Hope After Rangeland Fire
Note from the IWJV Coordinator, Dave Smith: The turning of the page into a new year brings an array of human emotions – reflection, gratitude, anticipation, a resolve to improve, and, most of all, hope. In 2021, coming off perhaps the most difficult year in a century, hope exists at so many levels. There is hope at the global level as the first COVID-19 vaccinations have been delivered and we can finally see light at the end of the pandemic tunnel. There is hope in our conservation community as we look ahead to the times when we can meet in the field and shake hands across fence lines, both real and figurative.
And there is the kind of hope that IWJV Management Board Member, Kim Brackett, eloquently communicates in this article about her experience as a public lands rancher in the Great Basin: a fragile hope for the grass to grow and rangelands to recover after devastating rangeland fires all across the West. Her experiences of anger and loss that catalyzed collaboration are a reminder of the good that can come from hardship. The IWJV wishes you the very best in 2021 and that you enter the New Year with an abundance of hope for the future!
Murphy Complex Fire. Photo courtesy of Kim Brackett.
Hope After Rangeland Fire
By Kim Brackett, Idaho Rancher
The acrid smell of smoke clung to him; his new flat-brimmed palm leaf hat was covered in brick-red fire retardant. That’s what I noticed first when my husband walked through the door at one o’clock in the morning. He took a quick shower, put on clean clothes and was walking out the door again when I handed him a thermos of coffee, a jug of water, and a cooler of food. Before he got back into his pickup, I grabbed his arms and forced him to look at me. We were both scared—more scared than we had ever been in our entire marriage. I needed to know what he had seen, what we were up against. Had he been able to cut fences and let cattle run from the fire? How many head had we lost? How many acres had burned? I also wanted to remind him, to anchor him in the fact, that the kids and I were safe. Even in the midst of the hell he was driving back into, we took a moment to be thankful that our family and house were spared. As I looked into his face I saw anguish, fear, and sorrow in his eyes.
At that time, my husband and I had three children under the age of six. I stayed home with them and my husband spent his days and nights fighting the fire alongside his father and brothers, our employees and our neighbors as well as the federal, state, and volunteer firefighters from around the country. Just two days earlier, we’d evacuated our house and ranch headquarters. Although we were back in our home at that point, sleep didn’t come easily as I kept an eye on the fire and listened for my husband’s voice on the two-way radios we used on the ranch.
Recalling it now, thirteen years later, I still shiver at the immensity of the unknown we were facing at that time. We didn’t yet know how many cattle we would lose or how much grass would be lost to the flames. We had no idea if there would be enough of the ranch left for us to rebuild. It was nearly impossible to see it then but there would be hope after this fire. There would be healing, for us and the land. For all those struggling with this past year’s devastating fires in California, Colorado, Oregon, and Washington, please hold tight to your loved ones and know there are others that feel your pain, anger and fear. I want to tell you the grass will grow again.
Murphy Complex Fire. Photo courtesy of the Bureau of Land Management.
Murphy Complex Fire. Photo courtesy of the Bureau of Land Management.
July 17, 2007 may not be a date that rings a bell of recognition for many people, but in our family it was the beginning of the largest range fire in the history of our ranch in south-central Idaho. Mid-summer lightning storms roll through southern Idaho on a regular basis. We are no strangers to fighting fire and while that first wisp of smoke certainly has us hustling to see where it is and how big it is, it doesn’t typically incite panic or fear in our hearts. The Murphy Complex Fire started out in a similar fashion. A handful of small fires started by lightning that had our ranching community scrambling to contain. As those fires quickly grew in size and merged into one another, thus creating a fire complex, we realized that it was going to be a much larger fire than the ones we had fought in recent years.
Murphy Complex Fire. Photo courtesy of the Bureau of Land Management.
