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Fire on the Mountain
By Chester Moore

High in the mountains of northeastern British Columbia, the ground still carries the scent of smoke. Charcoal dust darkens the rock, evidence of a recent prescribed (controlled) burn set by biologists to revive the slope. The hillside looks quiet now, but renewal has already begun. Tiny green shoots press through the ash. A few feet away, a Stone’s sheep ewe and her lamb pick across the blackened ground, nibbling at the first new blades of grass.

Prescribed burn in British Columia

In May 2025, ~450 ha of Stone's sheep habitat were treated with prescribed fire northeastern British Columbia.

“Usually within a week of a burn, as soon as that new grass pokes through, sheep are there,” said wildlife biologist Alicia Woods of Ridgeline Wildlife Enhancement Inc. “I’ve personally even seen lambs standing in the black, eating the little green shoots.”

Stone's sheep skylined in British Columbia  Stone's sheep lamb and ewe on burned area in British Columbia

A band of Stone's sheep crossing a previously burned mountainside  Stone's sheep in dense brush in British Columbia

Photos of Stone's sheep captured as part of the monitoring component of British Columbia's prescribed burn project.

These are Stone’s sheep, thinhorns found only in British Columbia and a sliver of southern Yukon. Their survival depends on open, sun-warmed slopes where they can graze and quickly spot danger. When shrubs and young trees move uphill, they block that visibility. Prescribed fire gives it back. It clears encroaching brush, restores nutrients to the soil, and sparks new growth that draws sheep within days.

“It’s habitat rejuvenation you can literally watch happen,” Woods said.

With support from the Wild Sheep Foundation (WSF) and the Wild Sheep Society of British Columbia, more than 1,200 hectares (3,000 acres) of range have been restored through carefully planned burns, each one mapped, timed, and executed with precision in Wood’s study area.

Across wild sheep country, from bighorn canyons to thinhorn peaks, fire can be both a healer and a threat. Used carelessly, it scars; used with focus, it saves. Each burn is planned using forecasts, fuel moistures, relative humidity checks, wind speed and direction, and the steady judgment of individuals who are familiar with the land and trained in fire science.

Upper Prophet prescribed burn in British Columbia

Burn event in British Columbia's Upper Prophet in May 2025.

The Science of Prescribed Burns

Ask Corey Mason, a professional wildlife biologist, what makes prescribed burns so powerful, and he doesn’t hesitate. “Fire is without a doubt one of the most impactful and constructive wildlife conservation tools we have,” said Mason, Executive Vice President of Conservation for WSF.

Early in his career, he spent years with the Texas Parks & Wildlife Department, working firsthand with prescribed burns. “It’s about harnessing a natural process and reintroducing it into systems we’ve altered by suppressing fire for decades,” he said.

For much of the past century, fire was treated as an enemy. Every spark was doused. In its absence, brush thickened, grasses declined, and layers of dead fuel built up. When ignition finally came, whether by lightning, accident, or arson, the result was a catastrophic wildfire.

“Prescribed burning reduces those fuel loads before disaster hits,” Mason explained. “It’s proactive, not reactive. You’re preventing the next out-of-control wildfire catastrophe by re-creating the small, natural fires that used to happen regularly.”

A well-timed burn does more than reduce risk. It thins encroaching brush, rejuvenates native grasses, and recycles nutrients into the soil. The flames open slopes, reduce invasive plants, and create mosaics of habitat where wildlife can thrive. For bighorns, thinhorns, elk, deer, and even ground-nesting birds, this new growth means food and open sightlines.

“A healthy fire brings balance back to systems that have been out of sync for generations,” Mason said.

However, achieving that balance requires precision.

“Every decision from temperature and humidity to wind and fuel moisture determines whether you get a slow, creeping fire or one that burns very hot,” he said. “Outcomes are never totally predictable, but when it’s done right, the benefits can last for years.”

Each burn has its own prescription, a plan dictating the exact weather, wind, and moisture conditions under which ignition can occur. If the forecast shifts or the humidity drops too low, the fire is postponed.

Firefighters conducting a prescribed fire near Hyattville in the Medicine Lodge Wildlife Habitat Management Area.

Firefighters conducting a prescribed fire project in Wyoming's Medicine Lodge Wildlife Habitat Management Area. 

Fire for Bighorns

Across the West, prescribed fire has become a reliable tool for improving bighorn sheep habitat, from desert canyons to mountain basins. In the sage and rimrock country of southwest Idaho, decades of suppression allowed juniper, limber pine and dense sagebrush to take over slopes that were once open grasslands. As that cover thickened, bighorn sheep lost both forage and the ability to detect predators.

To address this issue, Idaho Fish and Game and the Bureau of Land Management collaborated in the Owyhee Mountains on small, low-intensity burns designed to thin brush and restore native grasses. The goal was simple: restore visibility, improve nutrition, and let the land function naturally again. Bighorn sheep and other grazers quickly returned to treated areas.

