Chaparral is NOT a plant, a herb sold in health food stores (they're actually selling ground up leaves from the creosote bush...a desert plant), or a 1960's television show...
Chaparral does NOT need fire to remain a healthy plant community and does NOT need fire to continue to exist (contrary to what you may read in some books)...
Chaparral has NOT become overgrown due to fire suppression...
And you can't find any chaparral in Texas!
Chaparral is Californias most extensive, native plant community. It is also the states most characteristic wilderness, dominating foothills and mountain slopes from the Rouge River Valley in southern Oregon to the San Pedro Martir in Baja California. Chaparral provides the deep green backdrop for Santa Barbara, the soft hues surrounding the gold country along the western slopes of the Sierra, and a valuable wilderness retreat for a rapidly growing San Diego. Take a drive into the hills surrounding nearly every southern California metropolitan area and you are immediately immersed in chaparral.
Properly defined, chaparral is a semi-arid, shrub dominated association of sclerophyllous, woody plants shaped by summer drought, mild, wet winters, and naturally recurring fires every 30 to 150 years plus. Sclerophyllous is a term coined by German botanist, Andreas F. W. Schimper in 1898. Referring to mediterranean climatic regions in his classic 844 page Plant Geography Upon a Physiological Basis he said, The mild temperate districts with winter-rain and prolonged summer-drought are the home of evergreen xerophilous (dry-loving) woody plants, which, owing to the stiffness of their thick, leathery leaves, may be termed sclerophyllous woody plants.
Meaning hard-leaved in Greek, sclerophyllous leaves are advantageous in a semi-arid climate because they reduce evaporation thorough a variety of traits including waxy coatings, thicker cell layers, and recessed stomata, the pores in leaves permitting evaporation and the exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide. Chaparral is primarily a California phenomenon, although a type of mock chaparral exists in parts of Arizona, the central Rocky Mountains and Northeastern Mexico.
There have been several efforts to classify chaparral plant communities, with one of the most recent identifying over 50 different variations or series (Sawyer and Keeler-Wolf 1995). Although these categories are helpful when doing detailed work, they are overwhelming to the average citizen trying to grasp the overall picture. Therefore, I have consolidated them into seven basic types found in California, based on the most dominant plant species present (photo examples can be found on our WHERE TO FIND CHAPARRAL page):
Red Shanks
Ceanothus
Chamise
Mixed (xeric, mesic, maritime, serpentine)
Manzanita (including the endemic Ione type)
Scrub Oak
Montane (including bush chinquapin type)
Where no particular species dominates the scene, meaning at least 60% of the cover is composed of a single species, the default classification mixed chaparral applies. Although the largest and most pristine stands of chaparral occur in southern California between 500 to 4,500 feet in elevation, smaller patches exist along the coast such as those on Carmel Mountain in San Diego County. Stands of red shanks chaparral can found at 7,000 feet in the San Jacinto Mountains in Riverside County. However, if there is one defining characteristic of nearly all chaparral, it is the presence of chamise (Adenostoma fasciculatum), the ecosystems most pervasive shrub.
For a short film clip of the "Secrets of the Chaparral" video please go to our Membership Page.
More details on types:
A quick word about terminology. The words biome, ecosystem, habitat and plant community are often used interchangeably in reference to natural communities. Is the chaparral a biome, habitat, or...? It really depends on your reference point.
Sometimes reference is made to the "chaparral biome" which includes ALL five Mediterranean-type climate shrubland regions in the world (California, central Chile, the Mediterranean Basin, South Africa, southwestern Australia). Since the word chaparral specifically applies to California shrublands, it is probably better to use some other term such as "Mediterranean-type biome" or "sclerophyllous biome". As an ecosystem, you are including not only the living components, but also the non-living such as sunlight, nutrient cycles, etc. So when referring to the chaparral ecosystem, you are including the total picture not just the living things present.
