The Seed Still Grows

THE SEED STILL GROWS A GRAPHIC HISTORY OF AUSTRALIAN BUSHFIRES

WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED BY

AMY MA

THE SEED STILL GROWS Copyright © 2022 by Amy Ma All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: amymama1005@gmail.com Cover & Design by Amy Ma. ISBN: 978-8-9871-2075-0 (print) Printed in the United States.

1st Edition

THE SEED STILL GROWS A GRAPHIC HISTORY OF AUSTRALIAN BUSHFIRES

AMY MA

A wildfire roars.

It begins with lightning, tinder, and a slight gust.

Sudden fissions caused by burning sap send bursts of sparks across the forest. Then, an inferno rises to ridgelines. Like mirages, leaping orange and crimson deafen everything in sight.

Such was the summer of 2019 and 2020 when Australia was hit by the most devastating fire season the country has ever witnessed. Flames erupted onto the landscape six weeks earlier than usual, sparked by tempest and overgrowth.

In a matter of weeks, lives were lost, houses destroyed, and whole forests bled.

Fire season rampaged for far too long. It was a cry for help from the earth.

By area burnt, it was the largest fire season in eastern Australia since European occupation. The total area affected from August 2019 to March 2020 was 42 million acres, larger than the size of England and damaging almost one-fifth of the continent’s forests.

The fires claimed the The firesofclaimed the lives lives 33 people, ofover 33 people, 3,000 3,000over houses, houses, andthan more than 1 and more 1 billion billionnative nativeanimals. animals.

Between November and mid-February – when most fires were under control – the economic losses of the fire amounted to $1.3 billion.

Of all the affected areas, Kangaroo Island was particularly devastated by the 2019-2020 bushfire season. Located off the coast of South Australia, the island hosts an abundance of unique fauna and flora that has earned it the title “Australia’s Galapagos.”

With a human population of only 3000, the island has remained comparatively untouched by human development. As such, it has provided an ecological haven for more than 45 native plants and several animals that are no longer present in mainland Australia.

Yet even this island at the edge of the earth did not escape Black Summer’s fangs. By the early months of 2020, flames engulfed almost half of the island.

These were monster fires that burned too hot and were impossible to contain. The oldest souls within this small island community gravely shook their heads and whispered, ‘never before.’

Silence, grief, and reckoning dominate the immediate aftermath of a bushfire. A profound solitude cloaks the ravaged landscape. Amidst the ashes, Kangaroo Island wept. Many native species, including the critically endangered Kangaroo Island Dunnart, lost significant fractions of their habitats.

The island’s economy crumbled alongside the tourist infrastructure.

When faced with a sea of nothing but ashes, it is hard not to succumb to a feeling of barren hopelessness.

But the seed still grows.

Australia is no stranger to fire.

Fire has exerted selective pressure on Australian vegetation for at least 60 million years.

In the bushland ecosystem, lightning-induced fires are one of several natural reset buttons.

Therefore, Australia’s plants and animals are well adapted to “fire regimes,” or the typical patterns of fires in an ecosystem.

In the event of a fire, the ecosystem is not slow to respond. Instead, almost immediately, nature triggers the cycle of ecological succession — a multi-stage process of change and regeneration.

After a fire, much of the soil’s organic material is burnt, leaving a blackened mass of fine, silty particles. The ash is highly alkaline and slows down plant growth.

Some of the first colonizers on the fire ground are the bacteria, molds, and fungi, which begin neutralizing the highly alkaline ash.

Orange Fungus (Pyronema omphalodes)

Orange fungus can be distinguished by its bright orange, lumpy, crust-like fruit bodies in burned soil and woody debris. It is found during the early stages of succession following bushfires.

This fungus responds to fire by sending out a network of mycelium (fungal threads) through the charred organic material. This helps hold the soil and ash together to prevent the erosion of soil nutrients.

Other ‘fire fungi’ include the disc and cup mushrooms commonly seen fruiting after a fire in large numbers. These fungi hold the soil together, thereby reducing soil erosion and enhancing soil moisture.

Stereum hirsutum

Plicaria recurva

Along with fungi, invertebrate colonizers and recyclers begin expanding their habitats within the soil.

While the losses generated by a fire can be devastating for many species – particularly those already vulnerable – many insects thrive in the post-fire landscape.

A summer of fire leaves a mass of decaying animal carcasses, logs, and tree trunks, which will nourish and protect these populations.

