Better late than never

I nearly cried tears of joy a couple of nights ago when the sound of heavy rain on my roof woke my wife and I around 3 in the morning. It’s been a long, dry, dusty fall, winter and spring here in western Nebraska. The North Platte River is flowing at a small trickle and until a few days ago, the pastures on our place were a shade of brown and gray that made it look like the dead of winter instead of the first of June. Cows are still being fed every day, when most years they are out grazing the native prairies by now. The barn cat could make dust just trotting across the yard and it seems like even normal activities are a fire hazard.

The rain the other night was preceded by a lightening storm that made it look like daytime in the dead of night. Flash after flash cracked across the sky and every roll of thunder made us a little more uneasy after our county went through the worst wildfire in our state history just a couple of months ago. The burn scar shows signs of healing. Despite not having any moisture, there are whispers of grass coming through the scorched earth. These recent rains will surely help in getting the grass to growing back on the sandy hills again.

The first drought that I can remember in vivid detail was 2002. I was still in elementary school, but the toll that drought took on my family left vivid memories. I watched as my parents and grandparents sold over half of their cowherd to be able to buy hay to feed the rest. I remember my mom taking a job in town with the Farm Service Agency just to help pay the bills after the loss of income. The night a dry lightning storm went through and sparked over 40 fires in the southern part of the county is a night that will forever be remembered. While my brother and I were in elementary and middle school at the time, we rode with neighboring fire departments so we could give directions as to where gates, windmills and county roads were located. Though there was some relief from that drought, most folks in that area would tell you that it went on for years.

2012 found me going to college in Hays, Kan., and another widespread drought took hold in the Great Plains. There were over 100 days of consecutive triple digit heat that summer. What little rain did fall was gone the following day in the wind and heat that followed. Drought is a part of life living where I do, I have learned to make plans to include it. Leaving grass behind in pastures helps to cover the ground to protect topsoil moisture. Feed is the largest cost of any operation, and I learned from that drought in 2002 that you could not feed your way out of a drought. Only God above knows when the beneficial rains will fall, and feeding cows until they do will break an operation.

The rains that fell did more than grow grass and give the crops something to live on, they gave us hope. Hope that this year might turn around, hope that we can hang on and keep going, and hope that the sand would finally stop blowing. That’s all for this time, continue to pray for rain, prepare your fields so you are ready when it comes, and keep tabs on your side of the barbed wire. God bless.

Meinzer is a fourth-generation rancher raised on the southeastern plains of Colorado. He and his family live and ranch in Oshkosh, Neb.