Fire Danger on the Front Range -- A Different Perspective

 It has been a dry water year on the Front Range. For the six months since October 2025, precipitation has been only 45.5% of normal in Boulder County, according to CSU’s Colorado Climate Center. Firefighters are on high alert. Chainsaws reverberate through local stands of trees. The electrical utility warms that it may cut off power to whole neighborhoods during windy times. 

And yet, I am strangely sanguine about avoiding big fires. While most foresters and municipal or regional entities are carrying out widespread thinning and cutting of trees, I am saying, “Wait a minute, let’s think this through.” Before we raze stands of old growth trees and healthy forests, let’s consider whether we are throwing the baby out with the bathwater. 

Bulldozing firebreaks and toppling the canopy doesn’t really mitigate the risk of fire in many cases. Oftentimes, the culled trees are left in stacks, a fire hazard just waiting to ignite. Chainsaws and other power equipment can cause sparks, creating needless fires. Opening up the tree canopy invites more sunlight in so weeds and brush spring up from the dry forest soil. This allows fires to travel from tree to tree, multiplying the damage. No, disturbing the forest is not the answer. Smoky should have said, “Only you can create forest fires.” 

But what about preventing fires in the intersection between forests, mountains and the built landscape of exurban and suburban homes and communities? That is a different subject altogether. Fires like the disastrous Marshall Fire of December 30, 2021, on the Front Range south of Boulder, Colorado, are a totally different subject. Marshall was a grassland fire; no forests burned in that fire. What caused it, then?

In the spring of the water year of 2021, the Boulder water monitor recorded 13.23 inches of precipitation (1.28+2.99+3.20+5.76) from February through May, 2 inches more than normal. The abundant precipitation prompted grasses to grow lush and thick along the Front Range. This continued through early summer—July was unusually wet with precipitation 175% of normal. Starting in August, though, rain was scarce. November brought only .7 inches of rain, not enough to even wet the soil. Most of it evaporated before it reached the ground. 

By December, the prairie was tinder dry. High winds dried out the landscape even more and exacerbated the risk. The fire started in grasslands that had been cleared for grazing and for creating the town of Superior, which lay in the eroding foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Developers of the town had planted large swaths of non-native grasses such as Brohm and Crested Wheat, plants that grow fast and spread quickly. They also ignite quickly, fanned by wind gusts up to 116 mph. The fire spread like lightning, engulfing more than 1,000 homes and other buildings in less than an hour. Fortunately, only two lives were lost but an estimated 1,000 pets and livestock perished. Untold numbers of wildlife such as the Abert's Squirrel, pictured below, lost their lives or homes. 

How can we minimize the threat of grassland fires? Current techniques are inadequate to quell these volatile and fast-moving conflagrations. A long term approach is needed. Large scale planting of non-native grasses must be discontinued. Enough of monocultures; we need a diversity of plants and landscapes. 

After rainy or snowy months, grasses that are growing too fast need to be contained. This was beautifully carried out by Nature’s best environmental steward: the buffalo. Large herds swept over the prairies, “mowing” the grass, roughing up the soil with their hooves and “fertilizing” the ground with manure spiked with all sorts of native seeds. Sadly, we can’t do this any longer in the places where humans have moved in so we’ll have to find a way to emulate the buffalo’s stewardship. 

Another way of controlling fast growing grasslands was practiced by the first human inhabitants of the region for thousands of years. Controlled burns were a way to quickly return minerals and carbon to the soil. Modern day inhabitants are starting to use these techniques but with mixed success. 

We are just now learning what the Native Americans have known for centuries. Work with Nature’s forces, not against them. Don’t even try to control them. That’s why I’m not worried about the lack of rain and snow this winter. It means the prairie is for the most part dormant.  Cover will be later and more sparse. We may not be able to avoid setting off fires, but they will not spread as easily as during 2021. With the time that Nature has given us, let’s learn how to do better.