For example, flies often lay their eggs in animal carcasses after a fire. When the maggots hatch, the rotting flesh provides them with an ample food source. This process helps break down the animal’s body, reducing bacteria, disease, and bad smells. In ways like this, insects are critical in converting and transporting nutrients from fire debris back into the soil. The increased numbers of insects also act as a food source for birds, reptiles, and other animals.

Despite the stark imagery of blackened landscapes and contrary to media reports, eucalypt forests are not “destroyed” by bushfires. Far from destroying life, wildfires can actually help to stimulate their rebirth. From millions of years of experience, Australian plants have adapted a range of traits that enable them to endure and even depend on these events.

In fact, plant biodiversity often peaks in the early stages of succession after a wildfire.

An environment needs to be stable over a long term for an ecosystem to become established. But if an area is too stable, diversity can stagnate. When a fire burns through bushland, it clears thick undergrowth and opens up the canopy so sunlight can reach the forest floor, encouraging the germination and regrowth of native vegetation.

With this mended landscape, seeds that may have waited decades underground — including beautiful orchids and quirky liverworts — have the opportunity to sprout and thrive.

Most of the plants in the eucalypt forests of southern Australia have traits that enable them to tolerate infrequent, high-intensity fires and recurrent low- to moderate-intensity fires.

70% of the trees and shrubs in eucalypt forests have dormant buds beneath thick bark on trunks and branches, protected from flames.

After a fire, these “epicormic” shoots sprout quickly and produce leaves, which allow the tree to photosynthesize and convert sunlight into energy.

Trees can also resprout from dormant buds in giant woody underground organs called lignotubers. Layers of soil protect these large seed banks from the heat of fires.

Though the above-ground part of the tree may not survive being burnt, the lignotuber and root system remain alive. Shoots that grow from the base of the plant are called “basal growth.”

All the while, some plants do not store buds and completely succumb to fire. How, then, do these species persist in landscapes where fire is so common?

The secret lies in their ability to produce fire-resistant seeds. The banksia, for example, retains its seeds in woody capsules that only open when stimulated by intense heat. When a fire strikes, these trees release seeds so that they can germinate profusely afterwards.

These adaptations, combined with the trees and shrubs that by chance survived the fire, allow plant communities to respond and regenerate. In a matter of weeks, flowers bloom again, signaling that reconstruction is well underway.

As plants grow back , so does wildfire return.

Most animals can detect the imminence of fires in far less time than humans.

Smoke disrupts the natural behaviors of many wild species.

For example, bees get disorientated in smoke-filled environments, making it difficult to find their way back to their hives.

Smoke can also cause lung damage, particularly in small mammals and birds, who breathe in a high volume of air relative to their body size.

Once an animal becomes aware of an approaching fire, it’s decision time: stay or go?

Animals with mobility, such as kangaroos and wallabies, make haste to dams and creek lines, where the fire is less severe. Sometimes, they even doubled back through a firefront to find safety in areas already burned.

Other animals, such as wombats and many reptiles, remain in place and burrow underground. Burrows buffer animals from the heat of fires, depending on their depth and nearby fuel loads. Smaller animals will happily crash a wombat burrow if it means surviving a fire!

Most bird species can flee fire areas with relative ease. They have wings, after all. Black kites, whistling kites, and brown falcons have even been spotted picking up burning twigs, flying to areas of unburned grass, and dropping them to start new fires there. This exposes their prey attempting to flee the blazes.

The most affected species during a fire are often the animals that are unable to flee quickly. Koalas are slow-moving, so they tend to stay in gum trees during a fire, where they spend most of their time resting and feeding on leaves. As a result, koalas usually die or suffer terrible burns when a fire is intense enough to reach into the crowns of trees where they shelter and feed. On Kangaroo Island, about half of the island’s original koala population perished.

Yet escaping the fire is only half of the story. The immediate postfire landscape is exceptionally harsh for surviving wildlife. Finding shelter is challenging, with food and water also scarce as plants begin the regeneration process. Predators - whether native or invasive - roam around looking for easy pickings. Many animals perish during this difficult period of recovery.

Because of the risks of moving through an exposed landscape, several Australian mammals, such as the short-beaked echidna, have learned to minimize movement following a fire.

Once an echidna finds a safe location for refuge, it induces torpor, a physical condition that allows it to lower its body temperature and metabolic activity. In this state, echidnas significantly reduce the amount of food they need for energy.

