On March 6, wildfires swept across Kansas, Oklahoma and Texas and consumed thousands of acres of productive ranchland, and left ranchers to pile up dead cows and bury them in mass graves. Ranch homes were lost, barns were left in ashes and hope of recovery was slipping away. Those of us outside the affected area watched as videos and photos of the devastation populated our newsfeed on social media sites. The national media remained quiet.

 

As the agricultural community learned of the loss, a groundswell of support began to grow and gain momentum. A few days after the fires were snuffed out, semi loads of hay began arriving in the ravaged areas. Videos and pictures went viral and we all felt a little better. But that was just the tip of the iceberg.

 

FFA and 4-H groups spent their spring break in the sun and sand of the Kansas prairie, rolling up burned barbed wire and stringing up new fence. With sootsmeared faces, men and women young and old pitched in to help the ranchers drive fence posts and roll out wire. When the agricultural community heard they needed more feed, fence posts and milk replacer, semis were loaded from all corners of the Midwest. With the American flag strapped onto the back of the loads of hay, convoys of all sorts of trucks drove day and night to deliver the goods.

 

One group in central Michigan tried to gather six or seven trucks with hay to send and when word got out of their efforts, they ended up with 50-some trucks loaded with supplies to take out West. Small squares, large rounds, T-posts, wooden fence posts, barbed wire, high tensile and bags and bags of milk replacer have inundated the ravaged Great Plains – each given from the generous hearts of the ag community.

 

As I thought about the loads of hay being delivered, I thought about when that hay was baled in the hot, humid days of summer. When those Midwest farmers put that hay in the barn, it was intended for their own use.

 

When the last bale was stacked up before the storms blew in that night, they were satisfied knowing their livestock would eat in the bitter cold months of winter. None of them knew they would be giving up their crop to complete strangers a thousand miles away who would stand looking at stark, empty pastures and piles of ashes.

 

Little did they know they would be the lifeblood for another man who would wake up the next morning to remember the devastation he had to endure. At the end of that hot July day, they had no foresight that they would be the light of hope to keep another family on the farm in Kansas, Oklahoma or Texas.

 

And as I write this, the help has not ended. There are more trucks of supplies scheduled to leave over the next few weeks. There is no overabundance of anything in the farming community, except for the things that matter most: generosity, kindness and empathy. To all who have given, thank you. You may never know who’s soul you have encouraged or whose hope you have sparked – or whose life you have saved.

 

The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of Farm World. Readers with questions or comments for Melissa Hart may write to her in care of this publication.