Colorado isn’t just burning—it’s reckoning. In the last two decades, wildfires have evolved from seasonal nuisances into existential threats, reshaping landscapes, communities, and policy debates. But the deeper story isn’t just about acres lost or homes destroyed. It’s about how we got here—and why we keep returning to the flames.

A Land Meant to Burn—Until We Forgot How

Fire has always been part of Colorado’s ecological rhythm. Ponderosa pine forests once welcomed low-intensity burns every few decades, clearing underbrush and renewing life. Indigenous communities understood this, using fire as a tool for stewardship.

But by the mid-20th century, fire suppression became doctrine. Smokey Bear’s message—“Only you can prevent forest fires”—ushered in an era of extinguishing every flame. The result? A buildup of fuel that turned forests into tinderboxes.

“Suppressing every fire for decades created a backlog of combustible material,” explains Dr. Jennifer Balch, director of CU Boulder’s Earth Lab. “Now, when fires ignite, they burn hotter, faster, and more destructively.”

The Mega-Fire Era: When the Numbers Stopped Making Sense

In 2002, the Hayman Fire burned 137,760 acres—then the largest in state history. By 2020, three separate fires eclipsed it, culminating in the Cameron Peak Fire’s staggering 208,913 acres. And while the 2021 Marshall Fire burned fewer than 6,000 acres, it destroyed over 1,000 homes in suburban Boulder County—proof that proximity, not size, defines devastation.

“These fires are no longer confined to remote wilderness,” says Mike Morgan, director of Colorado’s Division of Fire Prevention and Control. “They’re happening where people live—and they’re happening faster than we can respond.”

Climate: The Invisible Accelerant

Colorado’s climate has shifted. Average temperatures have risen more than 2°F since 1980. Snowpack melts earlier. Droughts linger longer. These changes dry out vegetation and extend fire seasons by weeks—sometimes months.

“Warmer air holds more moisture, which means drier fuels and more explosive fire behavior,” notes Dr. Daniel Swain, climate scientist at UCLA and NCAR. The East Troublesome Fire’s leap across the Continental Divide in October 2020—once thought meteorologically impossible—was a wake-up call.

Urban Growth: Building Into the Flames

Colorado’s population has surged by over a million since 2000. Many newcomers settle in the wildland-urban interface (WUI)—where development meets wilderness. These homes are harder to defend, more likely to ignite, and more expensive to rebuild.

“We’re building in places that are designed by nature to burn,” says Molly Mowery, CEO of Wildfire Planning International. “And we’re doing it faster than we’re adapting our policies.”

The Marshall Fire wasn’t a fluke—it was a forecast.

Policy: From Suppression to Hesitant Resilience

Colorado is trying to pivot. The Fire Commission and Wildfire Resiliency Code Board promote mitigation, land-use planning, and community education. Prescribed burns and forest thinning are gaining traction.

But progress is slow. Funding is inconsistent. Public resistance to controlled burns remains high. And local governments often resist stricter building codes, fearing economic backlash.

“There’s a disconnect between what we know and what we’re willing to do,” says Morgan. “We need to treat fire like the inevitability it is—not the anomaly we wish it were.”

Human Behavior: Memory, Risk, and Repetition

After a fire, communities often rebuild in the same vulnerable zones. Risk fades. Nostalgia returns. The cycle continues.

“There’s a deep emotional attachment to place,” says Balch. “People don’t want to leave the mountains, even if it means living with fire.”

This tension—between identity and safety, between memory and mitigation—is at the heart of Colorado’s fire reckoning.

Reckoning Means Responsibility

Colorado’s future will burn brighter or darker depending on our choices. We must:

• Stop building in fire-prone zones, no matter how scenic or profitable.
• Fund and enforce mitigation, not just recommend it.
• Treat fire as ecological reality, not political inconvenience.
• Hold policymakers accountable—not just for what they say, but for what they fail to do.

The question isn’t whether Colorado will burn again. It’s whether we’ll keep rebuilding the same mistakes—or finally learn to live with fire, without getting consumed by it.

©️ The Rocky Mountain Dispatch LLC. 2025