I have now tried the AskNature Chat! This blog post is inspired by the results. This is the first prompt that I tested, and the ideas evolved over a couple of days.
About AskNature Chat
“Guided by the overarching ethical approach of biomimicry –emulating the way life creates conditions conducive to life –it helps not only to inform readers but to reconnect them to the rest of nature.
This ethical and perspectival shaping is the real heart of AskNature Chat. The internet today –and AI specifically – already has access to a vast trove of biological knowledge. The real challenge is to present that knowledge accessibly and with context, and that is what our tool is being designed to provide.”
After an initial question, I decided to create a story and a resource suitable for children aged 9 to 12.
My initial prompt was
How does nature deal with fire?
Here is part of the response:
“Biological Strategy: Nature’s Fire Adaptations — Renewal Through Flame
Summary
Across ecosystems, species such as lodgepole pine (Pinus contorta), longleaf pine (Pinus palustris), and the fire-following giant sequoia (Sequoiadendron giganteum) have evolved to not only survive but thrive with fire. They use heat to release seeds, clear competitors, and recycle nutrients—transforming destruction into renewal.
The Strategy
Different species have developed a range of ingenious adaptations to live with fire:
- Serotiny in Pines: Lodgepole pine and jack pine possess serotinous cones—tightly sealed with resin that only melts in high heat. Fire releases their seeds just as ash enriches the soil, ensuring seedlings face little competition and plenty of sunlight.
- Thick Bark and Deep Roots: Giant sequoias and ponderosa pines bear bark several inches thick, insulating vital tissues from heat. Longleaf pines start life in a “grass stage,” keeping their buds close to the ground and protected by dense needles until they grow tall enough to rise above low fires.
- Fire-Stimulated Germination: In Mediterranean-type ecosystems, plants like manzanita and ceanothus have seeds that germinate only after exposure to smoke chemicals or heat. Fire thus serves as a trigger for regeneration, not a catastrophe.
- Ecosystem Recycling: Fire clears underbrush, returns minerals to the soil, and opens the canopy for sunlight. Many grasses and forbs resprout quickly, supporting grazers and pollinators. Ash layers even alter soil chemistry, enhancing nutrient availability.
In short, fire acts as a sculptor—removing the old, rejuvenating the land, and selecting species suited to this fiery dance.
The Potential
For human systems, nature’s fire wisdom offers lessons in resilience, regeneration, and controlled release:
- Urban and Forest Planning: Mimicking the mosaic patterns of natural burns can reduce catastrophic wildfires while promoting biodiversity. Controlled burns or “cultural fire” practices—long used by Indigenous peoples—mirror these natural cycles safely and effectively.
- Regenerative Design: Like serotinous cones that release potential through heat, organisations can build systems that adapt and grow stronger under stress, rather than collapsing.
- Material Science and Architecture: Fire-resistant yet breathable structures — like thick pine bark—could inspire new coatings or composites that insulate without smothering.
In embracing fire as a natural force of renewal rather than destruction, humans can rediscover how ecosystems maintain balance—through cycles of disturbance and recovery.”
I then prompted that I wanted to explore Australian animals in more detail. After a couple of prompts, I had a draft for a blog post about how animals and plants in the Australian Bush deal with fire. I turned this into a short story that could be used as an introduction to a Biomimicry Unit about Ways that Nature deals with Fire. Creating a story based on scientific knowledge and current research would have taken a considerable amount of time, so I was interested in testing this idea and exploring how useful it could be as a resource for children. The story is not edited, and I do think it is too long. Anyway, it does show the potential of creating a biomimicry story.
“The Day the Bush Woke Up“
A Story of Fire and Renewal in the Australian Bushland
By Asa Jomard
Chapter 1: Before the Fire
In a sunlit corner of Australian bushland, a young grass tree named Spike stood tall among the eucalyptus giants. Her spiky leaves fanned out like a green crown, and deep within her trunk she held a secret — flower buds that had been resting safely among her leaf bases, waiting for years.
“When will I bloom, Gran?” Spike asked the ancient grass tree beside her.
“When the fire comes,” Gran replied calmly.
Spike shivered. She’d heard the older trees whisper about fire, but she’d never seen one.
Not far away, at the edge of the bushland, ten-year-old Luana sat on her back porch with her sketchbook and her favourite book: Biomimicry for Kids. She loved studying how nature solved problems, and lately she’d been fascinated by fire.
