“I said to Mich, ‘The house is gone,’” recalled Forest, 45. That was the moment they knew they could no longer stay in a tinder-dry Western state, and when they became climate migrants.

“The house is gone,” the landlord said, and forwarded a photo taken by a neighbor showing that their home had burned to the ground. They picked her up and checked into a hotel, where Forest received a call from their landlord. Then came September 8, 2020, when Forest Brazil stepped out of their rented house and had to cover his face because of smoke, dust, and debris from a fire - about three miles away - that was being water-bombed by fire-fighting planes and had provoked a panicky, high-speed evacuation on a nearby interstate.Īfter five years of living with fire season, it was clear to him that this was no ordinary wildfire, so he grabbed his children, gathered a few important documents from the house, and called his wife at work to say they were getting out. At first, the Ashland area of southern Oregon seemed like a great place for Mich and Forest Brazil to raise their kids: It had natural beauty, plenty of open space, and a family-friendly atmosphere.īut after they moved there from the San Francisco Bay area in 2015, high summer temperatures, water shortages, and wildfire smoke became regular features of their lives, forcing them to wear face masks well before the Covid-19 pandemic, and leading them to question whether the area was the right place for them.

American global warming cities