Catalina shows many signs of life after fire

Not far from Avalon, spanning a vast hilltop overlooking the shimmering Pacific on Santa Catalina Island, is a charred grove of once-flourishing island scrub oaks.

Carlos de la Rosa strolls glumly among their blackened trunks, whose gnarled branches twist awkwardly skyward, as if begging the heavens for mercy.

But the biologist’s spirits rise when he discovers that many of the oaks, which are endemic to the Channel Islands, are still alive.

New growth sprouts from their bases, proof that root systems have survived an inferno that raged across the island’s tinder-dry east end last May, forcing some Avalon residents to flee.

In fact, throughout the 4,800-acre burn area, encouraged by winter rains, is colorful rejuvenation.

Hikers and wildflower enthusiasts, during the next few weeks, will discover California and island poppies splashing the hillsides yellow.

Purple lilies are popping up alongside trails. The Catalina live-forever is indeed still living, and wild green cucumber vines, with blossoming white flowers, are advancing up canyon walls.

“It’s like the rising of the Phoenix,” says De La Rosa, chief conservation and education officer for the Catalina Island Conservancy.

But floral recovery from a man-caused blaze that swept over one-tenth of the island is not guaranteed.

Catalina’s ecology is delicate. Monitoring is required to prevent invasive species from overrunning native and endemic species.

Balancing one versus the other is tricky, and paying perhaps the biggest price in the fire’s aftermath are mule deer.

They’re not native to the island and, as voracious browsers, they threaten long-term recovery.

The population is controlled through a fall sport hunting program, with an average annual harvest of about 230.

Last year, however, the state Department of Fish and Game agreed to increase the number of tags to 500, and hunters killed 402 deer. The conservancy anticipates similar harvests for at least the next two seasons.

This despite a population depleted by drought and hunting from 2,500-plus in 2006, to perhaps 1,500.

“We’re not looking to kill them all, as some might tell you,” De La Rosa assures. “But we need to reduce the population so that we can manage it better.”

Not all islanders agree. Some advocate birth control or relocation, but both methods are deemed impractical.

“Killing is not the answer,” argues Debbie Avellana, owner of Debbie’s Deli. “It’s nasty. It’s horrible. And it’s sad because tourists and locals alike are very fond of these deer.”

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My trip began with an afternoon hike of the unburned Hermit Gulch Trail, which meanders steeply above Avalon.

A day later I’ve met with De La Rosa at Haypress Reservoir, accessible via the Wildlands Express airport shuttle.

Whereas vegetation flanking the Hermit Gulch Trail is impenetrably lush, here is an otherworldly landscape, almost ghostly, watched over by charred, skeletal tree structures.

But close inspection reveals leafy clumps flanking or close to tree trunks. They’ve sprouted from root systems or “seed banks” deep in the soil.

Those seeds were “kick-started” by fire, De La Rosa says, as a natural means of recovery.

Closer inspection, though, reveals damage caused by deer. It’s the same throughout much of a burn area from two fires -- a 1,200-acre blaze, sparked by lightning, occurred in July 2006 -- spanning nearly 13% of the island.

“That’s why we were in emergency mode,” De La Rosa says, “because we had the potential of losing 13% of the habitat, including some really rare plant associations.”

What’s worse, he adds, is that deer favor endemic species because they lack defense mechanisms other plants have developed.

Thankfully, a wet winter hastened grass growth and created a wildflower bloom so vast that even 1,500 deer can’t suppress it.

Alongside our trail are splendid patches of blue dicks, scientifically named Dichelostemma capitatum, with bluish-lavender leaves. They’re among 400 native plants found on the island, De La Rosa says, and “very tasty for the deer.”

Wild radish, with yellow and white flowers, abound. They’re invasive, but not dangerously so like fennel or flax-leaved broom.

Island shooting stars are shooting like mad and Indian paintbrush flowers are dabbing splotches of red as if flung from an actual paintbrush.

The concern, De La Rosa says, is that in summer when grasses die and flowers disappear, deer again will begin selectively foraging on specific plants and new tree growth -- namely, endemics. New trees may require three years to outgrow the browsing threat.

We see no deer, but tracks are numerous and fresh. Hunting has made the animals wary, De La Rosa explains, and hunting was purposely concentrated in the burn area.

Soon, the conservancy will fence five large parcels of critical habitat. One is the 100-acre stand of island scrub oaks fronting the Laura Stein volunteer work camp, facing the mainland.

The grove will survive, De La Rosa says, but it’ll take decades to achieve its pre-fire magnificence -- if there are no more fires.

Because while natural fires may be good for the island’s ecology, there have been only six in the last 100 years, versus 223 non-structural wildfires caused directly or indirectly by man.

None were as ferocious as the last, whose aftermath, De La Rosa recalls, resembled “nuclear devastation.”

Permits are required of anyone hiking on Catalina Island Conservancy property. They are free and can be obtained at the Conservancy House in Avalon and at the airport and Two Harbors Visitor Information Center. For more information on hiking and recreation, visit catalinaconservancy.org.

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