1
WWW.SLTRIB.COM SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2011 OUR DYING FORESTS < F5 Engelmann spruce across Utah are un- der attack from ravenous beetle hordes. At left, a healthy stand of trees in Fishlake Na- tional Forest in cen- tral Utah. At right, a dying mature tree. Englemann spruce — the state’s dom- inant commercial- grade tree — grow slowly in high alti- tudes, and it will be 200 years or more until they grow back to the tower- ing sentinels that 20th-century Utahns knew. Engelmann spruce under attack Using a green- house gas emissions sce- nario that is proving conser- vative, the For- est Service’s Rocky Moun- tain Research Station projects a shrinking footprint for spruce in Utah and the Rockies. Fish Lake • Some three-toed woodpecker in these woods is pleasantly plump on beetles, but the buffet can’t go on for- ever. It lasts only as long as the trees. The gluttony is written on and around a stocky spruce that looks green and most- ly healthy to the untrained eye, except for the fact that it’s pecked nude from the waist down. No bird harmed the tree, though. The damage was al- ready done. “These trees are loaded with bugs,” said Liz Hebertson, a U.S. Forest Service entomolo- gist, down from Ogden to sur- vey this year’s spruce-beetle infestation in south-central Utah. Peeling back a neighbor- ing spruce’s bark confirms that larvae are maturing, readying for the short flight of their lives in search of new pine prey. It’s nothing new to her. Mountains of Utah’s verdant spruce slopes are gone. If cli- mate scientists are right, they might never be back. After a rain, Utah’s high spruce forests evoke the misty Pacific Northwest — unlikely lush islands rising from redrock desert and olive chaparral. Now a complex set of threats con- spires to take them down. One is natural — the beetle with a taste for older trees, aid- ed by a decade of tree-stressing drought. Another is a century of fire suppression that built up fuels to the bursting point. Aiding both those killers is a rising thermometer. Even if a warmer climate can again support Engelmann spruce — the state’s dominant commercial-grade tree — it will be 200 years or more until they grow back to the towering sentinels that 20th-century Utahns knew. In the meantime, subalpine firs may spring up in their place, replacing green for green but not with dollars. Subalpine firs are more brittle — not lumber material. A lot of people won’t take He- bertson’s advice and break out the chain saws when spruce needles are still green and in- viting. But this woodpecker tree, and every tree around it, will be red by next summer. “They’re dead,” said Fish- lake National Forest district silviculturist Terry Holsclaw, “but they just don’t know it yet.” T his alpine grove, above a flowery mead- ow at nearly 11,000 feet, is Holsclaw’s bat- tleground. Unsure of a climate connection beyond a basic drought, he blames time-con- suming battles with environ- mentalists and restrictions on road building for the spruces’ plight. He wants to sell trees faster than beetles can swarm them, thinking of it as a me- chanic might an oil change. Saving some spruce for lat- er is an investment that will pay off if the nation sees an- other building boom, he said. “That’s when you’ll want this inventory.” His attitude strikes some as a return to the glory days of the 1980s, when forests around here supplied support timber to coal mines at a dizzying pace and when many distrust- ed a federal agency they con- sidered recklessly industrialist. It isn’t that way now, Holsclaw said. Getting chain saws into the forest gives the survivors a greater share of the mountain’s water and sunlight, and a fight- ing chance to create a sticky sap to push out invading bugs. Here at a proposed 1,300- acre logging site called Tee- ples, Holsclaw hopes to head off a beetle wave that’s been spreading from the east for several years. “My philosophy is, if you can save it, try to save it,” he said. “And if it’s dead, capture the value.” It’s been a losing battle so far, and science suggests it’s a long- run lost cause. First, there’s the insect’s physiology and its response to increasing warmth. The cold- blooded spruce beetles in these hills