A similar approach has been used in Wyoming, where the Wyoming Wild Sheep Foundation supported the Torrey Rim prescribed burn for the Whiskey Mountain bighorn herd. Led by the U.S. Forest Service and Wyoming Game and Fish Department, the project is opening a key winter range and reducing conifer encroachment on critical slopes.

Together, these efforts show the practical side of what Mason calls “fire as stewardship”.

Prescribed burn near Darby Montana

Prescribed burn in western Montana.
Igniting Prescribed Fires
A prescribed fire is a careful, methodical process, and there are several ways crews set the flame.
On the ground, ignition teams move along ridgelines with drip torches, laying slow, deliberate lines of fire that creep uphill and clean the range. In larger, rougher country, helicopters or drones drop small ignition spheres that spark on impact, creating patterned burns that move like natural fire once did.
Crews may also light from ATVs or along roads to build “blacklines,” clearing a safe buffer before the primary ignition begins. In sensitive habitats, they often mix slow, backing fires that burn against the wind with head fires that move with it, controlling heat and direction.
Every burn follows a strict prescription or a plan built on temperature, wind, and humidity that tells crews exactly when and how to light. Done right, the result is healthier habitat less likely to suffer raging infernos during fire season and that benefits wildlife year-round.

Starting a prescribed burn from an ATV

Prescribed fire at Fishlake National Forest, Utah. (Courtesy Forest Service by John Smith)

Fire on Two Fronts

Bill Jex, Thinhorn Sheep Program Lead for WSF, said fire can have a different impact if not managed correctly in thinhorn range. “In the bighorn range, natural fire return intervals can be fifteen to fifty years. Fire keeps slopes open and forages young,” Jex said.

In the dry southern landscapes where bighorns live, periodic burns once maintained that rhythm.

“When we suppress fire, shrubs encroach, visibility declines, and the system gets out of balance.”

Alicia Wood monitoring post burnIn thinhorn country, the rhythm almost disappears.

“For thinhorns, your Stone’s and Dall’s sheep, you’re looking at natural fire return intervals of roughly one hundred fifty to three hundred years,” Jex said. “Fire just doesn’t play the same role there. The plant communities recover more slowly, and many species of thinhorn rely on them and don’t come back quickly. They feed on more than a hundred different plants. After a massive burn, you might get a quarter of those back. So, in some areas, fire can do more harm than good.”

Large wildfires in recent years have also changed the equation.

“When you get these broad-scale fires, you create a flush of forage that draws in elk and bison,” Jex said. “And where those go, wolves, bears, and cougars follow. You end up with more predators in sheep country.”

Yet Jex stresses that fire, when handled carefully, remains one of the most valuable tools available. “Prescribed fire has a place, even in thinhorn country,” he said. “If you do it on a small scale and in the right locations, like lambing areas or key winter ranges, you can really improve visibility and forage for Stone’s sheep.”

He points to the work of biologist Alicia Woods in the Muskwa region as an example, pictured at right monitoring an area posts burn.

“Those burns are small, low-intensity, and focused. They’re opening slopes just enough to bring back that early green grass without changing the alpine system. That’s the kind of fire that helps thinhorns,” Jex said.

Precision Conservation

Across the West, one thing is clear: when it’s done right, fire brings habitat back to life. For bighorns, prescribed burning opens slopes and renews the grasses they depend on through long winters. For thinhorns, the same is true, but fire must be used carefully, since the alpine range recovers more slowly, and too much heat can do lasting damage.

That balance of knowing where and when to use fire is central to WSF’s conservation work. From Idaho to Wyoming to northern British Columbia, the focus is on combining field experience with solid science to manage habitat that keeps wild sheep healthy and on the mountain.

WSF Grant-In-Aid supported projects like Landon Birch’s Finlay-Russell study show how that approach works. His team tracks Stone’s sheep movements, forage use, and habitat changes to identify where fire can improve range conditions and where it should be avoided.

Sampled vegetation in British Columbia's Finlay-Russel

Birch's project team sampled vegetation on core summer ranges of each collared sheep to assess forage quality and quantity. They identified several browsed plant species, including fireweed, lupine flowers, various willows, dwarf birch , columbine, alpine sagewort, and several sedges and grasses. 

By connecting vegetation data to ewe survival and nutrition, Birch’s research provides managers with better information about when fire will be beneficial and when it won’t. “Ewes are the population drivers,” Birch said. “If we can understand what’s happening with them, such as their movement, health, and survival, then we get the clearest picture of what’s affecting the herd.”

A prescribed burn using the latest cutting-edge data gleaned from their interior northern BC study is planned there for 2026.

In the end, whether it’s bighorn or thinhorn range, the goal is precision: fire used as a targeted management tool, guided by hard data and experience. Applied with focus, it restores habitat and helps secure the future of wild sheep herds throughout their range.


Contributing Author: Chester Moore is an award-winning wildlife journalist, wildlife photographer, and lifelong hunter from Texas. He operates the Higher Calling Wildlife® blog and podcast and contributes to many outdoors publications.