Prescribed Burners Hear About
Kansas And Georgia Experiences

By Colleen Schreiber

KERRVILLE — For a hundred years or so, from 1870 through 1970, the Flint Hills of Kansas burned on a regular basis and it was ranchers who did the burning. Today some five to six million acres of native prairie is burned periodically to annually. Of that, about three million acres are burned annually. If it’s a wet year, as much as 4.5 to five million acres will likely be burned.

The primary reason for doing prescribed burning in Kansas is quite different from the motivation for most burns in Texas.

"We burn in the tallgrass prairie in the Flint Hills of Kansas to increase livestock gain," said Dr. Clenton Owensby.

"We’re talking about a 30 pound per head increase," Owensby told listeners. "In fact, folks in Texas when so many ranchers sent their cattle by rail to the Flint Hills, required that fire be part of the grazing contract on steers."

The second reason for burning is for weed and brush control.

"And that would be a distant second as opposed to here in Texas where that is probably the primary reason for burning," he noted.

Burning is also used to improve grazing distribution; wildlifers, the researcher added, are the most promiscuous burners in the state.

Owensby was one of many speakers at a recent prescribed burning workshop here. He shared with listeners the history and the process that took place in regulating prescribed burning in Kansas.

It was in the 1970s, after almost a century of unrestricted burning, that folks in charge of air quality decided something needed to be done in regard to regulating burning, Owensby told listeners.

"It became evident that if we didn’t do something, we would no longer be allowed to burn. We realized such restrictions would be a real economic disaster for our state," he said.

In an effort to curb the extreme, a group of concerned landowners and others who believed in the use of prescribed fire went to the legislature. In the end, legislation was passed which allowed burning again, but the regulations were extremely restrictive, primarily smoke restrictions, Owensby said.

Where the landowners won out was that the legislation specified that the new rules did not apply to those who had been burning previously.

"In other words, you were grandfathered in," Owensby said, "and then they assumed that everyone had been burning. In the end, we basically went back to the status quo of burning when and where we pleased."

Then a few years ago, things changed when a fire in the southern part of Kansas blew smoke across the turnpike. A man going 75 mph ran into the smoke, hit a guardrail and as a result his son, a passenger in the car, was killed.

"It was an issue that became extremely volatile and it stirred up a great deal of interest in changing the burning regulations," he told the group. "In some ways it was the best thing that ever happened, because in stirring us up it allowed us to refine what we were doing in terms of regulations. Until that point, we really didn’t have any regulations."

Hearings were conducted all over the state. The Kansas

Livestock Association and the Farm Bureau, Owensby said, were the primary groups who carried the ball and organized a response to the Kansas Department of Health and Environment’s regulations.

A committee of basically range experts was appointed to write the new regulations, but once again the rules were rather sparse.

"We took into consideration that burning a short or tall grass prairie is quite different from, say, burning in the forests of East Texas or volatile fuels in Central Texas," he said.

The basic regulations included: notification of local fire patrol authority before commencing burn; burning should not create a traffic safety hazard; if the smoke should cross a road, the highway patrol and/or sheriff’s office must be notified; burning shall not create an airport safety hazard; and the burn is to be supervised until the fire is extinguished.

Also in the bill was a statement which said, "the Department of health and Environment recognizes that control of agricultural burning lies with local government entities."

The department, Owensby added, encourages local government to adopt local ordinances regarding agricultural burning.

"There are certainly greater smoke concerns in the large metropolitan areas like Topeka or Wichita than, say, in Chase County out in the middle of the hills, so it’s up to the local counties to adapt their policies to those situations."

For instance, some counties will occasionally implement a burning ban when wildfires have been extremely bad, and such stipulations are written into their county guidelines, he explained.

The permitting system is not mandatory either on the state or county level, which means one can still burn without a permit.

"If you don’t do these things, however, and the fire gets away, then you will be charged for the efforts of fighting that fire," Owensby told listeners. "The idea is in our state that it is the rancher’s right to burn. He can burn without your permission, but if he gets your permission there won’t be a charge if the fire gets out."

In 1982, Extension Forestry and Extension Range Management put together a joint fire training program. Since then, about 3000 have participated in these classes.

In addition to Owensby’s Kansas experiences, listeners also heard the Georgia perspective from Wesley Wells, chief of forestry protection for the Georgia Forestry Commission.

Georgia has 11 million acres in pine plantations, Wells told listeners, and fire is the way those lands are managed. Currently, about 800,000 acres are burned annually under prescribed conditions.

"We need prescribed burning," Wells said. "Forestry in Georgia is the largest industry in the state, a $19.5 billion industry, and employs thousands of people. We have a lot of wildfires, on the average about 10,000 fires a year, but the average size is about 4.3 acres, so we’re are able to manage them with the amount of prescribed burning we do."

In an effort to manage and police themselves rather than be policed, the state initiated a permitting system in 1988.