“How do plants survive fire?” she wondered aloud, sketching a grass tree in her notebook. She’d seen them on a nature walk with her class, and her teacher had said they were fire-adapted. But what did that really mean?
Her neighbour, Uncle Ray, who worked for the Parks Service, walked over.
“You interested in fire ecology, Luana?”
“I want to understand how nature uses fire,” Luana said. “Like biomimicry — but for fire.”
Uncle Ray smiled. “Well, you’re in the right place to learn. This bushland has been living with fire for thousands of years. Want to help me set up some monitoring cameras? We’re tracking how the bush recovers after controlled burns.”
Luana’s eyes lit up. “Really? Yes!”
She had no idea she was about to witness nature’s greatest comeback story.
Nearby, a family of jewel beetles scurried across the bark of a eucalyptus tree. Their metallic green bodies shimmered in the afternoon light as they searched for safe places to lay eggs. But Bella, the smallest beetle, stopped to taste the air.
“Do you feel that?” she asked her mother.
“Smoke,” her mother said. “Far away, but coming closer. We need to be ready.”
In the canopy above, cockatoos squawked their warnings. On the ground, wallabies began moving towards the creek. Even the wind seemed to whisper: Change is coming.
Chapter 2: The Fire
The fire arrived on a hot, windy afternoon.
It swept through the bush like a golden wave, crackling and roaring. Spike felt the heat touch her leaves, and for a moment she was afraid. But then something extraordinary happened.
The eucalyptus trees around her didn’t fight the fire — they worked with it. Their oily leaves and bark burned hot and fast, sending the flames racing across the ground and through the canopy, before moving swiftly on.
“Let go of what’s old!” Gran called out as her own leaves burned. “Protect what matters!”
Spike felt her spiky leaves curl and blacken, but deep inside her trunk, her growing tip stayed cool. The thick layers of old leaf bases protected it like armour.
Bella and her family had already flown to safety. From a distant perch, Bella sensed the heat radiating from the fire. Jewel beetles like her had evolved tiny heat-sensing organs — a kind of natural thermometer — that helped them find freshly burned wood, perfect for laying eggs.
The wallabies reached the safety of the creek, where the flames couldn’t follow. Above them, birds circled in smoky air, waiting.
And then, as quickly as it had come, the fire moved on, leaving behind a landscape of black and silver ash.
This same heat-sensing ability inspired a later post, The Fire Beetle Sees What’s Coming: Adaptive Teaching in the Age of AI.
Chapter 3: One Day After
The next morning, the bushland looked like a different world.
Everything was cloaked in ash. The trunks stood dark and ghostly. The air smelled of smoke and earth. But if you looked closely, the land wasn’t dead — it was resting.
Spike lifted what was left of her leaves towards the sky. Her outer trunk was charred, but inside, she felt something stirring. The heat had sent a signal through her tissues: Now. It’s time.
“Gran?” she whispered. “I feel strange.”
“That’s your flowers waking up,” Gran said, her voice gentle as the wind through cinders. “The fire was their alarm clock.”
Nearby, Bella the beetle flew to the still-warm ground. This was what her kind had been waiting for. Beneath the ash, the burnt wood was perfect for her eggs. She laid them carefully in a fallen eucalyptus branch, where her larvae would have plenty to eat.
Up in the trees, blackened but still standing, birds began to return. Wood-boring insects and other beetles had already moved in, and the birds tapped eagerly at loose bark to find them.
And there, pushing through the ash, was the first tiny green shoot — a blade of grass beginning its comeback.
Chapter 4: One Week After
A week later, the bushland was stirring with colour.
Spike gasped as a tall flower stalk pushed up from her centre, growing taller each day, covered in thousands of tiny white flowers. All around her, other grass trees bloomed too — their flower spikes like white torches lighting the blackened landscape.
“This is what we were saving our energy for,” said Gran. “After fire, we throw the biggest party in the bush.”
Birds and insects flocked to the blooms — rainbow lorikeets, honeyeaters, native bees — spreading pollen and life across the recovering forest.
The eucalyptus trees joined in. From beneath their scorched bark, tiny green shoots began to sprout. These were epicormic buds, special leaf buds hidden under the bark and protected from heat. Now they burst out in tufts of green, dressing the dark trunks in hope.
“We always keep backup leaves ready,” said one tall eucalyptus. “Fire is part of our life cycle.”
Across the ground, soft green grass spread over the ash. Wallabies returned to graze the tender shoots, which were sweeter and more nutritious than before.
