Across California, over 800 animals have been saved from the wildfires. Shelters filled with dogs and cats, barns crammed with horses and donkeys, and quiet corners housing turtles and birds. Their faces were marked by soot and fear. Many carried burns, wounds, and the heavy weight of survival.
The rescue teams waded into smoldering fields, broke down fences, and coaxed frightened creatures from danger. They carried pups in their arms, herded panicked horses, and loaded trembling goats onto trucks.
Some animals found safety in makeshift shelters: high school gyms turned into stalls and pens. Others were driven to rescue centers, their cries muffled by the hum of engines. Veterinarian worked without sleep, patching up animals as flames raged in the hills.
The numbers don’t tell the whole story. 800 lives saved. 800 futures reclaimed from the fire’s edge. It’s not enough, but it’s something. Out there, beneath the smoke and haze, they’re still searching. They won’t stop. Not yet.
Fire crews battle the Kenneth Fire in the West Hills section of Los Angeles, Thursday, Jan. 9, 2025. (AP Photo/Ethan Swope)
Almonds drink like addicts, even when they’re on fire.
Every year, California allocates approximately 80% of its water to agriculture, and almonds are some of the thirstiest crops. It takes a staggering 1.1 gallons of water to grow a single almond. Pistachios aren’t far behind, gulping nearly 3.6 gallons of water per ounce.
Wildfires aren’t just fueled by dry brush. They’re fed by water shortages. Every gallon funneled into almond orchards could instead hydrate thirsty soil, dampen fire-prone areas, or sustain dwindling reservoirs.
When Lake Oroville dropped to historic lows in 2021, some of the state’s largest nut farms continued receiving water. Almond orchards weren’t rationed, but people were.
California grows about 80% of the world’s almonds. This isn’t just a local problem; it’s global. Almond exports rake in billions annually, but at what cost? While farmers ship nuts overseas, rivers dry up, wells fail, and forests burn.
California’s Central Valley, where most of these nuts are grown, isn’t naturally suited for farming. It’s an arid region transformed into fertile land by engineering miracles and unrelenting irrigation. Yet here we are, diverting precious water to support a crop that doesn’t belong.
Consider this: almond production uses more water annually than all the residents of Los Angeles and San Francisco combined.
For pistachios, it’s close. Nuts, in total, consume about 10% of California’s agricultural water. That’s enough to supply 75 million people with drinking water for a year.
Not all farming is created equal. California also produces tomatoes, lettuce, and strawberries, but these use significantly less water.
Meanwhile, almonds contribute just 0.6% to the state’s GDP. It’s not about feeding people; it’s about profit.
The wildfires of 2023 consumed more than 450,000 acres, destroying homes and wildlife habitats. Rebuilding those communities will require water—lots of it. Yet California remains stuck in a paradox: prioritizing water-intensive crops over public safety and environmental health.
The wildfires of this year will look, well, nuts in comparison.
Nuts are a luxury, not a necessity. There’s no world where almonds take priority over drinking water, firefighting resources, or ecological preservation.
California’s water crisis demands a rethink of agriculture. We can’t pour 4,000 gallons of water into a pound of pistachios while fires rage and reservoirs run dry.
Water is life, not profit. It’s time to decide which we value more.
Cali jasmine does not beg, nor bow— its roots are veins threading through scorched silence, seeking nothing but the pull of water whispering below.
Ash drapes its shoulders like memory, and still, it flowers. Petals tilt to the absent sun, white as a breath held too long, fragile as the edges of a dream that refuses to be forgotten.
This is not defiance, but a quiet insistence— a life that leans into endings, and grows anyway.
