By Abigail Shaha

In some parts, the land looks as if nothing ever happened.

A mosaic pattern of needle-and-thread grass, white sage and knee-high Indian rice grass stretches from fence to fence, begging to be grazed. It looks untouched, like before last year's Milford Flat Fire.

But other parts look like a beach. The poached, colorless earth lies barren against the azure sky. Roots and stumps of sage brush gape from the dirt, still charred black and now exposed by vicious winds. Once it had been covered by grazing grasses, especially cheat grass. Now it looks as if nothing will ever grow there again.

Harvey Gates, head of the Bureau of Land Management restoration efforts in the area, sunk slightly as he walked into this area of vast emptiness left almost a year after the Milford Flat Fire.

Gates grew up on a ranch in Escalante, Utah. Like many ranchers, Gates and his family fought the federal Bureau of Land Management for every acre of land they had. It was a small town and a personal struggle that even got physical a few times. But it all came to nothing. By the time Gates was grown, there wasn't enough land and cattle for him to take over.

Instead, Gates went to Utah State University and got degrees in botany and range management. To the surprise of many, including himself, he took a job working for the BLM in Fillmore and settled his wife and three sons down in nearby Holden.

Gates found out the dark side wasn't so bad, though some people were quick to tell him they were disappointed in his decision. But Gates was undeterred; he just wanted to work with the land he loved and knew. He'd been on it for just as long as the ranchers and farmers that dealt with the BLM, and he understood their predicament better than most of his colleagues.

Now, a year after the Milford Flat Fire and two months after the last seedlings were planted, Gates drives the dirt roads around the restoration areas once or twice a week to check the progress of the restoration seedlings. Many are critical of what they see, but Gates remains hopeful.

"This area we didn't get to planning until last spring because we couldn't get funding," he said as he panned the barren area. "So nothings hardly had the chance to grow."

"But here's one!" he said as he bent down and straightened a single inch high blade of grass pushing up from a crease in the dirt. "And there's another," he said, pointing a foot away to another straggler.

"They're doing the best they can. People just need to give them time," he said. "Poor little things."

When the embers were finally smothered last July, the Milford Flat Fire had burnt 363,046 acres. The minute the fire fighters removed the road barriers, Gates had ATVs out mapping the burned areas and marking them for restoration methods. Of the impacted area, 160,467 acres were chosen for reseeding, and Gates wanted to start it as soon as possible.

He was ready almost immediately thanks to some leftover seed from the reseeding efforts for 21 fires in 2006. But first the areas had to be inspected for possible archeological sites and funding had to be approved in Washington, D.C., and trickle down the lines to Fillmore for equipment and manpower.

"You can't imagine all the things we had to fight through to get this done," he said.

Finally in October 2007, Gates had the money and clearance he needed to start his mission.

Choosing the seeds

The plan called for 1,518,872 pounds of seed. Each area would have a custom mix based on the wildlife population, elevation and precipitation levels. Gates picked a seed mixture that combined foreign and native plants, much to the chagrin of several environmentalists and opinionated locals who wanted to keep strictly native plants. But Gates had studied the failed native-only restoration in Nevada, and felt strongly non-natives had to be included.

"People kind of shunned me in certain circles, but I always plant what I know will work," said Gates as he gazed over the acres of successful reseeding. A cross-stitch of yellow-green, varied looking plants covered the hilled area. "[We] are not like that miner that found gold - we didn't happen upon this," he said. "We've been here for 80 years. We know what grows."

The federal government also had several strong opinions about how Gates should plan and manage the restoration. But Gates understood the land differently than they did. To them, it was a charred spot on a map; to Gates, it was almost human.

"Those people in Washington try to make decisions out of a cookbook," Gates said. "But we don't believe in Betty Crocker out here."

Reseeding

After all the seeds had been dropped, most of them by plane, the process of incorporating them into the soil began. Using ATVs and GPSs, Gates and his team designated each area for chaining, drilling or imprinting.

Chaining was the most common method used, especially in areas with steep or rough terrain. In chaining, two caterpillars survey the landscape with a 250-foot chain dragging between them. The chain's links rotate as the cats drag them, turning up the soil and incorporating in the seed. At the height of the effort, Gates had 12 chains going at once, each covering more than 200 acres a day.

