National News, Up-close and Personal


The wildfires in the Texas Panhandle, the area where I grew up, were national news last week. This account from Patsy Duncan, owner of the Duncan Ranch East of Amarillo is compelling to say the least and makes it a much more up-close and personal event.
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Dearest friends and family,

We are ok.........Ronnie and Roper were on their way to Florida for Spring break when the fire hit and I was at the house with my housekeeper Sue, who was cleaning Roper's house.

I awoke Sunday morning realizing that the weather felt just like the last fire. I was wrong. It was worse. A good friend Sherron Boyd called me about the fire. It was a good 30 miles away when it started. It was about 25 miles away and heading for her home in Skellytown, when Sherron called to warn me.

I went on top out of our valley to see where I could move our cattle out of the way of the fire which jumped 4 paved highway lanes and many, many paved roads. We always hope they can stop these things at the roads. The wind was blowing about 50 MPH gusts, and the humidity was nothing.A few ranchers were up on the paved road watching. I told one he could move his cows on us up at this old house we have near our entrance (or did have...it isn't there any longer). His cattle were ok because of that.

I realized that wherever I moved our whole adult herd of cattle—300 cows that were in one section and around 200 calves—they would be in line of the fire as it was so huge, maybe 25 miles wide. I started back to at least open a gate to spread the cows out, and Freeman warned me that I would get caught down at my house and not be able to get out. But I had to go back as Sue was here at the houses six miles away, and you just can't believe a fire can be that bad.

I opened the gate for the cows who rushed through as many were on the fence line and would have been caught there. (I probably saved 200 head by doing this). I went down to the house and turned what horses I could turn out and turned the 50 heifers we were calving out of a pen. Then I got a call from a nurse, Patsy Chambers, who had taken care of Mother, that on the scanner they had asked anyone who knew the Duncan Ranch telephone number to call them and tell them to evacuate NOW. People care so much and her call could have been a lifesaver. I also called Ronnie and told him the fire was on its way to the house. Ronnie called the firefighters and John Fisher who saved our house. I loaded Sue and 3 dogs (all I could get in a hurry), my purse and cell phone and headed out. Sue followed in her car. We ran into a huge wall of fire just as we entered our Robinson pasture and turned North. The winds were out of the SW. I told Sue to park her car on this place where we had gotten Caliche and there wasn't much to burn. Then we headed across country to the neighboring ranch. Behind us poor cattle were being consumed by fire.

We drove down into a valley turning west. After a mile and a half I came to a dry creek bed where you can normally cross. But due to such dry conditions for so long it was puffy and I got stuck the first few feet. The fire was about 1 mile to our south. Across the dry creek bed is a windmill. I told Sue that we could survive there by getting in the tank and covering our heads with wet clothes. And there was just dirt all around the windmill.

We thought we needed to let people know where we were and didn't have service on our cells phones, so we climbed to the top of the hill. The fire was moving so fast that at that time we were sort of on the western edge. So we walked a mile to a road where I knew someone could identify and pick us up. The game warden met us. Thank goodness for cell phones.In the meantime Roper was on the phone with a county man, John Fisher. She told him the fire was heading to our house, so he drove the maintainer through fire to cut fire walls over and over to prevent us from loosing our house and to stop the fire from going North more.

The county commissioner went with him in his pickup, driving through fire to talk to him on a walkie talkie and let him know when the fire had escaped his firewalls.

As we drove North toward Skellytown, I turned to see the fire barreling toward our houses. I could see a long line of cows on the horizon that it looked like maybe were ahead of the fire as it turned? Or they could have been right in line of it. I couldn't tell. So I thought we had lost all our cows, calves, house barns horses, heifers, dogs and cats. The fire might could have circled us had it not been for the game warden being right there and cells phones.

As we drove out, there was fire on both sides of the road. Then on toward Skellytown, we had to turn around rapidly because we ran right into fire. When they say don't drive into smoke, it’s because the fire is right there.

The game warden took us to Girl's Town where my friend Don picked us up and took us to his house. About dusk we tried to get home. I learned from Ronnie and Roper that John had saved our houses, horses, dogs, cats, and heifers.

At home there were still fires everywhere. Don pulled our truck out and Sue's car was ok. We went to the house. Near the house another fire had erupted just south of the house near the creek with tons of fuel. But the wind had begun to shift out of the west, and we knew it was turning NW. Firefighters were also on that blaze. Firefighters continually stopped fires circling back that would have ended up burning our houses.

Sue and Don finally got out because the fire was threatening Mobeetie and Mclean and Pampa by that time. I slept with glowing fires to my south—big fires—but thankful the wind was calming and out of the North and NW.

Ronnie flew home Monday night. The whole west side of our ranch is leveled—16 or more miles of fences and pens, but we are lucky. From Skellytown to our house everything is gone, except the fire seemed to jump some homes.

Three good friends died in the fire. Jack Will who lived down the road from me. He was 94 and didn't get out of his log home. Jack used to help us work cattle. Then Cathy Ryan who left her home that survived to try to get two elderly people out. My neighbor barely escaped that same fire trying to help and had gotten Cathy in her vehicle with the elderly man, Bill, who panicked, we think, and got out of the pickup and ran. They drove through fire to save the old gentlemen's wife Oletha. We are moving cattle to the east side of the ranch with fences and that looks like the Garden of Eden right now but which is really horribly drougthy and grass blowing away to leave dirt. (Worst grass I have ever seen on this ranch and I am 57 years old.)

The cows and calves that were in the pasture I let most of them out of, are burned. We moved them slowly across 2 1/2 miles to slowly get them down to pasture and fences that are 5 miles away from where they were. Ronnie called it the "Bataan Death March." It was so pitiful. Calves singed all over with ears burned and partially blind calves and some lost hooves as they traveled. We shot a few before leaving and along the way. The calves had so much heart. Some mothers are trying so hard to help their babies. Ronnie shot more calves yesterday. Some of the ones who made the March looked better today. The mothers of the ones shot pine and cry for the babies and bawl and bawl. Ronnie was going to shoot one calf that lost his hoof casing in the March, but his Mother ran over to him protecting him as he raised his gun. He told me he wasn't shooting any more calves today—it's just too hard. He shot the ones suffering. One poor cow is badly burned and a burned udder. Then some were burned and are lying where the fire caught them. We've doctored a lot of calves. We probably lost or will lose 50 calves. Roper will head home this weekend.

I am worn out, but safe. They amazingly got our electricity back. But my phone may be quite a while. My cell is 806-886-5206, but only works if I am in town, not at my house in this valley.

We could not survive were it not for volunteer firefighters, the regular firefighters and all the law enforcement people who so willingly come to our rescue. The Texas Panhandle has volunteer firefighters in every small town. We heard we are a national disaster. I am not sure what that means—900,000 acres were burned and it's still burning. It was started by an electrical line falling or the post breaking. We realize how lucky we are to be safe.

Patsy
"Believe in Miracles"
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These are pictures of the Panhandle disaster– view at your own discretion: http://www.txfb.org/fire/FireIndex.asp