Fire on the Hill: Burning the Longleaf Pine Forest at the Mobile Botanical Garden

It was an early morning on Tuesday, but well worth it for the electric anticipation of what was going to happen: eight acres of the forest was going up in flames this day. The sun rose over the 35 acres of the treasure forest. The way it lit up the trunks and made the needle glow seemed to foretell what was coming.

Burning the longleaf forest, June 16, 2015

 (Click for more photos of the burn and other scenes of the Longleaf Pine Forest through the spring)

A crowd gathered as time got closer to when the fire crew would light the first part of the fire. Volunteers had their tasks and news crews stood ready with cameras as the fire crew came riding down Pat Ryan Drive. After Andrew said a few words, the first stream of flames were released and a defining line of fire licked away at the duff. The tell-tale smell of a campfire filled the air and smoke billowed into the morning.

Part of the fire crew watched as the fire line moved down the main drive and south through the forest. Other members of the crew went to other parts of the perimeter to set more fires. Volunteers and bystanders moved to get a better view of the expanding fire. People driving down the street slowed down to look at the flames eating away at the brush in the forest. The wind played with the smoke, blowing it this way and that; giving the scene an otherworldly appearance.

As the morning moved on, I took a moment to go closer to the smoking line to see how the Sabal palms bent beneath the touch of the fire. I then spotted a couple of ground bees flying lazily around a small opening in the fire break. Lucky, the brush had been raked away and their home wasn’t in the line of fire. The bees themselves seemed pretty confused as to what was going on as they flew in circles around the opening. Amazing luck.

I was taking a photo of them when the burn master came down from the hill and asked if I’d been to the top of the hill yet. I hadn’t because of my knee, but the tempting view helped me overcome that. 

My slow footsteps were warmed by the smoldering brush as I passed over the fire line and into the center of the burn. Spot fires were growing in front of me and the comforting crackle of fire sage and other brush catching called out from them. A large fire rose higher into the canopy as the flames reached a particularly willing patch of brush. It was a large tongue, licking the lower branches of the longleaf pine full of glistening needles. It soon calmed down and coalesced with the rest of the fire. 

A stand of longleaf pines as old as me stood in a cluster along the road, living remnants of a good seed year, much like the one we’d had this past year. I made my way through the brush towards the trail to join up with the rest of the burn crew and to see my tree cohorts wrapped in the fire. They looked good in their state of transformation, through the smoke and flashes of orange and red. 

"A Pine that Fire Built", the title of a pamphlet  in the office rang true. As I stood there watching, fire creeping along the ground and smoke filling the air, I knew the next year was going to bring new life to the forest. Fire, although seemingly impatient and all-consuming, can teach us a lesson about time and temperance. Change seems to happen in almost an instant, but real change is slow, patient and accumulates over time. This fire is just one of many that will happen, and without this one the next would not be as effective. Time is a continuum and fire is just a part of it.

Eva Colberg's Adventures in Madagascar: Appreciation in Manakara

Here is part two of Eva's updates. Everything below is Eva's own words. I hope you enjoy!

Check out Eva's Instagram for more photos of Madagascar and her other adventures:


If you would like to contact her, feel free to email her here.

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Mada Update #2

Eva Colberg

October 16, 2014

Akory aby! (That's the Antemoro greeting in Manakara, my current location)

Bear with me (or just look at the photos), as this is fairly long.

This is the landscape of southern Madagascar; with spiny thickets and tombs galore.

Most of us agreed that Faux Cap was one of the most challenging experiences; we were divided into pairs to stay in small villages within the same commune, each with a Malagasy student from our partner school as translator. I was extremely lucky to have a good translator, minimal fleabites and no illnesses during my stay, as well as a wise host mother who could sense when we were uncomfortable and then found ways to alleviate it. Fortunately, I enjoy singing and dancing and eating sweet potatoes, because we did a lot of that. Sure, we had time to practice rural appraisal methods and learn about the food security of the area, but over the course of the week I also ate the fruit of the raketa cactus, took bucket showers under the sky behind a wall of sisal (Sisal is a spiky plant commonly found in but not endemic to the landscape of Southern Madagascar. Agave sisalana is commercially grown (more so in the past, but still a bit today) in Madagascar for its tough fibers, which an be used for twine and carpets among other things. - Eva), crowded into a one-room house with 20 other people, planted corn, and spent at least an hour every night dancing with the entire village in the traditional Atandrôy style.

Our Faux Cap host family tressed my hair in their traditional style and we all danced together for the farewell celebration.

After a week that was far too short back in Fort Dauphin, it was time to say goodbye to our host families and move north.

I never realized how privileged we are to have seatbelts, personal space, and paved roads in the States, but despite the absence of those three qualities I am now a master of finding comfort in a camion-brousse. 

We spent the past week camping in front of la StationOcéanographique de Vangaindrano, where we studied coastal ecology and natural resource use within the surrounding community. I thus now have a much better understanding of rice farming, which is widely practiced in this region. Most of the people we talked to were poorer farmers who only own a few fields, and thus can’t let anything fallow for rejuvenation and better future growth.  It seems like a vicious cycle where only those who are already well off can afford the more efficient techniques, but they manage to survive.

On the road after Vangaindrano, we had two forest walks: one at Mahabo, a community-managed multiple-use littoral forest (Missouri Botanical Garden's work in littoral forests -Amanda W.), where I found another orchid in bloom (pictured left); and the other through a low-altitude rainforest populated with palms, mangroves (Conservations efforts -Amanda W.), and epiphytes. Ducking under vines and adventitious roots makes any hike feel more adventurous, especially when you also find chameleons and snakes and bright red millipedes!

I’m currently writing this from Manakara, in my host family’s house. They don’t have Internet or a flushing toilet, and nobody has their own room, but they do have a large house, electricity, and running water, so they’re fairly well off in terms of Malagasy homes.  They’re also incredibly friendly and have emphasized the fact that this is a learning experience from the start; four of them speak French, but they all make an effort to teach me Malagasy and find traditional foods for me to try. This involves a lot of rice flour bread products, fresh fruit juices, and sugary treats.

We've also seen a fair amount of tragedy. My host sister took me to the beach, and right as we arrived a swarm of people was making its way from the water, surrounding the body of a young boy who had just been taken out to sea. They at first thought he was drowned, but he started breathing again. Because no doctors work on weekends, though, he still didn't make it, and ended up dying anyways. It is sometimes difficult to face all the depressing facts about poverty, inadequate governance, and the destruction of nature in Madagascar, but at the same time there is so much joy in all the people; everyone greets each other on the streets, and they are especially delighted when vazaha such as myself and my fellow students respond in not only Malagasy but their own dialect. Even when a Malagasy song is talking about a sad subject, it still unfolds in a cheerful key and tempo. Every day brings new happiness no matter what hardships happen.

Veloma!

Eva

Tiny chameleon!