A plant community is restricted to a certain geographical area with a common assemblage of plant species. So a manzanita chaparral plant community would be different from one dominated by chamise. Finally, habitat refers to the place an animal lives, such as the habitat for a wrentit is the chaparral.
Why is chaparral important? Because chaparral defines California as a place. It is our native landscape. It provides essential protection against erosion on our hillsides, allows the recharge of underground water supplies and offers unique opportunities to remain connected to nature on a local level. As technology and city-centered lifestyles continue to create greater distances between us and the natural world, chaparral provides a way for Californians to remember the value of wildness.
Some consider chaparral trashy and unable to sustain a healthy ecosystem after 30 years or so of growth. They feel we need to burn chaparral on a regular basis. These are value statements, not scientifically verifiable facts. They are harmful ideas because they promote actions that will eliminate the last remaining stands of old growth chaparral and can lead to the conversion of younger chaparral to weedy grasslands by increasing fire frequency.
There is no question chaparral provides the perfect fuel for wildfires. It's hell to cut a line through; whitethorn ceanothus jabs our skin, the shrubs continually resprout, and the deadwood we push aside provides excellent kindling. Understandably, some of us view chaparral as a fire hazard and would prefer to see the stuff cleared down to mineral soil when it gets anywhere near structures.
But our responsibilities are rapidly changing. Because of population growth and increased development; changes are altering the outdoors in which we love to work. Due to increased fire frequency, many of the wildlands where we have fought fires in the past have become overwhelmed by weeds and, in some cases, have been completely replaced by them. That has not only increased the risk of working in those areas due to fine fuel loading, but is eliminating many of the natural environments we used to take for granted. Fires are increasing throughout the West and burning where they never have before, such as in the Mojave desert.
We need to recognize increased fire frequency and weed growth as serious threats to the natural places we enjoy and begin to see ourselves in a different light; as highly skilled resource managers trying not only to protect life and property, but also attempting to halt the wholesale elimination of native landscapes.
Ceanothus chaparral in the Trabuco Ranger District of the Cleveland National (Chaparral) Forest
Who speaks for the chaparral?
By Richard W. Halsey
I live in California's wildland-urban interface, the fuzzy boundary between civilization and the natural landscape. I awaken each morning to a view of old-growth chaparral coating a nearby mountain like a carpet of green velvet.
The recent heavy rains have inspired an explosion of manzanita and ceanothus flowers to powder the hillsides. The first sound I usually hear is that of the wrentit, a secretive, little bird with a descending whistle that mimics the beat of a bouncing Ping-Pong ball.
This is my home, not in terms of ownership, but by providing a sense of place. Chaparral is distinctly Californian. It is our own native wilderness and defines who we are. Both the landscape and our lifestyle have been shaped by the same natural forces, drought and fire.
Yet many of us have unconsciously disconnected from the land in which we live because our hectic lives leave little room for such things. Hours on the freeway and trying to deal with everyday demands of civilization buries our innate love of nature with mountains of unfinished tasks, increased emotional tension and a sense of isolation.
Consequently, chaparral, our region's most characteristic wilderness, is viewed as something unknown, unimportant, and because of the 2003 fires, dangerous and in need of removal. The pejorative description of chaparral used in recent news stories reflects this perspective.
According to some reports, despite the large 2003 fires, southern California "still has tens of thousands of acres of brush and dead trees that could fuel wildfires." Funding from the so-called Healthy Forests Restoration Act would go to communities threatened by wildfires, "including chaparral-choked areas." Old-growth chaparral stands are referred to as "decadent" or "scrub-invested savannas."
It is time for all of us to get out of our cars, throw a rock through the television set, get outside and look around. Our landscape is being misrepresented and condemned. We need to come to its defense. This is not about hugging trees; it is about planning for the future.