once took two years to mature from the egg and fly on to breed in new trees. In the early 2000s, Hebertson said, forest scientists documented a switch to one-year cycles here, Beehive State someday could look more like northern Nevada. By BRANDON LOOMIS The Salt Lake Tribune Threats beset Utah’s spruce PHOTOS BY AL HARTMANN | The Salt Lake Tribune which boosted the population and primed a disaster. Beetles have taken 2 million acres of Utah forest in roughly that time, the largest share of it spruce. The outbreak start- ed in the 1990s around Cedar Breaks National Monument in southwestern Utah, where He- bertson has seen no evidence of spruce regeneration since. The Forest Service has found that higher temperatures aid and speed beetle production. The Utah Climate Center at Utah State University finds that since 1970 the mercury has ris- en swiftly when it counts most — more than 3 degrees on aver- age during bug-killing winter lows at a monitoring station at Capitol Reef National Park in southern-central Utah. A decade of beetles-gone- wild might not spell doom in normal conditions. Big out- breaks have shown up before, and the spruce have rebound- ed. This time, though, computer models based on society’s car- bon emissions aren’t looking good. They show Engelmann spruce practically blinking out in Utah by 2090, limited to a strand in the High Uintas. Most of Utah’s high-country spruce, plus the firs that asso- ciate with them, are in trou- ble — even under conservative carbon-emission models plot- ted by Idaho-based scientists at the Forest Service’s Rocky Mountain Research Station. At Brighton, for instance, the mean annual temperature on its spruce-lined slopes is expected to rise by century’s end above the 1961-90 “cur- rent” norm by a whopping 5½ degrees Celsius. Such a jump, according to Forest Service projections, would more than double the mountains’ growing season to 140 frost-free days, closing in on what exists today thou- sands of feet downslope in Salt Lake City. It’s not spruce coun- try, and, if this scenario plays out, neither would be most of Utah’s mountains. “The future certainly doesn’t look good for these alpine spe- cies,” said Jerry Rehfeldt, a retired plant geneticist who worked on the tree-habitat projections at a lab in Moscow, Idaho. “I think we can say, pos- itively, Engelmann spruce will have a much smaller role in Utah than it does today.” Gradually, Rehfeldt said, dryland species would move uphill while desertification takes hold in the foothills. Utah would look more like northern Nevada. “The big winner throughout the Great Basin,” Rehfeldt said, “is desert scrub.” S omething besides climate helped build today’s massive beetle outbreaks. Andrea Brunelle, a University of Utah paleoecologist, studies lake sediments with pollen depos- its to determine when trees thrived and when they died. Utah pioneers made their mark on the forest, she said, and it’s showing now. Starting in the 1850s, they axed trees. In places such as the Markagunt Plateau east of Cedar City, they logged the land bare. The ho- mogenous forest that grew back is filled with a single generation of trees uniformly susceptible to drought and other stresses. “The magnitude of these out- breaks,” Brunelle said, “might be different just because of the historic land-management practices.” For those trying to prune the forest and strengthen what remains, administrative head- aches persist. One, in Fishlake National Forest, is a Clinton- era rule that prevents build- ing roads into wild areas. Most of the forest’s spruce grow in the roadless high country, Holsclaw said. “It’s more the roadless area than anything else that’s the Current suitable habitat: Engel- mann spruce habi- tat across the West By 2030: Across the West, spruce densi- ty on the decline By 2060: Uinta Range among last bastions for habitat By 2090: Engel- mann habitat se- verely diminished Note: Based on International Panel on Climate Change “A2” scenario. Sources: International Journal of Plant Sciences, U.S. Forest Service The Salt Lake Tribune Zachary Williams, a for- estry technician with the U.S Forest Service, exam- ines a group of Engel- mann spruce in Fishlake National Forest. Please see NEXT PAGE

