on steep slopes and under formerly dense stands of trees.

We hope to correlate the amount of soil erosion with tree density and slope, and see how those factors affect plant community recovery.  Ideally, we can combine our data with what others have learned elsewhere and develop recommendations for future management.  We want to know how densely can we allow trees to grow before the site becomes vulnerable to severe erosion in the aftermath of a potential wildfire.  Hopefully, that information can help managers decide how to prioritize tree thinning operations.

Much of the erosion that's occurred so far appears to be wind erosion.  A 70 mph wind storm got sand moving in some areas.

Much of the erosion that’s occurred so far appears to be wind erosion. A 70 mph wind storm really got sand moving in some areas.

On a related topic, we want to see how cedar and pine density affected the survival of bur oak trees.  It’s clear that we’re going to have varying degrees of recovery among the oaks growing on the lower slopes of our pine woodlands.  Some of the oaks have already re-sprouted from the base, but others haven’t.  Those others are either completely dead or waiting to resume growth from the tips of their branches next year.  What could we have done as land managers to prevent oak mortality by thinning the cedars and pines near those oaks?

Many of the bur oaks in the burned area are re-sprouting from the base.

This oak is re-sprouting from the base – it’s still alive, but has to start it’s growth over from the ground.

Aiding Recovery

We also have questions about how best to manage the recovery of burned sites.  Some people are advocating seeding burned areas to speed up the establishment of herbaceous and/or woody plants.  There are numerous concerns about this, including what kind of seed would be used and whether or not it would actually make any difference.  We certainly want to avoid introducing plant species that could cause more problems than they solve, but the bigger question is whether or not seeding will make a difference when the most problematic areas are those where soil erosion rates are high.  Putting seed in those erodible areas probably won’t do much good. However, while we and most of our neighbors will probably not be doing large-scale seeding, we might consider a few small-scale trials to test the idea.  We could broadcast seeds in a few trial plots and see if the plant community establishes differently within those plots than elsewhere.

Aside from any seeding efforts, the recovery of ponderosa pines in large swaths of burned woodland is likely going to be dependent upon seed coming from unburned areas.  Because of the size of burned areas, that could take a very long time.  Is it worth trying to speed up that recovery by planting small patches of ponderosa pines in various locations, with the idea that as they mature, those trees would be seed sources for nearby establishment – thus speeding overall woodland recovery?

A few mature ponderosa pines may have survived along the very top of the ridge north of the river.  If so, new pines may be able to spread from these pockets of survivors.

A few mature ponderosa pines may have survived along the very top of the ridge north of the river. If so, new pines may be able to spread from these pockets of survivors.

The answer to that question is related to another big question.  How do we manage these burned woodlands over the next couple of decades – especially in terms of prescribed fire?  At first glance, it might seem that we’ve had enough fire to last quite a while.  On the other hand, prescribed fire might be pretty important to help prevent cedars from coming right back in, and to give us some control over the overall recovery trajectory.  If we do employ prescribed fire, that’s going to impact where pines will be able to survive – including any we plant and those that come back on their own.

Very few pine cones can be found away from the very top of the ridge.  A few isolated exceptions like this might produce a few trees, but future prescribed fires may not allow many of those to mature.

Not many pine cones can be found away from the very top of the ridge. A few isolated exceptions like this might produce a few trees, but future prescribed fires may not allow many of those to mature.

Grassland recovery from the wildfire comes with questions too.  We have choices to make about whether to graze some of those drought and fire-stricken prairies immediately or to rest them for several months or longer first.  In our bison pastures, bison are never removed, so grazing resumed immediately after the fire.  We could build some exclosures to look at how immediate grazing impacts grassland production and species diversity.  In addition, we can manage our cattle pastures in several different ways and measure the results.  What we learn could help us and others make informed decisions after future wildfires.

The last big question we’re struggling with has to do with invasive species, especially in burned woodlands.  I’m not sure yet how to formulate a research question on this topic because we don’t yet know what kinds of invasives we’ll be dealing with.  Some plant species will be much quicker to colonize burned woodlands than others, but whether they will include truly invasive species – and which ones they might be – will be unknown until it happens.  We may just have to be ready to react as quickly as possible when we see what happens, and try to learn from our experience as we attempt to contain any invasions that occur.

We don't yet know what will be growing here in the coming years, but something will - and it will continue to be a beautiful and ecologically important place.

We don’t yet know what will be growing here in the coming years, but something will – and it will continue to be a beautiful and ecologically important place.

There are plenty of questions we could ask about the impacts of this wildfire.  We’re hoping to focus on those that might be the most useful to us and others when dealing with future wildfires.  We have our draft list, but would be happy to hear from anyone with suggestions of other questions we should consider or how we should prioritize among the questions we have.  Thanks for your help and support!

I'm smiling here, but as a prairie ecologist, I'm pretty far out of my element trying to help restore pine woodland.

I’m smiling here, but as a prairie ecologist, I’m pretty far out of my element trying to help restore pine woodland.

