Fire in Algonquin

As noted in an earlier post, wildfires often have a bad reputation.  Ever since the days of Smokey Bear and Bambi, people have been taught to fear forest fires and work to prevent them from, among other things, harming the poor animals of the woods.  While this is a noble intention, it can also be a bit misguided, as fire is part of the natural cycle and can help to regenerate the land.  We do, of course, want to suppress wildfires that threaten communities, even the ones that probably should have been built with more defensible space in mind.  No one in their right mind should say that we ought to have let Boulder, Colorado Springs and other Colorado communities burn down.  For that matter though, sometimes we build too far into nature's path, as in southern California's foothills, and set ourselves up for disaster.  In the realm of the wild, our mismanagement of fire conditions, such as in Yellowstone in the decades leading up to the 1988 fires, can result in calamity beyond what was naturally expected.  So to has Algonquin suffered from misunderstanding this natural resource, at least until recently.

With the coming of the timber interests came a desire to save the forest, either for harvests or conservation, as noted in the history of Algonquin we have explored.   Sadly, the desire to suppress all fires came in tandem with a grand increase of fires due to human carelessness.  Man seemed to be outdoing nature in the realm of fire starting until the 1930's, when aerial surveillance of the park began.   Eyes in the skies were able to call in fires rather quickly, and advancements in fire-fighting techniques have since put most man-made fires in their place.  Still, a careless flick of a cigarette or a forgotten campfire is all that it takes to start burning some underbrush and trunks, which if left unchecked, can transform into a crown fire under dry conditions.  When I was in my early teens, I got to see this happen first hand.

This blurry image was taken back in the 1990's by yours truly, who truly knew little about photography at the time.

A campfire had been smoldering (or simply not put out) by some campers long enough for the carpet of pine and spruce needles to catch on fire and some saplings and even large trunks started burning as well.  While this fire was detected and dealt with before it became more than just a nuisance, it was interesting seeing how even the smallest flame can take advantage of fuel and weather conditions to build into something a bit more problematic.  For that matter, it was also interesting seeing how the area was cleared of such fuels and the underbrush.  Those two spruces there did survive, and I intend to see how far they have come along since then, being relatively more exposed to the sunlight.

This is what many small scale natural fires in Algonquin would most likely be like.  Lightning would cause most of them, and the rains in such storms would often keep the damage in check.  Nevertheless, "dry" storms are not rare in the area, and Algonquin's combination of flammable pines and well-drained soils mean that somewhat arid conditions are never out of the question in all but the wettest years.  The higher western side of Algonquin would be less prone to these small-scale fires, owing to the 45+ inches of precipitation common to the region, as well as the less flammable mixed forests present there.  The eastern side, however, is a world unto itself, the lands there being largely coniferous forests growing on sandy soils with most years seeing as little as 25 inches of precipitation, conditions which are similar to the eastern High Plains, albeit with far less high temperature extremes.

The western area could expect to see a really good fire every 500 years or so, canopy opening events which were responsible for creating the pre-settlement conditions of towering White Pines sticking above the maples.  The pines would emerge from the charred, sun-baked soils before the maple seedlings, and the supercanopy would in turn attract lightning for future fires.  Smaller scale fires would reproduce the pine growing conditions on a smaller scale, offering clearings which could support a pine or two.  Other than wind events, this would be how the pines would make their way into existence without being smothered by maples.

The eastern area could expect a really good fire every 250-500 years or so, events that would actually be required to regenerate the Jack Pines.  Owing to the soil conditions and less precipitation, maples and other deciduous trees (minus possibly some oaks) would be left behind as the pines and some spruces would pretty much dominate the scene again.  Smaller scale fires would burn away ground growth, sometimes producing pine barrens/savannas, sometimes clearing the ground of fuel build up, actually preventing larger fires.

The last great natural wildfire which burned through everything from crown to ground cover that took out a good portion of Algonquin was apparently in 1780.  Growth scars on old growth pines (the supercanopy could have survived even a devastating crown fire) indicate that a broad area centered on the lower Petawawa Valley burned, leaving behind a smoke plume that winds carried over Quebec and New England, enough so that the sky was apparently as dark as night during the day.  This is called the Dark Day of New England and is responsible for a great amount of religious development and population migration.  People of the time imagine the dark skies as a sign of the end times approaching, which kindled growth in new American forms of Christianity, a post for another time.

How close is Algonquin to the next "big one"?  We can't be certain, especially since we still tend to put out large fires except in specially designated areas where burns are allowed to run their course.  Algonquin could benefit from a large fire, and the land is certainly able to host such an event.  That said, while the ultimate results of such a fire would be beneficial to the area, fire is still largely an accidental thing that occurs naturally under very specific conditions, to say nothing of the psychological impact it has on those who live, work, and play in the forest.  Like all natural forces, it is best respected, handled with care, and understood as a complex, rather than simple, agent.