The housing crisis is putting a strain on wildland firefighters’ families, making it harder for them to remain in service and hinting at a looming crisis for first responders.
When Janelle Valentine was nursing her first child, her husband, Patrick, was fighting wildfires three hours from their house in Arizona. He lived in a travel trailer and returned home only three times in six months.
To stay together, the Valentines moved to New Mexico, lured by a job that promised Patrick housing. The promise never materialized. After six months living in a cramped travel trailer, the family was able to buy a house in remote Quemado — ironically, Spanish for “burned.” Population? 309.
Living in a remote rural area has its challenges. The closest grocery store is a 100-mile roundtrip drive that makes gas a major expense. The house is also infested with mice, which the family is addressing with a classic solution: “Too many cats.”
But the Valentines are among the lucky ones. Many other federal wildland firefighters live in vermin- and mold-infested crew houses or their cars, relying on portable toilets at campsites. In a survey conducted in 2024 by FiredUp, a nonprofit organization of firefighters’ spouses that Janelle started, nine out of 10 wildland firefighters reported being homeless themselves or knowing someone who was. The same survey found that two out of three firefighters might be forced to leave their jobs to earn enough to afford basic daily expenses, like food and housing.
This is an extreme example that reflects a growing national crisis: first responders are being priced out of the very communities they serve. When housing costs make it nearly impossible for them to stay, the impact on emergency response is dire, particularly in disaster-prone areas where a reliable workforce can spell the difference between life and death.
In New Mexico, a typical single-family home costs $304,371, according to February data from the real estate website Zillow — nearly 85 percent more than $164,721 from a decade ago. Zillow estimates the national average to be $358,056.
In the four major metropolitan areas in New Mexico, a household needs to earn, on average, $63,679 to $136,345 annually to spend less than 30 percent of its monthly income to purchase a new home, and $46,544 to $82,959 for a lease rental.
Even the lowest end of those estimates exceeds firefighters’ median annual wage nationwide of $57,120, based on Bureau of Labor Statistics data from May 2023. And wildland firefighters typically earn well under those national averages: They often start as seasonal employees at a minimum of $13 an hour, working only six months a year during fire season. Patrick Valentine has been fighting fires for more than a decade, leads a crew of 10, and earns $25 an hour.
“He could literally work at Target and make as much money,” Janelle said.
Long a challenge for Americans, the unaffordability of housing has worsened in the last decade because of low inventory. New Mexico has been “harder hit than other states” because less housing is being built there, hindered by local regulations, zoning restrictions, and permitting processes that make construction difficult and expensive, said Alex Horowitz, project director of the Housing Policy Initiative for nonprofit Pew Charitable Trusts.
Residents leaving high-opportunity, high-income areas for more affordable locations has also become widespread. Horowitz’s research found that New Mexico added only 2.9 percent to its housing stock in the last six years, “not nearly enough to keep up with what’s needed,” he said.
The housing crisis is even more profound for first responders who have to reside in or near the areas they serve.
Wildland firefighters need to live close to national forests, parks, and wilderness areas. This could mean living in areas so remote that they have few to no housing options, like the Valentines, or in expensive resort communities where costs are steeper — such as in Jackson Hole, Wyo., or Bozeman, Mont. Some districts offer crew and family housing for seasonal and permanent firefighters. But the costs for that housing are determined by average rents in the nearest municipality, which sometimes exceed actual market rates. A third of respondents to the FiredUp survey whose districts provided crew housing said it was in poor, very poor, or dilapidated condition.
The problem is affecting not only wildland firefighters. Firefighters in many urban areas — who combat fires inside buildings, conduct rescue operations, and provide emergency medical care — are facing similar challenges. So are other first responders nationwide: emergency medical technicians, paramedics, and law enforcement officers.
Police officers in some big cities have residency requirements. In New York City, they are required to live within the five boroughs or nearby suburban counties in New York State, even though there is more affordable housing and a comparable or shorter commute time in New Jersey. Samantha Sonnet, a retired officer in the New York Police Department’s Counterterrorism Bureau, said many of her colleagues had moved to Tennessee or Florida, where their money goes further.
Some cities have tried to implement housing programs for first responders, providing low-interest loans and mortgage assistance. But these initiatives are not usually large enough to address the issue, said Robert Silverman, a professor of urban planning and regional planning at the University at Buffalo.
“At the local level, there are some piecemeal programs and policies that are adopted,” Silverman said. “But they are not found everywhere, and local governments don’t have the resources or expertise to design these types of programs without support from state and federal government.”
“It gets back to addressing the barriers related to local land use policies and lowering the cost of housing,” he said. Wage growth has also not kept pace with the increase in housing prices, he added, aggravating these conditions.
For federal wildland firefighters, increasing their wages would require a job reclassification. Not only are many of them officially “forestry technicians,” a title that does not accurately depict their roles, but the Office of Personnel Management also excludes those whose work involves “fire control, suppression, and related duties incidental to forestry or range management work” from its “Fire Protection and Prevention Series.” This means wildland firefighters’ work is not officially recognized under the category of firefighting roles, despite its direct connection to fire management.
Climate change has also increased their workload and hazards. Erratic rainfall patterns and warmer temperatures have extended the fire season — in some states, year-round. Wildfires burn hotter and spread faster, making them more destructive and harder to control.
The low wages and relentless work schedules push some firefighters to leave the job, especially when they marry or start a family. Bobbie Scopa, who retired as an assistant fire director for the Forest Service in Oregon, said she had personally witnessed “dozens and dozens” of colleagues move on to new careers or places.
“We’re shooting ourselves in the foot any number of ways,” said Scopa, author of “Both Sides of the Fire Line,” a memoir about her 45 years in firefighting. “We’re not taking care of our people in general, and then, when we have a good, diverse employee who brings a lot to the game, they bring a lot to be a part of the crew, we run them off.”
This may soon be the case for the Valentines. Janelle, who holds degrees in childhood education and is currently in graduate school, could be working to help ease the financial strain. Instead, she stays home to look after the children because daycare is too far away and expensive. First responders cannot simply take time off for their kids when the other parent isn’t available.
“My husband and I literally fight all this time about his job,” said Janelle. “The hope is that once I’m finished with my master’s degree, I’ll be able to match his income. He’ll just find a different job, and I’ll be the main income-earner.”
When experienced first responders like Patrick leave the service, they take with them a decade’s worth of knowledge. Some relocate, benefiting their new departments and communities, while those who remain are promoted before they are ready because there is no one left above them to fill the ranks. Being a first responder used to be highly competitive and prestigious, but now recruiters are desperate for new candidates, who may be discouraged by the low wages and stressful demands of the job. And when no new recruits are hired and trained to fill the gaps, it is a net loss.
“The less people they have, the less resources they have to go direct and put out fires, essentially,” Janelle said. “We’re going to lose communities.”