Bastrop State Park has been conducting more prescribed burns (they’ve been doing scheduled burns since 2002). For those not familiar, the process of planning and executing a prescribed burn is not at all unlike a moon shot. . .many conditions—not always in the habit of cooperating—have to fall into line at roughly the same time. It’s like trying to get the U.S. Congress to, you know, pass a law! Consequently, announcing the intention of a prescribed burn and actually pulling one off are two completely different things. Adjustments to plans, delays, coordination, checking, cross-checking—everything is always in a state of flux until right before the torches are lit.
Since 2013, the maniacs have turned their focus more toward the three state parks, so we have done a lot of work with our two-county park staff and the burn at BSP is no exception. At first, the effort was to help prepare selected bridges in the burn zone (gotta save the bridges first, right?). This entailed getting out there with chainsaws, loppers and a forestry tool known as a McCloud (a stout combination brush rake and entrenching tool) to clear away small trees, bushes, brush and ground litter around said bridge to remove the fuel that, if ignited, could destroy the wooden bridge. Next, a 6-12 inch “scratch line” is hacked into the earth in a 10-15 ft. perimeter around the cleaned out area. The thought being that even if the flames jump this protective scratch line, the fuel load inside the perimeter is so slight as to not support a fire large enough to endanger the wooden bridge. Over several work sessions, the Maniacs (with the help of park staff) “immunized” all the bridges in the planned burn zone. Mission accomplished.
Not so fast! Have you noticed the natural re-sprout baby pine trees that have popped up at BSP after the fire? Well, other people have. . .namely Gary Buckwalter and Steve Moredock. Being natural re-sprouts, these seedlings are endowed with seemingly magical genes, and most all of them are taller and stronger than the thousands of hand-planted seedlings with roughly the same time in the ground. Although some are nearly five or six feet tall by now (theoretically tall enough to survive a low intensity prescribed burn), many are still small enough
to merely serve as kindling. And there’s the problem. There are enough of these natural baby pines spread through the designated burn zones that Mssrs. Buckwalter and Moredock failed to see the virtue of burning them up on purpose. . .something about “we’re going to burn up new trees that are several years taller than the hand-planted ones and take the area back to post-fire nakedness?” Now granted, a prescribed burn is a big deal with long-term expected benefits (not the least of which is clearing space for new seedlings to be planted later) and there are a lot of downed logs and encroaching invasive plants that have already filled the void left by the Bastrop County Complex fires of 2011. One gets the sense that park staff are looking down the line to a “greater good,” but that didn’t impress these two gentlemen greatly.
After a thorough reconnaissance of the burn zones, groupings of healthy natural re-sprouts were identified and, in some cases photographed for a “before and after” comparison, the call went out for volunteers to help with the cause. The “cause” was even 
eventually blessed by park staff, although their plate was already full and their priorities lay elsewhere. The response was muted. There was, after all, an alternative view that the immensity of the task would not be worth the effort, especially considering a ticking timeline for getting the burn done inside Park Road 1-A. In other words, this was not a “high productivity” project. It’s raw speculation on my part, but there might also have been some compassion fatigue, a certain “burnout” of caring after the emotional ordeal of the wildfires. Maybe people want to forget about fires (and all their implications) and work on more optimistic projects. Regardless, lackluster response to the task would normally have broken the will of all but the most passionate conservationists.
Amid a sense of “too much to do and not enough time to do it,” save the baby pines somehow found its way into the banner of several Meet-Up notices aimed at the Bridge Maniacs. You have to admit, the phrase does tug at the heartstrings a little. As this is printed, at least two Maniac workdays were devoted to protecting the vulnerable seedlings from the prescribed burns. With chainsaws, loppers, rakes and McClouds, the Maniacs frenetically attacked multiple hillsides, scouring perimeters clean of brush, deadwood and leaf litter. Scratch lines were cut where they could be. After these sessions, perhaps 50-75 young trees were protected—barely a dent in the estimated 1.5 million trees lost to wildfires in the park, or the planned 2 million new seedlings to be planted over five years.
As helpful as these two sessions might have been, the unsung fight continues on other days in other venues. Moredock claims to be a minor player, yet he continues to do what he can with
the time he has available. He still shows up! Buckwalter is on what appears to be a blood quest, imploring park staff, convincing the Friends of the Lost Pines State Parks to embark on their own Save the Baby Pines workdays and continuing to pour his personal time into the effort against the relentless march of time. Through informal scouting surveys, Gary estimates that some 388 baby pines have been (through November 21) adequately protected from the impending flames. He says, “A mature 10-year old pine can produce from 9,000-20,000 seeds a year. The wind can easily spread them 200-300 ft. Do the math; we have given a gift to the park that will keep on giving for decades.” Echoes of Charge of the Light Brigade bounce around in the back of my head. Valor is never so rare as in the shadow of overwhelming odds!