Forget politics for the moment, and how you may view preservation efforts by environmental groups. Ask yourself, how much natural, California heritage do we want remaining 100 years from now? Is the wildfire problem really about native shrubs or poor land planning? Do we really want to grind up and remove tens of thousands of acres of native landscape or do we need to help citizens understand they have a personal responsibility in maintaining a low-fire risk environment around their homes?
To answer these questions it is important to understand the truth about chaparral. Old-growth chaparral in excess of 100 years old is not trash. It remains a productive, dynamic ecosystem. There is no scientific evidence to support the notion that native shrublands have become "decadent" or unhealthy due to overgrowth. In fact, seeds of many chaparral plants actually require 30 years or more worth of accumulated leaf litter before they will successfully germinate. Yes, many chaparral plant species require some fire cue for germination, but their seeds will survive in the soil until the next blaze, be it 30 years or 100 years from now.
The idea that "chaparral-choked areas" are responsible for causing large fires is related to one of the most repeated misconceptions regarding the system: past fire suppression efforts have allowed an "unnatural" accumulation of brush. This belief is based on the misapplication of studies relating to dry ponderosa pine forests that have nothing to do with California shrublands.
There are seven major types of chaparral in California, each with its own growth cycle. The accumulation of dead and living plant material varies significantly between each type. Mixed chaparral on north-facing slopes can accumulate more plant mass in 10 years than a stand of chamise chaparral will on drier, south-facing slopes in 80 years. Shrubs grow. It is a natural process. Those that die are replaced by others.
Fire suppression is not responsible for this pattern and fires have not been excluded in the chaparral of California. In fact, not only has the amount of acreage burned here per decade remained relatively unchanged for the past century, but fire frequency has been increasing in lockstep with population growth. This process is threatening to convert many of our native shrublands to desolate patches of non-native weeds.
Although sponsors of the Healthy Forests Restoration Act promoted the notion that dying trees fueled the 2003 fires, this was not the case. Of the total acreage burned in the 2003 firestorms, only 5 percent involved forested land. With 88 percent of the Cleveland National Forest in southern California composed of chaparral and related shrublands, the preserve is obviously misnamed.
There is no question chaparral is extremely flammable, especially during dry weather conditions. It is a byproduct of the Mediterranean-type climate we enjoy so much. However, the wildfire discussion needs to be refocused. We must begin to embrace the fact that we are part of nature. Our homes burn because we've allowed ourselves to forget our connection to the natural world. The chaparral is seen as the enemy when in fact it remains our last chance to reclaim California's wildness and preserve the quality of life made possible by the region's natural, open spaces.
When we don't know someone, it is easier to create prejudicial caricatures. Dismissive generalities are easy. However, once we actually meet them, know their name and spend some time understanding their place in the world, it becomes impossible to ignore them as individuals. The same applies to learning about places we are unfamiliar, places like the chaparral.
Take some time this spring, which begins in California while much of the rest of the country is snowbound, and follow a trail into our local foothills. Learn some of the names and habits of our region's wild citizens. Take a deep breath and smell the sage-flavored air. Sit quietly and listen. Better yet, bring along someone under 12 years old. Little people have an uncanny ability to help us remember what is really important.
Welcome home.
Modified from an article in the San Diego Union Tribune, January 14, 2005
The Los Padres National (Elfin) Forest above Santa Barbara, California
Chaparral Mythology
Chaparral is misunderstood primarily because most people do not recognize it. What happens in forests is frequently misapplied to chaparral. Since most of southern California National Forests are dominated by chaparral, not timber (Cleveland National Forest is 88% chaparral), it's important southern Californians be aware of the misconceptions about the state's dominant plant community. Proper understanding is especially crucial now because there is a vocal minority promoting poor land management practices motivated by economic self interest. Some of these folks claim the the so-called "wildfire crisis" in California can only be solved by grinding or burning up backcountry chaparral to reduce the amount of vegetation available to burn.
Myth #1: Chaparral needs fire to "renew" and clean out "built-up" brush.
