Notes from the Field

Our staff and Board members often reflect on the changes in the world around us, the places that are special to us, and why conservation matters. August's post is a thoughtful reflection on the resilience of nature and our ties with land from NCRLT Board Member Jerry Armour.

I have owned a five-acre parcel of land within the town limits of Paradise for 32 years.  We built a home on this property in 1990.  While I spent my career in the almond industry working out of Chico for the past four decades, Paradise was always home.  The five acres was a sanctuary of sorts, a place to wind down after a day of work, a place to enjoy a meal on the deck surrounded by forest, a place to savor a light winter snowfall, a place to share with family and the wildlife on the Ridge: deer, foxes, raccoons, ravens, nuthatches and even the occasional bear or transient mountain lion. 

As with much of Paradise, the property is predominately Ponderosa pine and black oak forest.  The upper portion of Dry Creek flows in a deep channel along the western edge of the lot, providing a corridor of riparian habitat.  Even in drought years, such as we are experiencing now, the creek flows throughout the year at our elevation of 2,100 feet.

From the beginning of my tenure on this land, I have worked to restore a more native and natural habitat to the forest.  The early years at this project included countless days of pruning down and removing invasive Himalayan blackberry.  The berry vines covered most of the low-lying flood plain of the creek basin and arched up into the lower limbs of the Ponderosa pines.  Eliminating this fire ladder of fuels was a high priority.  As the forest opened, we began planting seedling pine, Douglas fir and incense cedar.  The physical work was therapeutic and satisfying. I organized planting days with my son and his friends.  We christened a group of Douglas fir trees the “Children’s Grove” and erected a sign with the names of all the kids that helped to plant trees.  Most of this reforestation took place in the early 1990’s and a few of the kids involved with the planting have come back to visit and show their own children the trees that they helped to plant long ago.

Fast forward to the Camp Fire of 2018.  When we were allowed to return to Paradise and inspect our property we found the ashes of our cedar-sided house and dozens of scorched trees proximate to the homesite.  Even though fire had burned on every square inch of the five acres, the riparian area near the creek had fared well.  Many of the trees survived that we planted decades before, some did not.

Today, we have rebuilt on an adjacent lot overlooking the original five-acre parcel.  I am back to the task of stewarding the land, this time in post-fire recovery.  Despite the losses and trauma of the fire that swept through Paradise, I feel blessed to witness the resilience of nature.  New seedlings are growing.  Oak and maple trees have stump sprouted, building back a canopy nourished by their intact root systems.  A few native plants that were not present before the fire have found a foothold on the property.

Each summer we are reminded of the constant threat and certainty of fire in our North State forests.  All of us are impacted by smoke issues during the fire season. No matter where we live, rural communities, the wildland urban interface or the towns and cities of California we share the impacts of wildfire in the air we breathe.  As distressing as these fires are, I know there is another chapter to be written, I see this future beginning to unfold here in Paradise.  Nature is resilient.  We may not know the details of what recovery will look like, but adaptation to change has always been part of our natural world.