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Catalina shows many signs of life after fire
Conservationists are heartened as scrub oaks sprout growth and lilies and other flowers pop up. Of concern is how to deal with the mule deer population in the altered landscape.
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."
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.
Carlos de la Rosa strolls glumly among their blackened trunks, whose gnarled branches twist awkwardly skyward, as if begging the heavens for mercy.
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."
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.
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