Only On The Walters Post
By GW
Up here in the north, we know smoke, as we see it hanging low on the horizon, like a warning or a memory, depending on how you look at it. And we’ve sure seen more of it these last few years, fire after fire, hotter, wilder, burning faster than anyone seems ready for. Folks ask, “What can we do?” but maybe the better question is, “What did we used to do?”
You see, I’m an old timer. I’ve watched the land change, the seasons shift, and I remember when fire wasn’t such a villain. Back when I was a boy, there wasn’t much we could do when a wildfire broke out way out past the cutlines which wasn’t a bad thing. The forest burned, then came back greener. It was part of the cycle.
But long before my time, there were people here who knew fire better than we ever did… the Indigenous peoples, or as some still prefer, Native American Indians or First Nations, depending on the region. They understood fire not as an enemy, but as a living force. A teacher. A tool. Their communities practiced what’s now called cultural burning, setting small, cool fires in the early spring or fall to clear underbrush, bring back berries, open up hunting paths, and reduce the fuel that leads to the monster blazes we see now.
These weren’t random fires. They were careful, respectful, and tied deeply to the land and the seasons. Firekeepers would walk the ground, listen to the animals, smell the wind. They knew where to burn, how hot, and when to stop. And it worked, as the land stayed balanced. The trees weren’t so choked with brush, and the fires that did happen stayed low and manageable.
Then came the government bans. Fire suppression laws, mostly pushed in the early 1900s, outlawed traditional burning. Fire crews were trained to put out every flame. Planes, chemicals, bulldozers, all tools to fight something that maybe shouldn’t have always been fought. And sure, some fires had to be stopped. But by putting out every fire, year after year, we built up a problem: thick forests, dry dead fall, layers of fuel just waiting for one lightning strike or careless spark.
Now the fires are bigger than ever. They jump highways, climb trees like ladders, and send smoke across provinces. Our policies, made with good intentions maybe, but not much listening, have helped create conditions where fires don’t just burn, they rage. We traded slow, healing burns for uncontrollable infernos.
The sad truth is, we’re relearning what some communities never forgot. Indigenous fire keepers… the knowledge holders, are still out there, often unrecognized, still willing to teach if we’ll bother to ask. Some provinces are starting to invite them back to the table. It’s a start.
So no, I don’t think we should just sit back and let it all burn. But I do think it’s time we stop fighting fire with fear and start working with it, like we once did. It’s not about going back to the old days exactly, but about remembering the parts that worked. Letting fire breathe, in the right time and way, might just save our forests and us.
Until the next time: Keep Your Minds Open & Your Stories Alive. GW