Over the course of the next few days, we found cattle, sheep, antelope, and deer piled in fence corners, all burned to death. They had run as far as they could, but the stout fences, the ones that we had taken pride in building, held them in. They could not escape the flames. We found small groups of cattle stranded on shale outcroppings. They had escaped the fire, but now had no feed, no water and they were trapped. The burned ground all around them was too hot for them to walk across. We hauled in hay and water as we waited for the ground to cool enough for horses and cattle to traverse. Other cattle kept going and weren’t caught in the flames, but their hooves and legs were so badly burned that we had to euthanize them. It was the only humane thing to do. As I write this so many years later, tears spring to my eyes remembering putting down cows that we had cared for over the years, cattle that were a result of the years spent building our ideal cow herd. Ours was a herd based on strong genetics, with cows that knew how to thrive in our environment and how to bring in a solid, healthy calf each year.
There were other cattle that ran through flames and eventually crossed backfires to reach safety. Those cows had minor burns that we were able to treat, but would leave scars marking them as survivors. We kept those cows and several years later, when we finally sold the last cow with burn scars, my husband and I both looked at her, grateful we were able to save her and that she could remain in our herd for several more years. At the same time, we were each remembering the ones we couldn’t save and once again the fear and the anger rose up in our hearts.
Yes, anger. We were angry to have seen such widespread devastation across our ranch and the neighboring ranches. Scorched earth covered endless miles in our remote part of the state. The Murphy Complex Fire burned over 652,000 acres in southern Idaho and northern Nevada. It remains the largest fire Idaho has seen since 1910. To put that in context, until the August Complex Fire in California in 2020, the Murphy Complex Fire burned more acres than any California wildfire on record. Fortunately, there were no human lives lost in the Murphy Complex Fire. However, there were countless wildlife and livestock deaths.
Fires fundamentally need three things to burn: heat, fuel, and oxygen. The one element we can control is fuel. One of the contributing factors to the enormity of the Murphy Fire was the fuel load throughout this high desert region. The vast majority of this country is federally owned and is managed by the Bureau of Land Management or the U.S. Forest Service. Over time, changes were made to federal grazing allotments, generally resulting in fewer cattle being allowed on them and for shorter durations throughout the year. From my family’s perspective, it didn’t seem like there was much room for discussion or science demonstrating the benefits that cattle can provide to rangeland ecosystems, particularly the reduction of fuel loads. On our federal allotments, lots of dead grass was left standing after the growing season, year after year, reaching over three feet high in some places. Once the fire reached those severely under-grazed areas, it took on a ferocity never before seen by the old-timers in this region.
Fire is complex, as is the history of land management in the West. Too often the story is either utilization and economy versus environment and protection. More recent discussions include resilience, science to inform management, legacies of fire management, and a recognition that regardless of how fire impacts ecosystems, wildlife, and people. There are no “silver bullets.”
This article in our New Year’s eNewsletter is deeply personal, vulnerable, and reflects a particular approach or perspective. As a partnership that values diverse perspectives and experiences, we would like to hear from you in the spirit of learning, testing, and sharing new approaches and building hope. Please contact us at IWJV@iwjv.org to share your thoughts.
To be clear, fire is a natural part of a healthy ecosystem. Historically, southern Idaho would have experienced small fires nearly every year. Fire brings new life. It is a renewal. It is necessary. However, it does not need to be catastrophic. Proper grazing helps keep those fuel loads in check, while at the same time maintaining habitat for the wildlife we all want to see on healthy rangelands.
It is no surprise that emotions ran high while this fire was raging, for livestock producers and agency personnel. At times, it felt as though we were at cross-purposes. Everyone wanted the fire out as quickly as possible and it was hard to see other’s priorities through the smoke and worry of burned livestock. Don’t misunderstand me, I know that firefighters put their lives on the line and I am grateful for the work they do. Over the years, through many fires, my husband and I have met some amazing men and women working hard to contain fires. Trust me, during a fire there are few more welcome sights than a truck bringing in a government bulldozer or planes from all different agencies dumping load after load of fire retardant. But it was still hard.