Even the banksias joined the celebration. Their woody seed pods, sealed tight for years, had opened in the heat. Thousands of seeds scattered onto the ash-rich soil, ready to grow.
The blog post Fire Doesn’t End the Story, It Turns the Page, explores Banksia seeds.
Chapter 5: One Month After
By the end of the first month, the bushland was nearly unrecognisable.
Green blanketed the ground. Seedlings crowded the open spaces. The eucalyptus trees shimmered with new growth, and Spike’s flower stalk still stood proudly, buzzing with pollinators.
Bella’s beetle babies had hatched and were munching through dead wood, breaking it down and mixing it into the soil. They were the bush’s recycling team, turning loss into nourishment.
A family of wallabies hopped through the recovering land. The joey peeked out of its mother’s pouch.
“Is this a new place?” it asked.
“No,” said the mother. “It’s an old place that knows how to rest, reset, and return. This happens every time fire comes. Fire has been part of this bush for thousands of years.”
Birds built nests in the new growth. Bees buzzed among fresh flowers. Underground, fungi wove threads between roots, sharing water and nutrients to help the forest heal.
Spike looked around at young eucalyptus saplings sprouting where older trees had fallen. The fire had made space, light, and food for a new generation.
“That’s the circle,” Gran said. “Fire takes and gives at the same time. It clears the old, feeds the soil, and wakes the sleeping seeds. Without it, this bush would grow tired and overcrowded.”
Chapter 6: One Year After
A year later, the bushland was thriving.
Spike’s seeds had taken root, and young grass trees sprouted all around her. Her own leaves were thick and strong again. The eucalyptus canopy was lush with new foliage, and bright wildflowers painted the understorey.
Bella was now a grandmother, and her family of jewel beetles continued their quiet work of returning nutrients to the soil.
Among the flowers bloomed orchids that only appear after fire — rare and delicate, their blossoms attracting special bees.
“The fire made us stronger,” Spike said to a nearby seedling.
“How?” the seedling asked.
“It cleared away the old so you could grow. It fed the soil with what came before. It opened seeds that had been waiting for years. It reminded us who we are — fire-adapted. This bush has been dancing with fire for millions of years.”
The seedling looked around at the vibrant landscape and understood.
Epilogue: The Wisdom of Fire
That evening, as the sun set over the renewed bushland, the wind carried a low song through the grass trees and eucalyptus.
It was a song about cycles and seasons, about endings that lead to beginnings.
The bush knew something important: fire was not an enemy, but a teacher. It was the gardener, the renewer, the quiet architect of balance. Every plant, beetle, bird, and wallaby had learned to live not in fear of fire, but in partnership with it.
When the next fire came — in five years, or ten, or twenty — the bush would be ready once again.
Because that is what fire-adapted ecosystems do.
They rest. They reset. They return.
Sometimes, to grow something beautiful, you first have to let something burn.
Think About It
Questions for Young Readers:
- What surprised you most about how plants responded to the fire?
- Why do you think the grass tree’s flowers waited for fire to bloom?
- How did the fire actually help Bella the beetle?
- Can you name three ways the eucalyptus trees were prepared for fire?
- What’s the difference between a bushland that’s “destroyed” and one that’s “resetting”?
- How is fire like a gardener in the Australian bush?
- If you could be one of the characters in this story, which would you choose and why?
Activity Ideas:
- Draw the bushland at three stages: before fire, just after fire, and one year later.
- Write a diary entry from Spike, Bella, or a wallaby during the fire.
- Research one real Australian plant or animal and describe its fire adaptation.
- Create a comic strip showing how a eucalyptus tree regrows using epicormic buds.
Notes
This story is inspired by real fire adaptations in Australian ecosystems. The grass tree (Xanthorrhoea), epicormic growth of eucalyptus trees, the infrared detection of jewel beetles, and seed release in banksias are all genuine natural strategies.
For tens of thousands of years, Indigenous Australians have practised cultural burning — a form of careful, small-scale fire management — to maintain healthy bushlands. Their deep knowledge of these landscapes long predates Western science, and continues to guide sustainable fire stewardship today.
This story became the foundation for a broader series on nature-inspired AI-era teaching — see Stop Trying to Block AI. Design Better Assignments Instead.
