The Cow Killer
As I recall, we had finished shipping yearlings on Tuesday prior. With that, there were a lot of things to do to shut down for winter. Turn windmills off, drain pipelines, winterize wells etc... Therefore, when Friday rolled around it was not a surprise or unusual to find myself headed to town for a night out. In those days, we had no cell phones and the only place to have a steak and a beer in Ordway was the VFW. They always put on a good meal and some of us young guys from “out north” found our way to town.
I remember that day well. Very well. I don’t remember any meteorological predictions, but I do remember the warmth of the south wind, the cloud bank that stretched across the northern horizon, the smell of wet sulfur that permeated the heavy air and the cattle that hurried to fill their bellies as they meandered toward the south. I also remember it being a surprise. A big surprise.
As per normal in those days, I filled up on medium rare ribeye with all the fixin’s and beer. Probably several beers. I recall dancing and having a grand time with friends, telling some tales and laughing....a lot. As time got away from me I remember the bar-keep shouting my name and telling me I had a phone call. Who would be calling me at the bar? Now listen, my folks were not people who frequented bars and such places of ill-reputation. And though I knew the world around me was familiar with my shenanigans, certainly my parents had no clue! RIGHT? Ha, not hardly. The voice in the other end of the line was that of my dad and he wasted no time in saying, “have you looked outside?” I told him I hadn’t and he advised I go look out the window and very seriously said, “do not start home tonight, stay in town this is a cow killer.” I hung up the phone looked out the window and couldn’t believe my eyes.
If you know me well, you know I have a obsession with vintage luxury cars. Specifically, cadillacs from the 50s, 60s and 70s. However a week prior to this I had sold my 1959 caddy and bought a little old ladies Lincoln Town Car. That evening I rolled all the windows down and proudly drove that old boat to town, never touching a cattle guard all the way. The hood on that booger was about 12 feet long and when I looked out the window of the VFW all I could see was the radio antenna! The wind was blowing about 50mph and there was about 16 inches of snow covering the hood of that car.
I’m not sure how clear my mind was at the time, but if it wasn’t, I got sober real fast and so did the rest of my friends. All of us had a deep respect for a blizzards wrath, after all, when growing up on the plains of Colorado that’s one of the first things you learn. From the front door of the bar you couldn’t see ten feet, so as everyone scrambled to clean the snow off their cars and figure out where to stay I hopped in that old Lincoln and headed to my friends house that I often stayed at when needing a bed in town. Guided only by the street lights, I remember the wires between the power poles swinging like a jump rope and I remember that heavy snow. This was a serious storm.
Well, as I got to Susie Isbell’s house I discovered that I wasn’t the only one that chose to throw their bedroll there. An old friend, Kristi Bohrer Herbert, who had grown up on the neighboring ranch snuck in there, my friend Susie, myself and an old heavy-set lady that I had never met before showed up. We will call her “sister.” And I’m thinking there was someone else, but I’m not sure. What I can tell you is as fun as the first night and day of that blizzard was, the second night and day of the blizzard got pretty stuffy in those cramped quarters. Three of us knew each other pretty well so we almost tolerated each other. But ol’ sister never shut her mouth. That old gal knew everything about everything. In the beginning all I could do was roll my eyes and hide in the bathroom and bang my head against the wall. You can imagine the horror I endured when I walked around the corner and she was sitting at the table with only her shirt and her big lady panties on. Back to the bathroom I went. Come the third day I was nearly out of my mind and so was everyone else. I wanted and needed to get back north to help feed and check on things but that old wind wouldn’t lay and I’m telling you we were stuck and stuck hard. Toward the evening of that third day the snow had quit and the wind laid down a little. As dusk came on the clouds moved out and it got bitter cold. I don’t know for sure but I think 20 below wouldn’t be wrong. Well, old sister seen those stars and decided she would start home. We all told her that she was going nowhere but her husband had called and advised her to start on that he’d start and meet her. I don’t remember how the heck she got that pickup out but she did and started home. I kept telling her to stay put, while crossing my fingers at the same time. But old sister was having none of it. So she went on. Sure enough about two in the morning the phone rang and it was the husband wanting to know where sister was. SHE WENT TO MEET YOU ON YOUR ADVICE! Well, old sister got out there south of town and got stuck in a drift about 8 foot deep and decided to walk! Lord, this woman couldn’t walk with balance down the middle of a dry street! Well husband frantically went to search for sister and found her bogged down in a snow drift, alive but severely frost bitten. Sister ended up losing her foot I think and maybe some fingers. I wonder what ever happened to ol sister?
That storm was a doozy. Miles and miles of power lines snapped. Our long, 100 ft barn was completely covered and my sister and Dad had to continually dig the horses out during the blizzard so they could breath. The basketball hoop was covered totally, the horses lost about 150lbs, cattle drown standing up, and late into the spring frozen footed cattle were still being found. One herd of cows and calves walked from Lamar, Colorado down 287 to the airport at Boise city, Oklahoma. But the image of cattle that had walked into canals and the Arkansas river will never leave me. Those cattle walked out there got bogged down and then those that followed just kept stacking up on top of them. Every corner was full of dead cattle. To this day I can take you to a southeast corner of a neighboring ranch and the bones of about thirty cows still lay, bleached white as the snow that put them there. An estimated 30,000 head died on the range during that storm....my dad was right, it was a cow killer. And I’m sure the feedlots suffered even worse losses.
As bad as that storm was, it pales in comparison to the blizzard of ‘46, ‘79 and especially 1988. 2005 was one for the ages as well, that whole winter was.
How lucky we were to not own one cloven hoof during that storm.....but only by 4 days. So many others didn’t fair as well.