Across the United States, wildfire seasons have grown longer and more intense, sending vast plumes of smoke drifting far beyond the burn zones. While public health officials have long warned about the dangers of inhaling wildfire smoke, a smaller group of researchers is asking a different question: what happens to the animals that live in these smoke-filled landscapes? A new and rapidly growing field known as "smoke ecology" is now investigating how wildfire smoke disturbs wild places and the creatures that inhabit them—and whether anything can be done to prevent the worst damage.
One of the leading voices in this emerging discipline is Olivia Sanderfoot, a researcher at Cornell University. Her work focuses specifically on birds, which are particularly sensitive to changes in air quality. On a recent morning, Sanderfoot stood on a hillside in Amherst, in Western Massachusetts, a spot freckled with wildflowers and alive with sound. Within moments, she identified the distinct calls of an Eastern Wood-Pewee, a goldfinch, and a downy woodpecker. For Sanderfoot, the scene was nothing short of magical—fluffy fledglings darting through the brush, learning to navigate the world, while adult birds foraged among the blooms.
But that same hillside, like countless others across the continent, is increasingly vulnerable to a threat that arrives not as flame but as haze. Wildfire smoke can travel hundreds or even thousands of miles from its source, blanketing ecosystems that never see the fire itself. For birds and other wildlife, this airborne intrusion represents a unique and poorly understood hazard—one that Sanderfoot and her colleagues are only beginning to map.
The stakes are high because birds are not simply passive victims of smoke. They are highly mobile, often capable of fleeing danger, yet the timing and scale of smoke events can leave them with nowhere to go. During migration, for example, birds may encounter smoke plumes that disrupt their navigation, force them to land in unfamiliar or unsuitable habitat, or expose them to particulate matter that damages their respiratory systems. Even resident birds that stay put may suffer subtle but significant harms, from reduced foraging efficiency to impaired breeding success.
What makes smoke ecology so challenging is that it sits at the intersection of several scientific disciplines. Atmospheric scientists study how smoke plumes form and move. Ecologists track how animals respond. Toxicologists analyze what compounds in smoke are most harmful. Ornithologists like Sanderfoot contribute detailed observations of bird behavior and health. Together, these researchers are trying to build a picture of a phenomenon that is both ephemeral and enormous, often unfolding across multiple states and seasons at once.
The broader context is a changing climate that has made extreme wildfires more frequent and more severe. As fires grow in size and intensity, so does the volume of smoke they produce. For humans, the health risks are well documented: wildfire smoke has been linked to respiratory problems, cardiovascular issues, and other serious conditions, and in some cases it has proven more harmful than pollution from cars and industry. For animals, the picture is far less clear, but scientists suspect the effects could be equally profound.
Birds are a useful focal point because they are relatively easy to observe and because their populations are already under pressure from habitat loss, climate change, and other human-driven threats. If smoke is adding yet another stressor, the cumulative effect could push some species toward decline. Sanderfoot's research aims to understand not only how smoke affects individual birds but also which species are most vulnerable and under what conditions.
The field is also grappling with practical questions. Can anything be done to prevent the worst harms from wildfire smoke? For humans, the advice is often to stay indoors and use air filtration. For wildlife, there is no equivalent remedy. Animals cannot close their windows or put on masks. Some may instinctively seek shelter, but the scale of modern smoke events can overwhelm such coping mechanisms. Researchers are exploring whether certain habitats provide better refuge, whether timing of fires matters, and whether land management practices could reduce the exposure of sensitive species.
Another critical area of inquiry involves the long-term consequences of repeated smoke exposure. A single smoke event may be survivable, but what happens when birds face multiple episodes over a breeding season or across several years? Chronic exposure could lead to weakened immune systems, lower reproductive rates, and reduced survival, especially for young birds still developing. These are the kinds of questions that smoke ecology is only beginning to answer.
For Sanderfoot, the work is deeply personal as well as scientific. Standing on that Massachusetts hillside, listening to the layered chorus of birdsong, she is reminded of what is at stake. The Eastern Wood-Pewee, the goldfinch, the downy woodpecker—these are not abstract data points. They are neighbors, and their lives are being reshaped by forces far beyond their control.
The newness of smoke ecology means that much of the research is still in its early stages. Funding is limited, and the logistical challenges of studying unpredictable smoke events are considerable. Yet the urgency is undeniable. As wildfire seasons stretch longer and smoke becomes a recurring feature of life in more parts of the world, the need to understand its effects on wildlife grows more pressing with each passing year.
Ultimately, the scientists working in this field hope their findings will inform both conservation and policy. If smoke poses a significant threat to birds and other animals, then efforts to reduce wildfire risk, manage landscapes, and protect vulnerable species may need to account for it. The goal is not just to document harm but to find ways to prevent it—or at least to soften its impact.
In the meantime, researchers like Sanderfoot will keep listening. They will keep counting birds, recording calls, and tracking how smoke moves across the land. And they will keep asking the question that started it all: when wildfire smoke rolls in, what happens to the birds? The answer, they suspect, will matter not only for wildlife but for the health of entire ecosystems—and perhaps for our own understanding of what it means to live in a world increasingly shaped by fire and smoke.
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