As an ecosystem, chaparral does not "need" fire to remain healthy. Old-growth chaparral continues to be productive, growing fresh, new growth in its upper canopy every year. In fact, some chaparral plants require the leaf litter and shade provided by older chaparral stands for their seeds to germinate successfully. Instead of becoming "trashy" or unproductive, as some have claimed, thirty-year-old chaparral is actually just beginning a new cycle of life. To to find out what old-growth chaparral is really like and a to download a recent paper discussing how old-growth chaparral recovers from wildfire, please go to our Old-Growth page.
Myth #2: Past fire suppression has built up "unnatural" levels of fuel (vegetation) in the chaparral.
The California Statewide Fire History Database clearly shows acreage burned per decade over the past 100 years in southern California has remained relatively constant, despite truly heroic attempts by firefighters. Unlike some forests, fire has NOT been excluded from the chaparral. In fact, fire frequency in southern California has been increasing dramatically over the past century.
The natural fire return interval for chaparral was probably anywhere from 30 to 200+ years. No one really knows. Careful, objective statistical analyses by scientists at UC Berkeley and the US Geological Survey has found no significant change in the probability of chaparral burning as it ages except a slight reduction in risk in stands less than about 5 years old. Slight tendencies don’t provide much solace in the face of our inevitable Santa Ana firestorms, which sweep through all vegetation age classes. The notion that a mosaic (patches of different aged chaparral) will prevent large firestorms is not supported by data collected over the past ten years.
Each bar represents the area burned per decade (1900 to 1990) with a 10-year running annual average line during the 20th century for nine California counties. Top row: Monterey, San Luis Obispo, Santa Barbara. Middle row: Ventura, Los Angeles, San Bernardino. Bottom row: Riverside, Orange, San Diego. Horizontal axis in years, vertical axis area burned in hectares. 1 hectares equals 2.47 acres. Adapted from Keeley and Fotheringham 2003 as found in Fire, Chaparral, and Survival in Southern California (Halsey 2005).
Myth #3: Large chaparral wildfires are unusual and preventable.
Large chaparral fires have occurred prior to 2003 and will continue to occur. Southern California has one of the worst fire-prone climates on earth. For example, an estimated total of 800,000 acres burned late September, 1889 in two different fires. One in Orange County, the other in San Diego County (the 2003 Cedar fire burned a little over 273,000 acres). They weren't big deals then because no one really lived in the backcountry. Now, with so many homes up against the wilderness, fires can become catastrophic.
"Santa Ana. Sept. 25. - The fire which has been burning for the past two days still continues in the canyons. The burned and burning district now extends over one hundred miles from north to south, and is 10 to 18 miles in width. Over $100,000 worth of pasturage and timber has been destroyed." Los Angeles Times, September 27, 1889.
The best ways to prevent loss of life and property are to retrofit exisiting structures to make them more fire safe, plan communities so they are not built in high fire risk areas, and maintain proper vegetation management directly around structures.
To examine the latest research on how to prepare for wildfire from the community outward instead of from the wildland inward, see the Fire Information Engine at the Center for Fire Research and Outreach at: . Click on "To see a sample..." to see the process work.
Myth #4: Chaparral is adapted to fire:
It is best to think of each type of chaparral as adapted to a particular fire regime rather than just "fire." This is an important distinction because when people say chaparral is adapted to or needs fire there is no reference to all the important variables involved such as fire frequency, season of burn, intensity (level of heat), or severity (amount of living material consumed). Too much fire (increased frequency) will destroy a chaparral system. Fire during the cool, moist season can seriously damage the seed bank. See our Fire and Nature page for more details.
Myth #5: Chemical inhibition in the chaparral (allelopathy):
Chemical inhibition, or allelopathy, suggests plants are capable of suppressing the growth or germination of neighboring competitors. Although an intriguing idea, actual chemical inhibition in nature has been notoriously difficult to prove. “To my knowledge,” wrote plant ecologist J. H. Connell in 1990, “no published field study has demonstrated direct interference by allelopathy in soil…while excluding the possibility of other indirect interactions with resources, natural enemies, or other competitors.”
