Everglades Takes Stock After Fires

REDLANDS | Rick Anderson, the fire management officer for Everglades National Park, stood in the burnt grass where the largest fire in 19 years began here last week and assessed the costs and benefits.

The fire, which was 70 percent under control Thursday, has scorched about 40,000 acres, sent smoke over Miami and forced schools to close temporarily. And yet, it has also poured nutrients into the soil, killed non-native plants and made it harder for hawks to prey on the endangered Cape Sable seaside sparrow.

Park officials said someone sparked the fire accidentally or by arson, but is the impact good or bad?

"Like so much here, it's not just one thing," said Anderson, who starts planned fires in addition to fighting those that are unwanted.

He added, "Fire is our grizzly bear or our wolf: it has to be here." Then he pointed toward a house in the distance. "But it can't be over there."

The Everglades has long faced the challenge of balancing humankind versus nature, and the latest fire is no exception.

From its start in a beer-bottle strewn area on the park's eastern edge, near both homes and the seaside sparrow's habitat, the blaze has exemplified the struggle to revive a fragile ecosystem that abuts one of the nation's most developed areas.

Many environmentalists here have described the fire as an indictment of the federal Everglades restoration plan, which after eight years has failed to seize enough water from nearby communities to rehydrate the so-called river of grass.

"This is exactly the area of the park where we should be having more water this time of year," said Alan Farago, executive director of the Everglades Defense Council. "The park's on fire, Florida Bay is a disaster, and we're still fighting over getting enough water of the right quality."

'BUILT TO BURN'

Anderson warned that more water alone would not have kept the Everglades from burning. With its wispy vegetation, dry season and high winds, "this place is built to burn," he said. Even in an idealized Everglades, "there would still be fires," he said.

But several scientists at the park said the perpetual lack of water has made the fire's impact more severe. Indeed, the blaze burned 100 acres in just its first few hours, before sunrise on May 14. And from there it took off, moving as fast as 8 miles an hour, faster than most people can run.

Park officials initially figured the fire could be managed without affecting nearby neighborhoods because the winds were blowing west, into the park's roughly one million acres. Anderson even considered allowing some extra acres to burn, as he often does with fires caused by lightning.

"The Everglades dies without fire," he said, noting that the ash offers some of the only nutrients available. So his first thought was how to make the blaze serve the ecosystem. His second thought was how to keep the fire from the seaside sparrows' nests.

Then, on the afternoon of May 15, the winds shifted north and east, toward a prison on the park's edge and the outer rings of South Miami-Dade County. Suddenly, the emphasis became people and property.

Miami-Dade firefighters began going door to door to make sure families knew the fire might be coming. Several hundred prisoners were evacuated, and a handful of schools closed temporarily or canceled outside recess because of smoke.

More than 200 firefighters worked up to 16-hour days to fight the blaze. At one point, park officials said they persuaded the South Florida Water Management District and the Army Corps of Engineers to push more water into the park. But it was not enough.

"Even with all the waterthey let in, it didn't do much because the water levels were so low," said David E. Hallac, chief of the biological resources branch. He pointed to a canal nearby that showed dry, crusty earth three feet down.