Verified Sources:
CSIRO: “Fire Adaptations of Australian Plants” (csiro.au)
Field of Mars Environmental Education Centre – Grass Tree Factsheet
ScienceDaily: “Beetles’ Fire Detection Sensors Help Them Avoid Hot Surfaces” (2018)
OpenLearn, UK Open University: Fire Ecology
Victorian Department of Environment – Banksia Recovery After Fire
The Conversation: “How Cultural Burning Can Help Heal the Land” (2021)
Working with AskNature Chat
Working with AskNature Chat has been an inspiring, creative experience.
I began with a simple question – “How does nature deal with fire?” – and within moments, the conversation unfolded like a walk through the bush after rain. AskNature Chat gave me scientific facts; it revealed nature’s strategies, weaving ecology, storytelling, and empathy into a form that children can feel as well as understand.
Together, we developed a biomimicry-based fire ecology unit for students aged 9+, complete with a teacher resource pack, classroom activities, and a poster that captures the renewal of life after fire in gentle blues and greens. What impressed me most was how seamlessly the science, art, and ethics intertwined.
When I shared my story idea, “The Day the Bush Woke Up,” AskNature Chat helped me shape it into a scientifically grounded narrative of resilience and regeneration. It even created luminous illustrations – soft-realistic scenes – that I quite liked.
This process felt less like using a tool and more like collaborating with nature itself. AskNature Chat listens, learns, and guides your imagination toward sustainability and wonder.
For educators, designers, or storytellers who want to bring biomimicry and ecological literacy into their work, AskNature Chat is a bridge between scientific precision and artistic soul. It doesn’t just teach you about nature – it helps you think with nature.
This blog post was produced with the assistance of AI.
Please check out my new book about AI. Unfortunately, the sound in this video is low, so you need to turn it up a bit.
The title of the book is Ceane’s Infinite AI Adventure: A Young Explorer’s Guide to Artificial Intelligence. You can buy it from Amazon.
What happens when you give a computer incredible abilities and teach it to be your creative partner?
Just like having a super-smart friend who never gets tired of your questions, AI can be your creative partner, homework helper, and curiosity companion, if you know how to talk to it responsibly.
Join Ceane on an exciting adventure, where she discovers the secret language of AI prompting and learns to unlock its infinite possibilities while developing healthy digital habits and ethical AI practices. From understanding when to use AI as a tool versus thinking for yourself, to respecting others’ creativity and being honest about AI assistance, young readers will learn not just how to prompt AI, but how to do it thoughtfully and in a healthy and balanced way.
Packed with fun challenges, mind-bending ideas, hands-on adventures, and gentle guidance on responsible AI use, this guide will transform curious children into confident and conscientious digital explorers.
Get ready to invent, create, and play with tomorrow’s technology today, while learning to use it wisely. The future is here, and it’s time to make it yours responsibly!
Frequently Asked Questions
What is biomimicry?
Biomimicry is the practice of looking to nature for solutions, then applying what we learn to design and problem-solving. Instead of inventing from scratch, it means studying how plants, animals, and ecosystems have already solved a challenge — like staying cool, collecting water, or absorbing carbon — and adapting that strategy for human use.
How does biomimicry help address climate change?
Nature has been adapting to extreme conditions for billions of years, so many organisms already hold working solutions to problems we now face at a larger scale — cooling buildings without electricity (termite mounds), collecting water in drought (the Namib beetle), protecting coastlines from storms (mangrove roots), and capturing carbon (corals, forests, kelp). Biomimicry means studying those solutions and applying the same principles to human design.
How can children get involved in biomimicry?
Children don’t need special training to think like a biomimicrist — just curiosity and a habit of asking “how does nature solve this?” Simple ways to start include a backyard scavenger hunt for nature’s patterns, a “design-an-animal” challenge for a changing climate, or building a small model (like a passive-cooling structure or a water collector) inspired by something they’ve observed outdoors.
Is biomimicry only for scientists and engineers?
No — biomimicry is as much a mindset as a profession. Anyone can practice it by observing nature closely and asking design questions. Professional biomimicry practitioners apply it in architecture, materials science, and engineering, but the same core skill — careful observation followed by “what if we built it that way?” — is exactly what this post’s classroom and family activities are designed to build in children.
Åsa Jomård
In 2015, Åsa completed a course in Biomimicry: A Sustainable Design Methodology at Minneapolis College of Art and Design. With over 10 years of experience exploring nature for inspiration and as a former member of Ben, Biomimicry Education Network, she brings both academic background and creative teaching experience to her work. Her materials seamlessly integrate stories, nature observations, and design challenges, making them perfect for inquiry-led learning in early primary contexts.
AI was used as a Thinking Partner.