Areas with a more mild topography were drill seeded by dragging triple drills behind farm tractors. The result looks like dozens of plowed rows, and according to Gates is generally more effective than chaining. Forty-five drills worked at once to reseed 32,831 acres.

But the most effective method for ensuring seeds were embedded in the soil was imprinting. The process only works in wide, flat areas where there are no sharp rocks or steep climbs the rubber tire tractors can't handle. The tractor pulls a drum covered in V-shaped plates that indent into the soil as the drum rolls, pushing the seeds deep into the ground.

The reseeding started in October 2007 and finally finished in May this year. Then the race began: The seedlings were racing to beat the cheat grass out of the soil, and Gates was racing against report deadlines in Washington to estimate success rates and percentage of cover. If the seedlings lost, Gates said, the area would be unseedable for centuries. If Gates lost, getting more funding for rehabilitation efforts this year could be nearly impossible.

But Gates isn't in it for the numbers or the acreage. He's in for the seedlings, the citizens and the land.

"It's like looking at your children out there," he said.

But Gates knew the race didn't start on equal footing; not all seedlings had an equal chance. The luckiest ones were planted at high elevations where it is much easier for them to get the right amount of moisture at the right times. Even in a drought, high elevations have the first and most frequent access to rain water. These areas are now covered in full fields of long grasses that spread and populated until a cheat grass shoot could hardly be found. Gates said he knows of few things more beautiful.

Other lucky ones were chained during or right before the winter snow storms.

"If you can get them in that snow, that's as good as an irrigation turn," Gates said.

Knowing this, Gates had his crews keep chaining through the winter storms, even having them work in a foot and a half of snow. But now, six months later, he was right; they look like full pastures.

Other seedlings were not so lucky. Gates allocated thousands of seeds to a long, lower elevation valley between hills. Before the fire, this area managed to grow a healthy amount of native grass despite salty soil. But when the fire stripped the landscape, the area became a natural wind tunnel channeled between the surrounding hills. On top of that, the seedlings in this area didn't get chained until spring 2008, a late start against the cheat grass.

Fighting the wind

"The wind blows the soil and rolls the seed with it," Gates said. "Those poor little seedlings in the one- and two-leaf stages, that wind comes and just sheers them."

Gates himself has been tossed about in the winds, which he estimated at 50 miles an hour.

"You can't even see when that wind picks up," Gates said. "It's like glass hitting your car. It rips the bark right off the juniper trees."

On top of this, the irregular rain season has made it nearly impossible for these seedlings to grow and stabilize the soil. Gates knew he couldn't do anything more for them, but still lamented having to leave them at the mercy of the elements.

"It's like a farmer," he said. "He's got to plant his field, and if the grasshoppers come, you've just got to try anyway."

He studied the ground for single survivors, brightening slightly with each one.

"I still have hope for them," he said.

If these seedlings don't grow, Gates will make them part of his rehabilitation plan next year. The area will be reseeded, this time closer to winter, he hopes.

Other areas that didn't grow as expected because of irregular rain, late start or elevation will also be reseeded after Gates gets funding. Gates will watch the new seedlings with just as much hopeful anticipation as the original batch.

Even in areas where the reseedings did grow, Gates will keep a watchful eye for another year as conditions continue to stabilize. Most of the burnt land will not be grazed for at least two years to insure a healthy grass population and prevent over-grazing.

This tears Gates.

He recalls clearly fighting as a rancher for land to graze his family's cattle on, land that spelled livelihood. But he also feels his parental roll over the new grasses. They need help in their battle against cheat grass before they endure grazing, too.

His protective side wins this time as his leather fingertips brush the grasses in a middle elevation, chained area. He will go the extra mile to help ranchers find grazing this season, but he won't sacrifice the still fragile environment.

The farmer in him comes out as his eyes glaze over with images of healthy cattle, gentle rains and abundant feed. Gates' fight to heal the landscape is not over yet, but he has enough hope to carry him through another fire season.

"We're behind with the lack of moisture and coldness," he said. "But that doesn't mean you can't win."

Copyright Brigham Young University 2 Jul 2008