Ranchers, sportsmen, recreationists, outdoor enthusiasts, and public land managers alike all suffered a tremendous loss during the Murphy Complex Fire. People who may not have previously understood how their interests were impacted by grazing on federal lands now saw hunting and recreation areas decimated. Organizations that focus primarily on protecting the environment and wildlife species were heartbroken at the photographs of wildlife lost in the fire. Yet, that loss may have been the catalyst to sit down and work together toward solutions that would hopefully help avoid catastrophic fire in the future.
The new day of collaborative sagebrush conservation in southern Idaho is reflected by the establishment of the Idaho Rangeland Conservation Partnership, which was supported by the IWJV through our Partnering to Conserve Sagebrush Rangelands effort. Brenda Richards, IRCP Coordinator, has played a key role in bringing together partners with diverse perspectives to find common ground for collaborative rangeland conservation. Photo courtesy of Brenda Richards.
In the years since the Murphy Complex Fire, we have seen a gradual shift in how agencies approach grazing and rangeland science. There is more open communication between livestock producers and agencies on approaches to fighting and preventing range fires. There’s also a willingness to discuss the science that demonstrates the ecological benefits of cattle and a broader understanding of the interconnectedness of rangeland habitat. A desire to bring all parties to the table to discuss solutions to protect this high desert country that we all love. The creation of the Idaho Rangeland Conservation Partnership was, in small part, a result of range fires across Idaho. It is an organization focused on bringing together all stakeholders to conserve and enhance the social, ecological, and economic values that rangelands provide.
One of the most positive outcomes of catastrophic range fires has been the development of Rangeland Fire Protection Associations (RFPAs). RFPAs are volunteer fire associations composed of ranchers in remote areas that are far from city fire departments. The ranchers undergo fire training from the Bureau of Land Management and the agency helps the volunteers acquire basic fire protection gear and heavy equipment. RFPAs are authorized by the state to fight fires and they are usually the first to arrive at a range fire. The training and equipment allow them to work for quick containment while also providing incoming firefighters with on-site information regarding the fire.
The Murphy Fire left our ranch, and our hearts, bruised, fragile, and uncertain of the future, but when the first green shoots of spring pushed their way through blackened soil, we began to heal. Our faith in the land, in nature, and the circle of life was slowly restored. In time, the land once again provided tall stands of crested wheat, as well as the native grasses, sagebrush, and rabbitbrush that support myriad wildlife and livestock. Now, when we ride across this country we see herds of antelope and deer, we spy the tracks of rabbits and badgers, and on good days, we feel the thunderous flush of sage grouse or a covey of chukars. Equally important, we see cattle doing their job, grazing across the high desert to improve the health of these rangelands.
Restoration efforts after the Murphy Complex Fire. Photos courtesy of the Bureau of Land Management.
Restoration efforts after the Murphy Complex Fire. Photos courtesy of the Bureau of Land Management.
Restoration efforts after the Murphy Complex Fire. Photos courtesy of the Bureau of Land Management.
Kim Brackett co-owns and operates Brackett Ranches Limited Partnership with her husband, Ira. Brackett Ranches is a cow/calf and stocker operation based in southern Idaho and eastern Oregon. Kim has extensive experience in the cattle industry, most recently serving as Chair of the Cattle Industry’s 2025 Long Range Plan Task Force, which creates the strategic plan for both the National Cattlemen’s Beef Association and the Cattlemen’s Beef Board. She also currently chairs the National Beef Quality Assurance Advisory Board that continually reviews research on animal welfare, antibiotic use, land use, and sustainable water management systems to bolster best management practices for the cattle industry. Kim serves on the Idaho Cattle Association’s Board of Directors and is active in her local cattle associations. She is a member of the Idaho Rangeland Conservation Partnership, along with the U.S. Roundtable for Sustainable Beef.