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I first got a personal glimpse of climate change in 1994. I was a reporter in Colorado at the time. When I wasn’t covering local issues (mostly land use, LOL), I did as many science stories as I could.
So, spent a lot of time with the Forest Service. https://www.washingtonpost.com/weather/2020/10/15/cameron-peak-fire-colorado/
So, spent a lot of time with the Forest Service. https://www.washingtonpost.com/weather/2020/10/15/cameron-peak-fire-colorado/
One day in spring, still snow on the ground, an elderly forest ranger who was an expert in conifers called me up and invited me to go for a hike. We met at a trail and walked maybe half a kilometer into some trees, when he pulled out a knife and cut into a doug spruce.
He made an incision about ~ 2 inches deep & ~ 8 inches across, peeled back the bark, & stuck in his fingers. When he pulled them out, they were covered in squirming larvae.
“The Western balsam fir bark beetle,” he said. “At this time of year these larvae should be dead.”
“The Western balsam fir bark beetle,” he said. “At this time of year these larvae should be dead.”
But they weren’t dead, nor were larvae in other spruce the forest service had put in a transect for study.
“For the past 100,000 years or so, it generally froze hard enough in winter to kill most larvae. But the last few decades have been warming, so, the larvae survive.”
“For the past 100,000 years or so, it generally froze hard enough in winter to kill most larvae. But the last few decades have been warming, so, the larvae survive.”
I asked him what that meant.
“Well, the larvae girdle their host tree, kill it, then if they survive the winter, they fly to the next tree and repeat the process.”
He pointed to tree crowns, noted several were turning red.
“Red means dead.”
I asked him what would happen.
“Well, the larvae girdle their host tree, kill it, then if they survive the winter, they fly to the next tree and repeat the process.”
He pointed to tree crowns, noted several were turning red.
“Red means dead.”
I asked him what would happen.
“Assuming we do nothing to reverse the warming, the Rockies will lose all of its conifers sometime over the next century. They’ll be killed by beetles, and the ones that aren’t killed will be weakened enough to fall prey to other parasites.
“But they’ll all burn.”
“But they’ll all burn.”
I asked him what would replace them.
“I don’t know, I’ll be long dead by then. Probably aspen ad scrub, maybe some juniper. Hopefully you younger folks will do something about it.”
That was 1994. Now if you travel through the Rockies, entire conifer forests are bright red.
“I don’t know, I’ll be long dead by then. Probably aspen ad scrub, maybe some juniper. Hopefully you younger folks will do something about it.”
That was 1994. Now if you travel through the Rockies, entire conifer forests are bright red.
To walk through a conifer forest in much of Colorado, or Wyoming, or Utah, or Montana is to attend the world’s largest wake.
And just as that forester told me, those trees are burning like never before. We’re already on track to lose them all.
And just as that forester told me, those trees are burning like never before. We’re already on track to lose them all.
Sometimes the sadness of climate change overwhelms me, watching the world burn as we expand our freeways and max out the carbon credit card with our SUVs.
I’m sorry, Colorado, we didn’t stop this.
Hopefully the younger folks will do something about it.
I’m sorry, Colorado, we didn’t stop this.
Hopefully the younger folks will do something about it.
