Love and loss, Stories from the fire line

Love and loss

Stories from the fire line

By Alex Hargrave

Buffalo Bulletin

Via Wyoming News Exchange

BUFFALO —  The early hours of the House Draw fire burning up eastern Johnson County were scenes of smoke, flames and confusion, as first responders and landowners tell it.

Johnson County Sheriff Rod Odenbach described what he saw Wednesday afternoon during the fire's rapid spread on its way to more than 174,000 acres: flaming grasshoppers.

In an interview, Odenbach said that his and other law enforcement vehicles were surrounded by the insects that caught fire and then burned up, easily mistaken for ash.

“I probably had 50 of them on the hood of my truck," Odenbach said. “You hear of specifically rabbits on fire that start the fire again but the grasshopper thing, it was super weird and kind of gross." 

The Sheriff's Office and Buffalo Police Department helped notify landowners that the fire was in their vicinity so they could decide whether and when to evacuate themselves and their livestock.

While the instinct for many is to run from fire, many Johnson County residents have been running toward the House Draw fire over the past week.

For first responders, including fire crews and law enforcement, it's a difficult part of their jobs. Similarly, for ranchers, it's their livelihoods on the line.

Megan Welles and her husband, Ian, stayed at their ranch east of Buffalo throughout the fire in hopes of protecting their home while their children went into town with a friend.

Thanks to their efforts and the help of neighbors, fire crews and aircraft dropping fire retardant, their home, and all other homes in the county that were threatened by the blaze that burned more than 163,000 acres in just one day remain safe.

“When you ranch, you see grass fire. You fight fire occasionally, but we've never had our home be threatened by fire or a fire of this magnitude,” Megan Welles said in an interview.

The lightning-caused House Draw fire ignited near the south end of the Welles ranch, on Trabing Road. At noon on Wednesday, Megan was called home by her husband to prepare for the possibility of the House Draw fire moving toward their house, she recalled.

Neighbors filed in quickly to help gather and move horses and prepare their home as wind carried the fire toward it. Photos captured that day show feet-high, yellow-orange flames licking yards from the Welles home. It was 10 p.m. when firefighters left their ranch, assured that the home was safe, Welles said.

Ultimately, the family estimates that it lost 32,000 acres to the fire. 

As their land burned, they scrambled to move livestock to safety. 

An aircraft dropped fire retardant to protect their indoor arena. There, on the dirt-covered ground, safe from fire, their roping cattle stayed put, while Megan, Ian and their neighbors got on four-wheelers and moved yearlings as the fire jumped Crazy Woman Creek.

“At one point, the wind blew ash and smoke in front of us. It was pitch dark, and we had to abandon moving yearlings and get out as quick as we could,” Welles said.

Anita Bartlett, public information officer with the Powder River Fire District, described a similarly hellish scene on the southern end of the fire hours before dawn on Thursday morning. At 2 a.m., she set out to the fire line to deliver coffee and muffins to keep firefighters fed until breakfast time.

This is Bartlett's first year working in fire. Before the House Draw fire, the largest fire the crew had seen this year was roughly 170 acres.

“At points, the smoke was so thick you couldn't see," she said. "You just creep along and hope you can see. Most of our emergency lights are red. Red flashing lights at night in a fire – we need to change those.”

Driving Buffalo-Sussex Cutoff Road on Saturday, the fire was mostly extinguished on its southern division, aside from some ash that stirred up in the wind. Crews were stationed on ridgelines, watching for still-hot embers that could catch fire and be carried onto cured grass and start the fire all over again.

Livestock continued to graze within view of the fire line. Some even lay on the blackened ground.

Burned sagebrush littered the landscape in southern Johnson County in the days following the fire. Charred branches now stand where the light green western icon once stood. Bartlett, who is also the Powder River Conservation District manager, said that it's difficult to get sagebrush to grow back.

Despite the loss of rangeland and habitat, no one has been injured in the fire thus far as it sits at 88% containment.

Bartlett worried when she struggled to get in contact with the district's volunteer firefighters in the early hours of the fire, when resources were tight and the spread was unpredictable. She figured it was a radio issue, but it's nerve-wracking, the unknown.

"A good chunk of these guys, I've known since they were in junior high,” she said. "For me, it's like my little chicks. My guys always need to come home.”

The fire, the biggest and most devastating that Johnson County has seen in decades, has also demonstrated the generosity of friends, neighbors and perfect strangers.

Kristina Anders lives off of Deer Trail with her family and a hobby farm of numerous beloved animals. Her 2.7 acre farm of goats, sheep, donkeys, cats, dogs, a potbelly pig, a horse and a mini cow has been a dream of hers that was finally realized two years ago.

It took two hours on Wednesday to gather as many critters as she could, with the help of people she didn't know who brought horse trailers to haul them to safety.

"We've been completely overwhelmed with the support and outpouring of help from the community,” Anders said. "At the fairgrounds, there's been hay sitting there by our animal pens – we have no idea where it's coming from. I've been telling my children we have a hay fairy.”

Welles said that her family estimates that six to 10 cows remain missing. 

Despite having to abandon the round up of yearlings, half of them made their way to safety near the house, she said. The other half were OK, too, though she's not exactly sure how.

Now, she and other landowners are slowly assessing their damage as they wonder how the cycle of raising livestock will continue. It's likely that animals will be shipped out much earlier than usual as fencing has either been burned up or cut for access.

In the meantime, Welles' livestock is safe and fed. Since her electricity is out, a local meat processing plant has offered to store her frozen food. Her friends showed up to do laundry, bring meals and clean her home of ash, dust and soot.

“Having the support of our community has made this tolerable,” Welles said. "It's a lot easier to plan and put boots on the ground and go to work.”

This story was published on August 29, 2024.