After the first few weeks of struggle, conditions begin to look more rosy for the surviving animals. Within the dynamic landscape of succession, many natural food sources such as invertebrates become more exposed and easily available. Wildlife adjust readily to this newfound resource availability.

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But if our trees are so adept at persisting after a fire, why should we be concerned about at their recoveryafter afterathis fires?we be conBut if our trees are so adept persisting fire,season’s why should

cerned about their recovery after this season’s fires?

The answer is that not all fires are equal.

The intensity and frequency of fire significantly impact the post-fire recovery of tree populations. Our trees have adapted to historical fire intensities, ranging from low for rainforests to high for the alpine ash forests.

Yet climate change has corrupted the typical fire regimes that most ecosystems are adapted to.

2019 was the hottest and driest year on record in Australia. National annual rainfall was 40% below average, and maximum temperatures were 2.1°C above the long-run maxima. The forest fire index in December 2019 was the highest on record. Unfortunately, conditions like these will only increase in intensity and frequency as climate change accelerates.

High temperatures, strong winds, and dry forests have combined to create the conditions needed for powerful fires.

There have even been blazes in wetlands that have not contended with this threat.

The sheer unprecedented scale of these fires causes significant issues for ecosystem continuity.

The persistence of many plant and animal species within fire-prone landscapes depends on the presence of vegetation patches that survive unscathed through fire events.

More moderate fire weather leaves more unburnt patches where animals can retreat and forage for food. Thus, small and patchy fires prevent many individual animals from being killed.

However, unburnt patches may make up as little as 1% of the total burnt area under severe fire conditions. High mortality rates can be expected for almost all species when fires are large and intense.

Plants and animals already compromised by low populations and small geographic ranges can slide into extinction during environmental catastrophes like the recent bushfires. Take the glossy black cockatoo or the pygmy possum, which have highly specialized habitats based on dietary needs. When a fire burns through the entire range of their habitat, these animals literally have nowhere else to go.

In addition to intensity, climate change also reduces the frequency between large fire events. Intervals between successive fires are important because trees need sufficient time to recover their regenerative capacity.

In eucalypt forests, fire stimulates the release of canopy-stored seeds and the regeneration of a new cohort of trees. However, if the next fire occurs before trees have become reproductive (<20 years), demographic collapse can occur.

A similar problem applies to epicormic and basal resprouters, which have long juvenile period. High fire frequency can kill juvenile plants, reduce the capacity of established trees to produce seed, and exhaust the capacity of mature trees to recover.

Until recently, scientists were generally confident that most of the trees in our forests would recover from fires, but that confidence is wavering.

How quickly the natural landscape recovers depends on the climate over the coming years. Under average conditions, the succession process might take a couple of decades to complete. Yet if the weather stays hot and dry — and if more extreme wildfires occur in the meantime — the ecosystem might never return to normal.

The megafires of 2019-2020 were unprecedented in their extent and severity. But adding to that were other sources of stress, including disease, pollution, invasive species, clearing and fragmentation of native ecosystems, habitat degradation, and the overexploitation of natural resources.

Of particular concern are the invasive species that plague the bushland landscape.

Lacking predators and competition, these introduced species have wreaked havoc on native fauna and flora for centuries, causing the extinction of hundreds of species.

Unfortunately, the post-fire landscape affords alien species an even greater opportunity to thrive and overtake native communities.

Invasive weeds usually benefit when fire opens the tree canopy and lets in light. Among the worst are the Tasmanian blue gums, a fast-growing eucalypt that could completely change the structure of habitats, making the area unsuitable for a range of native plants and animals.

The damage worsens when considering invasive predators. Feral cats have been observed traveling up to 12.5km from their home ranges towards recently burned savanna ecosystems, drawn by smoke plumes promising new prey.

Due to their adaptability, feral rabbits frequently outcompete native animals for scarce food resources after a fire. They can also prevent the regeneration of plants by chewing through their seedlings.

A 2016 study found that a native rodent was 21 times more likely to die in areas exposed to intense fire than in unburned areas, primarily due to predation by invasive predators. Critically endangered species such as the Kangaroo Island Dunnart have been found frequently in the stomachs of feral cats.

Just on Kangaroo Island, feral cats consume more than 1.5 tonnes of native wildlife daily. Across the continent, that number could be as high as 1500 tonnes.

From 1960 to 2017, invasive species cost Australia at least $390 billion. The ecological cost is even more unimaginable.

