An upriver view of the Nisqually River, before and after an influx of wildfire smoke in Mount Rainier National Park / Rebecca Latson
I’m a photographer, so maybe I should have titled this “Wildfire Smoke In A National Park Affects More Than Just Your Photos.” Regardless of the title, if you’ve read the Traveler’s previous article about wildfire smoke in Western national parks, then you’ve seen images of usually-identifiable-but-now-barely-discernable landscapes within Sequoia (currently closed as of this writing due to the Castle Fire on the SQF Complex), Crater Lake, Yosemite, and Mount Rainier national parks.
I visited the area around the Nisqually – Paradise corridor of Mount Rainier National Park on September 12-13, with the intention of capturing lovely, clear images. I’d reviewed the weather reports and they predicted all clear to go for me. Leaving my home in Yakima at 2 a.m., I arrived at Reflection Lakes during the pre-dawn hour of 4 a.m. with the intention of photographing blue hour and sunrise over “The Mountain” and its reflection in the mirror-smooth lake water. As the sun rose, the wildfire smoke from California and Oregon began rolling in.
Moonlight over "The Mountain," Mount Rainier National Park / Rebecca Latson
A smoky sunrise at Reflection Lakes, Mount Rainier National Park / Rebecca Latson
A smoky view at the bridge over the Nisqually River, Mount Rainier National Park / Rebecca Latson
Throughout the day, the smoke thicknened while bathing the entire area with a dirty yellow hue, smelling strongly of what I refer to as “campfire.” I marveled at the continuing influx of cars heading to Paradise and filling parking lots at trailheads such as Comet Falls and view areas such as Christine Falls. Guess a little wildfire smoke wasn’t going to keep people with cabin fever from heading into the park. While I captured wonderful images of wildlife and moody scenery, the smoke did finally get to me and I decided I’d had enough, making my way down elevation to spend the night in an Ashford hotel.
Arising the following morning to smoke as thick as the previous day's – thick enough for me to view the sun with unaided eyes - I started thinking about how wildfire smoke from one state affects parks in other states. I cut my park visit short as my growing sinus congestion, scratchy throat, itchy eyes, and headache reminded me that wildfire smoke contains particulate matter consisting of “a mix of gases and fine particles from burning trees and plants, buildings, and other material.”
A smoky sunrise over the Nisqually River along the Nisqually-Paradise Corridor, Mount Rainier National Park / Rebecca Latson
What the view looks like at Tipsoo Lake on a clear day, and what it looks like when wildfire smoke rolls in, Mount Rainier National Park / Rebecca Latson
Upon returning home, I ran several Google queries regarding health effects from wildfire smoke. My searches produced a plethora of articles and links explaining the unsalutary outcomes of smoke exposure. The upshot is that wildfire smoke is not beneficial to people at all. Period. It tends to first impact anybody with respiratory or other health issues, the very young, the elderly, pregnant women, firefighters, and other first responders.
If wildfire smoke impacts humans, then I’m pretty certain it affects wildlife, too. Before I left Mount Rainier, I had a chance opportunity to chat with one Ranger Quincy, who pulled up beside me in his NPS law enforcement vehicle (NO, I was not in trouble) as I was putting my camera and tripod back in the car. I asked him if he’d noticed any change in wildlife behavior and he said he’d seen more wildlife being sort of indecisive as to where to go in the smoke, and ultimately “hunkering down” closer to the roads as the smoke thickened.
In an effort to learn more about how smoke might influence the health of wildlife, I ran some Google searches, pulling up an online 2018 article in baynature.org about wildfire smoke and wildlife by Alison Hermance, director of communications at Wildcare, an organization located in Marin County, California, that treats sick and injured wildlife and educates children and adults about the wildlife around them.
From that article, I learned that mammals and birds breathe differently – mammals use a diaphragm to inhale and exhale, breathing oxygen into their lungs and exhaling carbon dioxide, while birds have a respiratory system of air sacs throughout their bodies. These air sacs change shape as a bird moves, acting like bellows “to draw air in and push it out.”
While Ms. Hermance mentioned more than once that they couldn’t be sure, she did write that perhaps a bird not moving much might not take in as much smoke as a more active avian, thus limiting smoke’s deleterious effects. She also suggested that “watery eyes and difficulty breathing” due to the smoke might have impacted wildlife’s ability to avoid injury with oncoming cars. Again, she stressed that there was just not that much long-term research results out there to corroborate this.