This lack of scientific verification, however, has not prevented the concept from being presented as a well-understood phenomenon in science texts as well as along chaparral nature trails. Dramatic explanations are seductive, especially if they provide interesting answers to intriguing problems. If repeated often enough, they become dogma and influence thinking for decades.
C.H. Muller, an accomplished botanist from the University of California, Santa Barbara, suggested allelopathy explained the lack of plant growth under the canopy of mature chaparral stands in southern California (Muller, et.al. 1968). According to his hypothesis, chemicals washed off the leaves of chamise and manzanita shrubs, suppressing the germination of seeds in the ground below. When the chaparral burned, flames denatured the toxic substances releasing the seeds from inhibition. This resulted in the remarkable number of shrub seedlings and wildflowers emerging in post-fire environments. The problem with this explanation is that the soil chemicals suspected of suppressing growth actually increase after a fire. In addition, the dormancy found in chaparral plant seeds is innate, not caused by some outside, environmental factor. The seeds are dormant before they hit the ground. Chaparral seed dormancy evolved because poor growing conditions under mature shrubs selected for seed traits postponing germination until those conditions improved. Under xeric conditions, germinating under a shady canopy with hungry herbivores scurrying around is not a recipe for success. Fire quickly removes those problems and sets the stage for chaparral renewal. Post-fire seedling response in chaparral can be easily explained without invoking the notion of chemical inhibition.
Muller also suggested allelopathy was the cause for bare zones often found around purple sage (Salvia leucophylla) and California sagebrush (Artemisia californica) (Muller, et.al. 1964) in the coastal sage scrub community. Later investigations revealed these bare zones are primarily the work of herbivores (Bartholomew 1971), not volatile substances from the plants themselves. To little furry rodents like the California mouse (Peromyscus californicus) and the pacific kangaroo rat (Dipodomys agilis) the world is a dangerous place. Cover is critical to their survival since they are on the dietary preference list of local carnivores like coyotes, snakes, and hawks. Consequently, they have a tendency to remain under shrubbery with only occasional, quick forays into surrounding grassland to nibble on available seeds or new growth. They will stray only as far as they can quickly leap back to safety. Bare zones, therefore, can be viewed as “calculated-risk terrain” where rodents have a fair chance of grabbing food without getting caught. Bare zones are bare because herbivores exploit the space to grab available snacks.
Do volatile compounds in certain coastal sage scrub plants ever play a role significant enough to make a difference in naturally occurring vegetation patterns? “As far as I know, the question of why grasses grow within bare zones during wet years, despite animal activity, has never been adequately addressed,” Bob Muller said when reflecting upon his father’s work. “Why don’t animals always eliminate seedlings, regardless of the level of moisture?
The explanation favored by C.H. Muller provides a reasonable hypothesis for this phenomenon; heavy rains leach toxins from the soil, removing inhibitory chemicals and permitting seedling success. However, without further investigation the question remains unresolved.
“The critical issue,” John Harper (1975), a prominent plant population biologist from England explained, “is to determine whether such toxicity plays a role in the interactions between plants in the field. Demonstrating this has proved extraordinarily difficult – it is logically impossible to prove that it doesn’t happen and perhaps nearly impossible to prove absolutely that it does.”
-From "Fire, Chaparral, and Survival in Southern California." See the "Book Excerpts" page for more details.
The full paper dealing with allelopathy has been published in the Journal of the Torrey Botanical Society 131(4), 2004, pp. 343-367, "In search of allelopathy: an eco-historical view of the investigation of chemical inhibition in California coastal sage scrub and chamise chaparral." If you are interested in obtaining a copy, please request one by writing to us.
