Landowners in the southeastern United States resort to traditional fire practices as forest fire risk increases.

Courtney Steed often burns her feet barefoot. It’s a practical choice in part. Lighting fires in the sandy hills of central North Carolina requires an understanding of moisture levels in the small shrubs, and you get a better sense of that when you’re barefoot. But for Steed, a Lumbee and leader of the Cultural Burn Association of the tribe, it’s also about forming a connection with the land and her relatives. She said: “I’m sure they didn’t wear fire shoes.”

When we think of wildfires, most people imagine the western United States. And while these states have burned at an alarming rate in recent years, wildfires have long been a destructive force in the East as well. It wasn’t always like that. For over 10,000 years, the Lumbee people, like many indigenous populations, used controlled burns to enhance healthy ecological systems, clean up brush and wool. This practice was almost eradicated, as colonization and genocide sanctioned by tribal governments forced nearly 99% of its lands to be vacated. Some states, including California, banned controlled burns, and in 1905, the US government made forest fire fighting its policy at any cost.

The benefits of controlled burns are well established, and this practice, along with other indigenous land management techniques, has seen a revival in the West. Now it is becoming increasingly common in the Southeast where people like Steed are reintroducing fire to much-needed areas.

Organizations like the Cultural Burn Association work with landowners to light fires on farms and homes. These efforts have bolstered the work of the US Forest Service’s Southern Region, which has burned over a million acres annually on average over the past five years. But even this is not enough to match the historical scale or the recurrence of wildfires there. The largest increase in large wildfires in the country over the past two decades occurred in the southeastern and central Appalachians, where the frequency of large fires doubled compared to between 1984 and 1999. Each year, about 45,000 wildfires consume a million acres in the area, which spans 13 states.

All this poses a serious threat, as urban centers like Asheville in North Carolina and Savannah in Georgia have no significant buffer between communities and forests alongside them, in an area known as the wildland-urban interface. In North Carolina, for example, 45% of the state’s 4.7 million homes are located within that area. But reclaiming indigenous burns is not as easy as it is in the West, as 86% of the area’s lands are privately owned. Adding to the challenge is the fact that many people see fire as a threat that must be quickly extinguished. Even those who want to burn their properties can wait years to do so.

“We have a huge number of landowners with the Forest Service here, and they’re never going to burn lands for themselves. They can’t; they don’t have the capacity,” Steed said. This leaves groups like hers with a singular option, and “if we can’t do it, there will be dire consequences.”

Throughout the country, drought, rising temperatures, and shifting rainfall patterns have made wildfires larger, more frequent, and more intense. These changes are particularly worrisome in the southeast, as about 90 million people live there, many of them in close proximity to the wildland-urban interface.

Victoria Donovan, assistant professor of forest management at the University of Florida and chief author of a study found: “The interface between wildlands and urban areas is where we tend to see most of the risks and damages from wildfires on human lives and properties.” The southwest saw the largest increase in large wildfires. “It’s widespread, it continues to grow, and it’s expected to continue in this direction in the future.”

Among the five states with the highest number of homes in this hazard area, two are in the southeast: Florida (which has effectively used controlled burns since 1971) and North Carolina. And a third, Pennsylvania, is adjacent. The threat is no less acute elsewhere: in South Carolina, 56% of all homes are in the Wildland-Urban Interface (WUI). And in West Virginia, the percentage is about 80%. Major cities are not exempt either; in McLean County, which includes Charlotte in North Carolina, 11% of homes are located within it.

Despite the heightened risks, many homeowners are unaware of this danger. “They don’t link these areas with major wildfires; Donovan said, “We think of that happening out West.” “So, people aren’t preparing for it in the same way they might prepare, say, for a hurricane.”

She added that without mitigation, large fires could become a foregone conclusion in a landscape where aggressive suppression has led to a buildup of fuel and hotter, more difficult fires to extinguish. Donovan said: “You have these dynamics that are occurring in the area, and then they cause changes in the climate and possibly warmer, drier conditions, and set yourself up for more devastating wildfires.”

These dynamics were evident in April 2023, when a fire in Croatan National Forest in North Carolina jumped from 7,000 acres to 32,000 acres in two days and burned for 10 weeks. And in 2016, the Great Smoky Mountains fire led to 14 deaths, destroyed 2,500 buildings, and caused $2 billion in damage in eastern Tennessee. This fire sparked renewed interest in prescribed burns, serving as a catalyst for the creation of organizations dedicated to restoring that original practice.

Research shows that low-intensity fires, like those traditionally used by the Lumbee tribe and other tribes, can reduce wildfires by 64% in the year following a controlled burn. Using them, along with selective tree and shrub removal in another indigenous land management technique called thinning, reduces the intensity and density of wildfires and tree mortality.