If you’re interested in contributing toward the recovery of the Niobrara Valley Preserve, please click here.

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How (Not) to Photograph Prairie Dogs – Part 2 (Why are you laughing??)

Back in March, I wrote about a failed attempt to photograph prairie dogs about 15 miles south of where I live.  Apparently, many of you thought it was hilariously funny and had a nice time chuckling at my expense.

Thanks for that.

Well, I got another chance this summer.  This time, I found myself in the Nebraska sandhills on a beautiful evening with a 4-wheeler, a camera, and a couple hours to kill.  I headed down a two-track dirt road, looking for something to photograph, and came upon a small prairie dog town.  Now, my memory’s not fantastic but traumatic episodes do tend to stick in my head, so I very nearly decided to just keep on moving.  But for some reason – call it stupidity or stubbornness – I stopped the 4-wheeler, unstrapped my tripod, and got my camera out.

As I sat on the 4-wheeler getting everything put together, I watched the nearest prairie dog out of the corner of my eye.  He (I prefer to think of it as a “He” – so sue me) was just sort of loitering around the edge of his hole, maybe 20 yards from where I was parked.  Someone not as experienced with prairie dog photography would probably have assumed that the prairie dog was paying me no attention.  I was under no such illusion.

I knew the prairie dog would be perfectly happy to hang around outside, doing all kinds of cute things, until I moved to the edge of photo range.  Then he’d dive, cackling all the way, into his hole.  I knew that, but I started walking slowly toward him anyway.  I didn’t crouch down like they do on TV or pretend I was a bush. (Why look like a fool for no reason?)  I just walked steadily toward him, figuring that once he disappeared, I’d find a nice comfortable place to sit while he and his friends laughed at me from the safety of their underground bunkers.  Eventually, it would get too dark for photography, I would go home, and they would resume their petty little lives.  It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was a plan.

Sure enough, as I got just about to where I figured my 300mm lens would be worth trying, the prairie dog made a quick feint to the left and dashed back to the right – toward his hole.  But then he pulled up just on the edge of the mound.  Big mistake.  With cat-like quickness, I spread my tripod legs, focused, and snapped a mediocre photo.

Got him!

Ha HA!  I flashed him a big grin to make him think I was really happy with the shot – just to give him something to think about once he got belowground.  I figured he’d stew about that for days.

Knowing what was coming next, I stepped forward again, figuring I might as well get it over with.  He froze and watched me with his beady little eyes, his whole body tense and ready to dive.  Then, just as I reached the point at which I might actually get a decent shot, it happened.  His head went down…

…and came up with a little grass shoot.

…and he started to chew on it.

My head spun.  What was happening?  Hands shaking slightly, I squeezed off three or four quick shots that were… actually… pretty decent.  In a sudden panic, I whipped around – fully expecting to see three or four of the little buggers making off with my 4-wheeler while their hoodlum friend was distracting me.  But no, everything was quiet behind me.  And in front of me, the prairie dog – who was actually kinda cute, once I actually looked at him – was still chewing on his little piece of grass.

Look at those gorgeous eyes…

So I took some more photos of him.  Then I sat down and crawled a little closer.  And took some more photos of him… while he sat up, walked around a little, ate something else, and generally acted completely unconcerned by my presence.

Awww…

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Yeah, yeah, very perky.

Eventually, I started to get bored.  I mean, he was cute and everything, but photographing him just sitting there and enjoying the pleasant evening didn’t really have the “edge” I had prepared myself for.  I stood up and started walking slowly toward him – just to see how close he’d actually let me get.  As if he was reluctantly playing a part his agent had signed him up for, he looked me over, and then slowly ambled toward his hole.  When he got to the edge of the burrow, he gave me one more glance to be sure I was really still walking toward him, and then dropped from sight.  After a moment, he popped his head up one more time to see if I was really going to force the issue, and then sighed and disappeared.

One last look.

One last look.

The light was still pretty nice, and it seemed a shame to waste it so I took a couple half-hearted photos of some flowers – but my heart wasn’t in it.  Everything just felt wrong.  Where was the challenge?  The frustration?  The mocking laughter?  This wasn’t how prairie dog photography was supposed to go!

Just then, over the nearest hill, the barking of a prairie dog woke me out of my lethargy.  I was being challenged!  It was if the little bugger was saying, “Sure, you put one over on my stupid cousin Stan, but you can’t photograph a REAL prairie dog!”

That was more like it…

I crept up to the crest of the hill to find my new adversary.  Once I spotted him, I hunched over and worked slowly down the hill – careful not to make eye contact.  As I got near the edge of photo range, I watched, closely but surreptitiously, for the telltale tensing of his body that would precede his dive down the hole.

It never came.  It turns out, he was just as dumb as Stan.  I kneeled down and took some photos of him, but pretty soon I got tired of it and walked back to my 4-wheeler to head home.  After all, how many photos of stupid prairie dogs does a guy really need?

Doesn’t look that bright, does he?

(By the way, there’s no way I’m telling you where this prairie dog town is.  Mine Mine Mine!  So there.)