In the midst of emergency, the fire response was, understandably, almost solely about human life and property. Unfortunately, there was scant strategic priority in fire control operations to safeguard key populations of threatened species, critical habitats, and fragile ecosystems. Thus, aside from a small number of exceptional cases, biodiversity destruction was unabated by human intervention.

When attention is given to wildlife after a fire, it often focuses on animal rescues and feeding operations. To a certain extent, this spotlight is valuable: touching images of firefighters nursing wallabies make for compelling headlines, and treatment centres have a positive effect in areas where populations are declining. However, it’s unclear how saving a few animals would affect the population as a whole.

Even without fire, Australia has the highest rate of species extinction in the world. This signals a deeper, more systematic problem concerning how humans interact with the natural environment.

The new reality of bushfires in Australia demands a major expansion of preventative and responsive measures. We are experiencing the beginning of the climate change catastrophe, a fate that cannot be handed to future generations.

From zero-carbon policies to prescribed burning to wildlife focussed land management, holistic strategies promising care and investment into Australia’s native fauna and flora are the only ways to prevent further tragedy.

More attention should also be paid to Indigenous fire control methods. Aboriginal people in Australia have spent tens of thousands of years using fire to shape their continent.

To ignore their wisdom would be a tremendous waste.

In Noongar, the Aboriginal language of Southwestern Australia, the word karluk means ‘place of fire’ but also ‘home or heart country.’

For the people who have lived on Australian soil for thousands of years, home is fire. Fire is home. After all, the story of the Australian bush cannot be complete without the cycle of destruction and regrowth.

We created the existential threats that we now face because we considered ourselves as separate from the natural world.

However, I’m a firm believer in resilience and regeneration, in the ability of systems, whether natural or social, to endure hardship and emerge more robust than ever.

There is little joy to be derived from reflecting on the ever-increasing size of fires and the ever-diminishing interval between them. However, it drives home the importance of learning from every experience and doing better next time, for there will be lots of next times.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To Jim Geddes and Dayna Hoadley, thank you for sharing your life on Kangaroo Island with me.

To Dr. Peggy Rismiller and Mike McKelvey, thank you for your endless wisdom and assistance. It was a privilege to learn from you.

To Mr. O’Rourke and the Groton Community Engagement Board, thank you for awarding me a grant to pursue this project when it was just an idea blossoming in my head.

To Ms. Ho and Señor Fernandez, thank you for never letting my creative flame die.

To Dr. Black, thank you for showing me what true passion looks like and inspiring me to strive to do the same.

To every friend who has helped me over the years, some probably without even realizing it, thank you for your kindness.

To Mama, Baba, and Michael, thank you for buying me my first set of crayons as a child and for allowing me to scribble on our walls without care. Special props to Mama for washing my dirty clothes everyday after I rolled around in the grass. You all are my inspiration and my greatest motivation. I am an artist and an explorer who believes in herself because of you.

And finally, to dirt, to worms, to eucalyptus — thank you for everything.

For a full list of references and citations, please visit www.kiregeneration.org

“The greatest threat to our planet is the belief that someone else will save it.”

— Robert Swan

Amy is a seventeen-year-old high school student attending Groton School in Massachusetts, USA. Raised along the coasts of Adelaide, South Australia, she fell in love with the natural world around her at a young age. Her budding interests in environmental science and policy have taken her from being a finalist at national competitions to interning at town governments and conservation NGOs. In her free time, she loves to paint, take long walks, pet her cats, and ponder over the culinary ingenuity of macaroni and cheese. She would also like to say that she is really proud of her (evergrowing) 457-count rubber duck collection.

Fire destroys. Everyone knows that. And this fact seemed ever more pertinent when flames ripped across Australia in the unprecedented bushfire season of 2019 and 2020. Almost one fifth of the continent’s forests were ravaged in what came to be known as the Black Summer.

Yet despite alarmingly intense and frequent fires in recent times, wildfires are also an awe-inspiring natural phenomenon that has shaped Australia’s landscapes for millions of years. The ways that plants and animals have adapted to cope with fire is a fantastical and uplifting exhibition of nature’s resilience.

Simultaneously a story, an educational campaign, and a love letter to the Australia bush, The Seed Still Grows sprung from the fingertips of a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl wanting to share her care and concern for the future of the earth, amidst the flux of flames and ashes.

100% of book proceeds are donated to the Kangaroo Island Regeneration Project.