Even after controlled burns were banned, residents of Sandhills continued to use them. Jesse Wimberly said: “My mother was born in 1920, and she talks about fire in the same way she talks about thunderstorms.” “It was just something that happened in the Southeast.” Nearly a decade since Wimberly launched Sandhills, his described Burn Association in North Carolina, or PBA, he has worked with about 700 landowners. “I do 70 burns a year, and that’s easy; this year I’ve done 75 since January, and I’ve had over 250 landowners holding a drip torch in their hands.”

Lorie Greene’s land east of Charlotte had been densely planted with longleaf pine for straw harvesting for 30 years. Instead, the land became unmanaged, providing plenty of fuel to ignite a fire. After hearing “fireside” talk from Wimberly at a meeting of local landowners not long ago, she committed to burning despite feeling “intimidated and truly afraid things would get out of control.” She and her husband became certified burners, and on an evening last year, they gathered with friends to ignite the pine trees.

She said: “I don’t think some of my neighbors were very happy.” One even reported the burn to the fire department, which was aware of the controlled burn early on. With the trees removed, their stands seem to have improved. She said: “They look good.” “I think they’re okay with it.”

Steed worked with Wimberly and Sandhills PBA before leading the Cultural Burn Association. The Lumbee tribe hosted its inaugural burn in December, lighting over 80 homes since then. She said fires are “the first step in bringing back longleaf pine.” Steed said the organization invited anyone interested to attend its cultural events and “watch us as we push the reset button.” “Then they went out and planted longleaf saplings and seeded local grass.”

The Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians works to regain control of fires in the western part of North Carolina to encourage the growth of white oak seedlings and river cane, a traditional weaving material. Tommy Cabe, the tribe’s forest resources specialist, said fire provides “everything from food to medicine, as well as improving the health and quality of the water catchments in the area”. It has also been a cultural touchstone for generations of his people.

Cabe, who holds a degree in forest management and works with the Forest Service to restore culturally significant plots on tribal lands, said: “There’s a mutual relationship.” “It’s not just about reducing fuel loads. Fire has a heartbeat. Fire is like a relative. The intent is to form a relationship.”

He said his tribe is uniquely prepared to re-establish that relationship because, like the Lumbee tribe, “we are still in our homelands”. “They didn’t succeed in pushing us out. So we are also known as homeland keepers. We own and retain a lot of stories and a lot of practices we haven’t been able to do. Now we’re starting to wake up. I think during this awakening, we can actually showcase some of our old practices.”

Studies have shown that the healthiest forests are located on tribal lands, and recognizing indigenous lands is the best way to protect and preserve nature. After a long history of forcibly removing indigenous peoples from their lands, the US government has recognized these truths, and while it has not yet returned their ancestors’ lands, it is taking steps to give them a larger role in managing federal lands.

Steed said: “We reach out to all the different organizations that are burning on the ground.” She said that wildfires do not recognize federal, private, or tribal land boundaries, and “the solution can’t either.” “We all need to bring what we can to the table and find common ground.”

However, finding early adopters among private landowners may be challenging. Unlike in the West, where the federal government manages and routinely burns millions of acres taken from tribal lands, most of the eastern forests are privately owned.

Researchers in Pennsylvania wrote last year: “Despite its widely known benefits, prescribed fire is rarely used on private lands in Pennsylvania.” “Of the 14,093 acres burned in 2019, only 340 acres were on private lands. This contradiction is striking considering that 70% of about 17 million acres of forests in Pennsylvania are privately owned.”

For this reason, educating people about the need for prescribed burns is essential.

Wimberly said: “It’s important that we understand why PBAs are so important to this story.” “If you’re going to light natural fires, you’re going to work with private sector landowners.” Wimberly began his own PBA program informally by inviting neighbors to burn their land; he said: “It’s sort of old-school.” “Then we go and burn their land.”

Fire management is not just about protecting communities from catastrophic wildfires: it contains countless additional benefits such as tick reduction and other pests, improving nutrient cycles, and enhancing grass growth. It may also be the only way to maintain the unique environment of an ecosystem that can provide a climate refuge, but faces increasing risks with global warming.

Many key tree species in the area, including red and white oaks, depend on fire to restrict growth and create space within the canopy for sunlight to reach seedlings. In areas dominated by trees like Table Mountain pine and pitch pine, fire is more crucial. Their serotinous cones, covered in sticky resin, cannot open their seeds and spread them without it.

“The vast majority of these systems have evolved with fire, and many with very frequent fires,” Donovan said. “So, when we eliminate these systems, we are removing a fundamental process.” “We can fundamentally see the system change. We see the filling of species that aren’t usually there, which can then outcompete fire-loving species and take their place. If we suppress fires long enough, we move into a new type of ecosystem.”

In summary, burning may be the only way to preserve ecosystems already threatened by low regeneration rates, non-native species, and severe weather. Donovan said: “If we can help bolster their resilience by reintroducing fire to the broader landscape, the hope is that they’ll be more resilient in facing some of these other changes.”

This story was originally published by Grist. Subscribe to Grist’s weekly newsletter here. Grist is an independent nonprofit media organization dedicated to telling stories of climate solutions and a just future. Learn more at Grist.org.