A February 14, 2020, Science Magazine online article discussed the long-term health effects on animals from wildfire smoke. The opportunity arose for a long-term study by the respiratory diseases unit of the California National Primate Research Center, which tracked the immune and lung function changes in monkeys at the research center that were exposed to wildfire smoke which had spread over the entire state of California back in June 2008. This study indicated lasting damage to lung tissue as well as a weakened immune response in the monkeys. This led me to think it’s not out of the realm of possibility that similar results might be occurring to national park wildlife exposed to wildfire smoke.
I discussed with my sister what I’d discovered through all this reading and she asked me if bird flight was affected by wildfire smoke. I hadn’t considered that aspect but she asked a good question. I thought I’d hit pay dirt when I found an August 28, 2018, article (updated December 20, 2018) for the online Chinookobserver.com by Dr. Madeline A. Kalbach. Ultimately, the only thing I learned from that particular story was that there really is very little research on the negative impacts of birds due to wildfire smoke and that it’s up to citizen scientists to help researchers by making notes on bird activities they observe during wildfire smoke-filled days.
An online Audubon.org article by Audubon’s editors also indicate a dearth of research into how wildfires, and particularly, wildfire smoke, impact birds. One paragraph in the article does make note of the possibility that smoke inhalation might make it more difficult for birds to fly away from oncoming fires, citing a 1999 fire in the Everglades in which thick smoke might have contributed to the deaths of 50 adult white ibises.
I showed my article to Traveler's Kurt Repanshek, who sent me a link to a very interesting New York Times online article from this past week by Simon Romero about a migratory bird die-off in what is believed to be in the hundreds of thousands, from West Texas to southern Colorado to parts of New Mexico, "triggering one of the Southwest’s largest bird die-offs in recent memory." The short video clip in this article alone is a bit rattling to me.
Among the theories postulated for this die-off is the suggestion that smoke from the current huge wildfires contains toxic compounds and particulate matter which might be a "prime factor" in the die-offs, adding to the intense heat and drought within these areas for a deadly combination to migratory birds. Results from testing dead bird specimens might "take months to diagnose." This brings to mind a "canary in a coal mine" scenario, which does not bode well for the health of humans or wildlife encountering wildfire smoke.
Of course, a national park is home not only to wildlife, but also plant life. A February 12, 2020, eos.org online article by Elizabeth Thompson reported on a study of how wildfire smoke affects photosynthesis and productivity in plants. Interestingly enough, the smoke didn’t so much block sunlight as scatter it. This diffused light was able to reach a greater number of “photosynthesizing leaves throughout the vegetation canopy.” The result is that plants studied were twice as efficient in using the scattered light for photosynthesis!
An earlier, August 23, 2018, online article by Steven Chua for the Squamish Chief echoes the above findings while reporting the added benefit of smoke increasing the existing carbon dioxide within an area, thus intensifying plants’ productivity (as long as there is enough existing light). On the other hand, the article reports that, depending upon the makeup of the smoke, particulates can coat leaf surfaces and clog stomatal pores, inhibiting photosynthesis and reducing gas exchange in the leaf.
So, while not exactly a win-win situation, the forest vegetation might emerge from the effects of wildfire smoke in better shape than wildlife.
Climate change is pointing toward longer fire seasons and more wildfires. Thus, wildfire smoke from fires in other states rolls into national parks near and far, impacting not only human health, but (apparently) the health of the inhabitants of America’s protected lands, as well. While this may be more than you care to think about during a vacation or spur-of-the-moment visit to a national park infiltrated by wildfire smoke, it is something to ponder, as it means much more than just the fact you may not be able to see (and photograph) Mount Rainier or Half Dome or Wizard Island.
A smoky morning in the park, Mount Rainier National Park / Rebecca Latson
References
https://www.cdc.gov/air/wildfire-smoke/default.htm
https://baynature.org/article/how-does-smoke-affect-wildlife/
https://www.sciencemag.org/news/2020/02/what-we-don-t-know-about-wildfire-smoke-likely-hurting-us
Comments
A fascinating article, thanks! I've not seen anything on the possible effects on plant life. Interesting that the haze would actually spread the light to some plants that weren't getting so much. You did some good research.
We were in Rocky Mountain NP last week and noticed lesser smoke effects there. Largely in sunsets -- or the lack thereoff. Without some clear blue sky and puffy clouds to reflect the sun in beautiful colors, everything was just sort of flat. Moreso on the West side, where we were staying. Up on Trail Ridge Road, the farther ranges like Never Summer and Mummy were partially obscured, like the chiaroscuro effect in the Smokies. We saw relatively few birds, compared with the numerous other times we've been there. And two times we saw bull moose and once a mountain sheep ram, none more than 40 yards off Trail Ridge. Never seen moose that close to the main road, and never seen a sheep other than at the sheep crossing spot. Confusion or coincidence? The elk were behaving pretty normally -- it's rutting season and boys will be boys!