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WWW.SLTRIB.COM SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2011 ≤ OUR DYING FORESTS < F5

Engelmann spruceacross Utah are un-

der attack fromravenous beetlehordes. At left, ahealthy stand of

trees in Fishlake Na-tional Forest in cen-tral Utah. At right, adying mature tree.Englemann spruce— the state’s dom-inant commercial-

grade tree — growslowly in high alti-

tudes, and it will be200 years or more

until they growback to the tower-ing sentinels that

20th-century Utahnsknew.

Engelmannspruceunderattack

Using a green-house gasemissions sce-nario that isproving conser-vative, the For-est Service’sRocky Moun-tain ResearchStation projectsa shrinkingfootprintfor spruce inUtah and theRockies.

Fish Lake • Some three-toedwoodpecker in these woods ispleasantly plump on beetles,but the buffet can’t go on for-ever. It lasts only as long as thetrees.The gluttony is written on

and around a stocky sprucethat looks green and most-ly healthy to the untrainedeye, except for the fact that it’specked nude from the waistdown.

No bird harmed the tree,though. The damage was al-ready done.“These trees are loadedwith

bugs,” said Liz Hebertson, aU.S. Forest Service entomolo-gist, down fromOgden to sur-vey this year’s spruce-beetleinfestation in south-centralUtah. Peeling back a neighbor-ing spruce’s bark confirms thatlarvae arematuring, readyingfor the short flight of their livesin search of new pine prey.It ’s nothing new to her.

Mountains of Utah’s verdantspruce slopes are gone. If cli-mate scientists are right, theymight never be back.After a rain, Utah’s high

spruce forests evoke themistyPacific Northwest — unlikelylush islands rising fromredrockdesert andolivechaparral.Nowa complex set of threats con-spires to take themdown.

One is natural — the beetlewith a taste for older trees, aid-edby adecadeof tree-stressingdrought. Another is a centuryof fire suppression that builtup fuels to the bursting point.Aiding both those killers is arising thermometer.

Even if a warmer climatecan again support Engelmannspruce— the state’s dominantcommercial-grade tree — itwill be 200 years ormore untilthey growback to the towering

sentinels that 20th-centuryUtahns knew. In themeantime,subalpine firs may spring upin their place, replacing greenfor green but not with dollars.Subalpine firs aremore brittle— not lumbermaterial.

A lot of peoplewon’t takeHe-bertson’s advice and break outthe chain saws when spruceneedles are still green and in-viting.But thiswoodpecker tree,andevery treearound it,will bered bynext summer.“They’re dead,” said Fish-

lake National Forest districtsilviculturist Terry Holsclaw,“but they just don’t know it yet.”

Th i s a l p i n egrove, above aflowery mead-ow at nearly11,000 feet, isHolsclaw’s bat-

tleground.Unsure of a climateconnection beyond a basicdrought, he blames time-con-suming battles with environ-mentalists and restrictions onroad building for the spruces’plight. He wants to sell treesfaster than beetles can swarmthem, thinking of it as a me-chanicmight an oil change.

Saving some spruce for lat-er is an investment that willpay off if the nation sees an-other building boom, he said.“That’s when you’ll want thisinventory.”

His attitude strikes some asa return to the glory days ofthe 1980s,when forests aroundhere supplied support timberto coal mines at a dizzyingpace and whenmany distrust-ed a federal agency they con-sidered recklessly industrialist.It isn’t that way now,

Holsclaw said.Getting chain saws into the

forest gives the survivors agreater shareof themountain’swater and sunlight, and a fight-ingchance tocreatea sticky sapto push out invading bugs.

Here at a proposed 1,300-acre logging site called Tee-ples, Holsclaw hopes to headoff a beetle wave that’s beenspreading from the east forseveral years.“Myphilosophy is, if you can

save it, try to save it,” he said.“And if it’s dead, capture thevalue.”

It’s been a losing battle so far,and science suggests it’s a long-run lost cause.

First, there’s the insect’sphysiology and its response toincreasing warmth. The cold-blooded sprucebeetles in thesehills once took two years tomature from the egg and flyon tobreed innew trees. In theearly 2000s, Hebertson said,forest scientists documented aswitch to one-year cycles here,

Beehive State someday couldlook more like northern Nevada.

