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| Manzanita, photo by Rob Moore |
Squawk, squawk, squawk!! Those familiar cries made me crane
my head upwards to get a glimpse of the green-bodied parrots. I was not
disappointed. There they were, flying together over a large Sycamore tree. My
friends, the wild parrots of Malibu, had survived the wildfires. Indeed, they
seemed to be flourishing!
November’s wildfires and February’s floods had kept me away
from my favorite Malibu campground for almost a year. Finally, in June, 2019 the Leo Carrillo State
Park campground reopened. So, I took a trip up Pacific Coast Hwy to see how the
place had fared, and to see if my friends, the wild parrots, were okay. Leo
Carrillo State Park is in the northernmost part of Los Angeles County,
bordering Ventura County where the Woolsey fire had moved across the hills, and
burned all the way down to the beach in some spots.
Considering how intense the wildfires had been, I really didn’t
see as much destruction to the campgrounds as I had expected. The tall, non-native yellow rye grasses that
usually cover the hillsides were burnt out. Without rye grass interference, native
bunch grasses were growing in their place. Yellow blossoms of Spanish mustard
were waving in the breeze, softening the hills. And Spring rains had helped
wildflowers bloom: monkeyflowers, yellow daisies, poppies and lupines.
Fire is a two-edged sword: Native chaparral plants
and animals are adapted to survive fires when fires occur naturally. The problem comes when humans appear on the
scene. Our mismanagement and haphazard fire prevention methods have taken a
toll on these wild places. I was happy
to see that despite the human-caused wildfires, this place was thriving.
It took many man-hours to turn the park around. Crews were
still working when I visited, cutting dead branches away with chainsaws, and
tilling soil in trails. The visitor’s center had to be rebuilt. Restoring water
to the campgrounds had posed some difficulties, and was still a work in
progress.
The fire took out many of the mature Live Oak trees, though some
of them will regrow from still-living roots. The California Sycamore trees (Platanus
racemose) with their palm-like leaves were thankfully passed
over. This is good news for the Nanday or Black-headed parakeets that make
nests in Sycamore’s hollows.
Sumac was another wildfire survivor. Everywhere I looked
black branches were sticking up from a base of new green leaves. The Sumacs
were re-growing from something called a burl. The burl acts as a
survival mechanism, storing water and energy. When the branches are burned, the
burl gets the message to get busy, sending new growth up through the ashes. Many chaparral plants have burls like the
Sumac.
The fire cycle is an endless loop of burning and recovery.
It only takes a couple months for new growth to surface, then the plants will
mature and eventually feed the next fire. Plants, insects and animals of the
chaparral absolutely depend on regular fires. After a fire, birds of prey can
now find lizards, snakes and rodents in the newly open ground, and deer have
new vegetation to forage. One of my favorite stories of fire-dependence is
that of the Fire Beetle. This beetle will only lay eggs on a recently-singed
branch! They gather in groups, sensing fire even miles away. Without wildfires,
there is no mating.
There are some native shrubs that need fire in order to
release or trigger seeds; these plants are called pyrophytes. One
example is Manzanita (Arctostaphylos
glandulosa). The seeds of this shrub will lie on the ground and will
not sprout until they feel the extreme heat of fire, even if they have to wait
100 years!
In
addition, many wildflower seeds require fire to germinate. In the spring
following a fire, native chaparral wildflowers appear in amazing
displays. Of these, only a few can be found at any other time. This
means much of the native chaparral’s most beautiful blooms are seen only
rarely. Their seeds can lie dormant for 100 years, unseen by us.
(This means there are still a lot of wildflowers this writer has never
seen.)
Squawk, squawk, squawk! I think my friends, the wild
parrots, were a bit annoyed with the large number of visitors to the
campground. They had gotten very used to having the place to themselves while
the park was closed. As the park was recovering, I felt as though Nature had given
my soul renewal, as well, and I was now ready to return to the city feeling
more balanced.
