Following the flooding rains of March and April, everything was lush and green on O'ahu. It's very pretty to see the dry mountains turn emerald. But now at the height of summer, with all that weedy alien grass turned to dry brush, we are toast. Fires have already blazed on the Leeward coast.

I once attended a one-week fire-safety training session at Schofield Barracks. The military's expert from the Mainland looked at the bright green, 6-feet-tall guinea grass. He didn't think the fire that would be set for us to extinguish would be a problem. But within 10 minutes, the intentional fire was so out of control that the expert had to call on-base firefighters to put it out. Coming from the Mainland, he had no idea how rapidly what looks like lush grass burns. And that was in a controlled setting.

Aside from the potential damage to people and their homes, fires have long-lasting environmental effects. They destroy rare native Hawaiian plants. The organic matter in the soil burns. The entire ecosystem will never be the same. It's altered forever.

Let's stop this crime before it ignites. Here is an imaginary dialogue we should all consider:

Auntie Akamai: Yes burning dry grass and brush is a crime.

Joe Lolo: Why? What is up there of value?

Auntie Akamai: Native Hawaiian plants and dry-land forests. The last rare na'u or native gardenia probably burned up in the last brush blaze — the Nanakuli fires of 2005.

Joe Lolo: The last tree. What value do we place on that?

Auntie Akamai: Priceless.

Joe Lolo: But plant lovers have "saved" this plant. We can grow it in our gardens. We like it, we love it. Can we ever replace the old mama tree that burned up?

Auntie Akamai: I don't think so, Joe Lolo.

Was the thrill of setting a fire, popping illegal fireworks or tossing a cigarette out a car window worth losing such a treasure?

And what about the other treasures up there? Small plants and ferns, insects and birds, the soil micro-organisms that help the planet breathe?

How about damage to our Hawaiian watershed? The green native Hawaiian plants give us all fresh, pure water to drink. The water we drink today, on average, fell on the green velvet mountains 25 years ago. Burned forests do not give back water, except as muddy, charcoal-filled runoff that will smother and kill coral reefs and the fishes, shellfishes and limu that live there.

In an intact Hawaiian forest, every layer is filled — with ferns, lichens, mosses, keiki 'ohi'a lehua and hapu'u, and lots more obscure plants, some of which don't even have Hawaiian names that we know of today.

What of the kahuli, the singing land snails of O'ahu? A few live on in the Wai'anae mountains. These snails groom the limu and lichens off the leaves of native Hawaiian trees such as 'ohi'a lehua and mehame. Their shells are like dripping green jewels, and collectors have almost wiped them out. But worse, how can a limu-loving land snail escape a fire?

Some of these plants and animals are protected by federal law and recognized as federally-listed endangered species.

The native Hawaiian gardenia, na'u, is one such species. So are the kahuli. The voiceless, defenseless victims in Hawai'i should be protected in our democracy. That is one of our best American values.

We "declare wars" on drugs, on terrorists, on hurricanes ... let's go after the fire bugs.

Heidi Bornhorst is a sustainable-landscape consultant.