By BRANDON LOOMISThe Salt Lake Tribune

Threats besetUtah’s spruce

PHOTOS BY AL HARTMANN | The Salt Lake Tribune

which boosted the populationand primed a disaster.

Beetles have taken2millionacres ofUtah forest in roughlythat time, the largest share ofit spruce. The outbreak start-ed in the 1990s around CedarBreaksNationalMonument insouthwesternUtah, whereHe-bertson has seen no evidenceof spruce regeneration since.TheForestServicehas found

that higher temperatures aidand speed beetle production.The Utah Climate Center atUtahStateUniversityfinds thatsince 1970 themercury has ris-en swiftly when it countsmost—more than 3 degrees on aver-age during bug-killing winterlows at amonitoring station atCapitol Reef National Park insouthern-centralUtah.A decade of beetles-gone-

wild might not spell doom innormal conditions. Big out-breaks have shown up before,and the spruce have rebound-ed.This time, though, computermodels based on society’s car-bon emissions aren’t lookinggood. They show Engelmannspruce practically blinking outin Utah by 2090, limited to astrand in theHighUintas.Most ofUtah’s high-country

spruce, plus the firs that asso-ciate with them, are in trou-ble— even under conservativecarbon-emission models plot-ted by Idaho-based scientistsat the Forest Service’s RockyMountain Research Station.

At Brighton, for instance,themean annual temperatureon its spruce-lined slopes isexpected to rise by century’send above the 1961-90 “cur-rent” normby awhopping 5½degrees Celsius.

Such a jump, according toForest Service projections,would more than double themountains’ growing seasonto 140 frost-free days, closingin on what exists today thou-sands of feet downslope in SaltLakeCity. It’s not spruce coun-try, and, if this scenario playsout, neither would be most ofUtah’smountains.

“The future certainly doesn’tlook good for these alpine spe-cies,” said Jerry Rehfeldt, aretired plant geneticist whoworked on the tree-habitatprojections at a lab inMoscow,Idaho. “I thinkwe can say, pos-itively, Engelmann sprucewillhave a much smaller role inUtah than it does today.”

Gradually, Rehfeldt said,dryland species would moveuphill while desertificationtakes hold in the foothills.Utah would look more likenorthernNevada.“The big winner throughout

theGreat Basin,” Rehfeldt said,“is desert scrub.”

Something besidesclimate helpedbu i ld today ’smassive beetleoutbreaks.A n d r e a

Brunelle, a University of Utahpaleoecologist, studies lakesediments with pollen depos-its to determine when treesthrived andwhen they died.

Utah pioneers made theirmark on the forest, she said,and it’s showing now. Startingin the 1850s, theyaxed trees. Inplaces such as theMarkaguntPlateau east ofCedarCity, theylogged the land bare. The ho-mogenous forest that grewbackisfilledwitha single generationof trees uniformly susceptibleto drought and other stresses.“Themagnitude of these out-

breaks,” Brunelle said, “mightbe different just because ofthe historic land-managementpractices.”For those trying to prune

the forest and strengthenwhatremains, administrative head-aches persist. One, in FishlakeNational Forest, is a Clinton-era rule that prevents build-ing roads intowild areas.Mostof the forest’s spruce grow inthe roadless high country,Holsclaw said.“It’s more the roadless area

than anything else that’s the

Current suitablehabitat: Engel-mann spruce habi-tat across the West

By 2030: Across theWest, spruce densi-ty on the decline

By 2060: UintaRange among lastbastions for habitat

By 2090: Engel-mann habitat se-verely diminished

Note: Based on InternationalPanel on Climate Change “A2”scenario.

Sources: International Journalof Plant Sciences, U.S. ForestService

The Salt Lake Tribune

Zachary Williams, a for-estry technician with theU.S Forest Service, exam-ines a group of Engel-mann spruce in FishlakeNational Forest.

Please seeNEXT PAGE