Peace between storms

MARY REICHARD, HOST: Today is Thursday, April 18th. Thank you for turning to WORLD Radio to help start your day. Good morning. I’m Mary Reichard.

Coming next on The World and Everything in It: recovering from the Smokehouse wildfire.

Ranchers in the Texas Panhandle lost more than 7000 cows in the wake of the one- million acre wildfire in February. Keeping the surviving livestock alive with limited resources makes recovery even more difficult.

MYRNA BROWN, HOST: WORLD reporter Bonnie Pritchett continues our coverage from the Texas Panhandle with the story of one rancher.

BONNIE PRITCHETT: For rancher Roper Cox and her son, Rhoan, February 27 began with new life.

ROPER COX: And we're sitting there looking at the neighbor who was calving out his first calf heifers there, and we're watching these baby calves buck and play and it was peaceful…

The calves played on the other side of the barbed wire fence separating her house from the rancher’s spread. Cox lives in the Texas Panhandle about 30 miles from the nearest town. Hardly a tree dots these grass and dirt plains that offer a horizon-to-horizon view of the sky and the wildfire smoke that frequently blurs that horizon.

On February 26th, fire broke out northwest of Cox’s ranch and headed east. Pop-up blazes dotted the region around her place. She figured the big fire would avoid her. And the volunteer firefighters controlled the others.

COX: But we sit there and look down this road here and all of a sudden we see all the fire departments leaving us. They're all leaving…

One truck turned up her dirt drive.

COX: And they said, “Well, you might want to think about evacuating.” To me, you might want to think about evacuating is not the same as, ‘Get out right now.’

Still Cox and her son decided to heed the warning.

COX: So just in a matter of just a couple of minutes, you know, we pull here and the sky’s already turned red on us…

They scrambled to gather their two service dogs, a friend’s dog, and a kitten.

COX: And I grabbed the kitten and had got back almost to the door and I hear him scream. And he said come on and I look up and all I see were flames just across the yard. The wind was on fire.

AUDIO: [WIND SOUND]

The service dogs panicked and ran back toward the flames. With the fire already singeing Rhoan’s beard, rescuing them wasn’t an option.

COX: It took me four tries to get out of the yard because I couldn't see the cattle guard because the flames were so thick on us. I promise you I've never prayed so hard in my entire life as I did…

They left behind their dogs, one bull, a heifer, and an old stud horse.

Cox grew up on a Florida ranch and is accustomed to the hardships that come with living off the land.

She moved to the Texas Panhandle for school where she met her husband Ronnie. They had about 2000 acres where they raised their two boys and cattle. They bought more grazing land in New Mexico and Florida. But the Texas ranch was home.

Then disaster struck – one Cox couldn’t run from.

COX: My husband committed suicide six years ago. And he left me with a lot of debt we didn't know, I didn't know about…

About two million dollars in debt. It took two years and the sale of all but 18 acres of their ranch to climb out. She leases grazing land for her cattle. Just days before the fire broke out, she moved them to New Mexico.

The day after the wildfire, Cox and her son returned home not knowing what they’d find.

COX: It did pick and choose what it decided to take out. You know, it took the house, it took the greenhouse, it took the camper…

AUDIO: [SIFTING SOUND]

Volunteers with the Texas Baptist Men sift through the remains of the house she shared with Rhoan.

Her dogs survived. So did the cattle and horse.

COX: It didn't take everything. And what it took was a lot of stuff that had belonged to my husband. You know, people go, “Oh, it's stuff. You can replace it.” No, you can't. But that's okay. Um, you know, I wasn't meant to hold on to that, I guess. It was almost like losing him again…

There’s another kind of grief that the ranchers share.

COX: We’re land stewards. We love this land. We're trying our best to make it the best it can be. And losing that and losing our pastures. It is, it is a big grieving process…

AUDIO: [SOUND OF SKID TRACTOR]

National attention of the Smokehouse Creek Wildfire prompted donations for livestock. Some landed at Cox’s ranch.

COX: We're looking at cattle cubes. We're looking at deer corn, deer feed protein, horse feed here. And a lot of hay that's come from all over the United States. Absolutely all over the United States…

Some of the donations for livestock being delivered to Roper Cox’s ranch. Photo by Bonnie Pritchett

Her place became a distribution site for 17 neighboring ranchers who otherwise would spend half a day traveling to and from the closest donation site.

COX: I don't even know how it happened. It just kind of, “Here, we're dropping hay.” And I'm like, “Well, okay. My neighbors need hay, and I realized they needed hay, they needed feed. They needed this. And so, it just kind of started coming together. And I didn’t need much.

By mid-March vibrant green shoots of grass softened the land’s black burn scar. But the new growth needs time to mature before livestock can graze. That could extend the need for supplemental feed into next spring.

If there’s not another fire. Or tornado.

Cox is learning to find peace between the storms.

COX: You know what? You know how I can tell you how I can see peace? Every day that sunsets right over there, and you see it. You didn't look anything great now. But right at sunset tonight that'll be the prettiest sunset you ever laid eyes on. And if you were here really early this morning, I'm horizon to horizon up here on my little hill.

Reporting for WORLD, I’m Bonnie Pritchett in the Texas Panhandle.

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