"Smoke is our biggest problem," Wells said. "We have to be able to manage the smoke."

Before the permitting system was put in place there was a notification system of sorts, where people would call in to the Forestry Commission if they wanted to burn. The commission would tell the landowner whether it was a good day to burn or not.

"It didn’t mean that they couldn’t burn if the conditions weren’t right. Some would burn anyway, and that’s when the problems started.

"When you shut down the Atlanta Airport with smoke, my phone rings off the hook," Wells said. "Talk about screaming. We not only socked in the airport, but we also socked in the Atlanta Braves game that same night."

Complaints were becoming so great that prescribed burning was on the verge of being banned across the state. Wells and others realized that something had to be done. Thus, in 1988 the legislature drafted and passed the Georgia Forest Fire Protection Act, which basically said a permit would be required for any and all kinds of burning.

"We didn’t know how that would work," Wells admitted. "A few people were really against it. They were against the Georgia Forestry Commission regulating their burning."

To counteract the negativism, the forest commission began an educational program to tell the people just what they intended with the new law.

"We weren’t trying to stop burning," Wells said. "We wanted, in fact, to increase burning, and by having a permit we could better manage the smoke."

The first year the Georgia Forestry Commission issued

300,000 permits, and they’re still issuing about that many permits today, "but we’re controlling the smoke," Wells noted, "and we haven’t had any accidents."

The commission has an agreement with the Georgia State Patrol and the Department of Transportation. In situations when a permit is issued for a fire larger than 100 acres, those departments must be contacted if there is a chance that smoke might impact a major highway. That way traffic can be monitored if necessary.

When landowners call in for permits, they’re required to give their name, location of the burn unit and what they’re going to burn.

"It’s a telephone call to get a permit," Wells told listeners. "It’s on a county basis, so our people are pretty well familiar with the area. If they’re not, then they will go out and look at the burn unit."

The regulations do not require that a written fire plan be presented to the commission, but permitees are encouraged to go over their plan with their county forester.

The permitting system, Wells said, has tied up one person in every county unit just in issuing the permits. Permits can be issued seven days a week after three p.m. on the afternoon prior to the day the burn is to be conducted. Remote weather stations are in place all over the state so those wishing to do prescribed burning can get spot forecasts quickly and accurately.

The state is also divided into 12 districts, and in each district a staff meteorologist generates a forecast twice a day. They also provide a five-day forecast for those who are planning to conduct a burn. Each forecast includes a national fire danger rating.

"I believe we have the best forecasting system anywhere in the nation," Wells remarked. "Having control of our own meteorologist is a little better than trying to work with the National Weather Service."

There is no charge for a permit, which is good for 24 hours. If conditions are not favorable for burning that day, the commission has the right to deny the permit.

"Through education, people now understand why we have to deny some permits," Wells told listeners.

If a burn is conducted without a permit, he added, the forestry commission has the power to issue a warrant.

The process of writing the rules and regulations for the permitting process was a cooperative effort with various government agencies like the air quality control board as well as private landowners, the speaker noted.

In 1992 those dealing in prescribed fire on a regular basis came to the conclusion that a certification program was needed. In response, the legislature passed the Prescribed Burn Act, which says prescribed burning is a right for landowners in Georgia.

"We thought that was a big plus, getting the legislature to recognize the importance of prescribed burning," Wells told listeners.

He went on to explain that the Act does not require everyone to be a certified burner. One still has the right to burn without certification, but everyone is encouraged to become certified.

The certification process involves a one-day, eight-hour course.

"We don’t want to teach people how to burn," Wells remarked. "When they come to us, we want them to already know how to burn. We want them to have at least five burns under their belt and have an affidavit signed by their boss certifying that they’ve done some burning."

The certification is good for five years. At the end of that time, a refresher course is offered.

"Certification is not as bad as it sounds," Wells insisted. "It’s a good thing. It gives a little credibility to burners. Talking to lawyers, they’ve told us that if a burner is certified and has done everything properly, they will be judged differently than the guy who just went out and lit a match."

Unlike in Texas, in part to limit liability, employees of the Georgia Forest Commission are not allowed to set a fire on private land. The landowner has to be there to strike that match. They are allowed, however, to be on site to help conduct the burn.

Since 1992, more than 1000 individuals have been certified. The state is trying to teach three courses a year, and some of the universities assist in the training process. There is a $35 course fee and the entity who conducts the training receives all proceeds.

This year the Georgia Prescribed Fire Council was formed. It’s a cooperative effort between private landowners and federal and state government, Wells explained, everyone who deals with fire or is interested in burning. The mission is to encourage the exchange and sharing of knowledge and technology and increase public understanding of prescribed burning.

"The people we’re trying to reach is the legislatures, environmental groups, urbanites, etc. We want to tell our story and show them the success stories using fire.

"Smoky Bear has his place," Wells concluded, "but prescribed burning does as well."