Grit with Grace

Touching Tractor Tribute: Farmers Bid Farewell to Steve Hamm, a Loyal Lifeline in the Field

Fri, 31 Jan 2025 22:13:48 GMT

A love for tractors and an admiration for John Deere green. That’s how you’d describe Steve Hamm, a John Deere mobile technician for 30 years. A father and grandpa, he was loved by many, as many in the community will tell you he was truly dedicated to his craft.

“Steve was a pioneer for that kind of knowledge. We really depended on him,” says Chris Roberson, general manager of Ag-Power, the John Deere dealership in Richmond, Mo., where Steve worked.

“He was a man of integrity,” says Dennis Estes, who worked with Steve at Ag-Power, but was also Steve’s friend and the pastor at his church. “He had a passion for what he did, and he was a person who served a lot of people.”

As a technician, Steve’s career revolved around service, but even then, Steve went above and beyond time and again.

“He lived to serve,” Roberson says. “He put everyone else above him or before him, and he was on call all the time. Whether it involved work or even personal family matters. He was always able to be reached and counted on.”

“You look at the communities that Steve served, people from small towns and everywhere else who called Steve, if it was 10 at night, Steve took the call,” says Estes.

Friends of Steve Hamm say he adored his family.

(Photo provided by the Hamm Family )

Estes says for area farmers, Steve was a loyal lifeline in the field, providing a service no matter the time and no matter how challenging the issue was that needed fixed.

“This equipment is so complicated these days. And Steve pursued the passion of always learning,” says Estes. “If there was anything he couldn’t fix, he found out how to fix it, and he wouldn’t quit. He had the passion that made him pursue that until he got it. And I think that’s what really sets him apart.”

Roberson says on paper, Steve was a master technician, which is the highest honor you can receive as a John Deere technician. But he was more than that. Steve had a wealth of knowledge he passed on to others.

A man who dedicated three decades of his life to helping others was remembered in a remarkable way this past week. On a crisp, sunny Tuesday morning, those same farmers who Steve served for all those years found a way to show just how grateful they were.

“I’ve never seen a tribute for somebody that was more compelling probably than that tribute,” Estes says.

An aerial view of the touching tractor tribute for Steve Hamm in Richmond, Mo.

(Matt Mormann )

Tractor after tractor, combines with their augers out, all lined the road next to the cemetery where Steve would be laid to rest.

“I couldn’t help but think as we were doing the graveside service the effort made by so many people to be there,” Estes says. “As I looked up on the hill at all of the farmers, it was almost as if it was a mist because you could see the moisture in the eyes of so many of these people, many hardened individuals. Farmers who are used to being out in nature and fighting it, whether flood or drought or whatever it is, and through that toughness, they still had those kind of feelings for Steve.”

Steve Hamm was laid to rest on Tuesday, and farmers were there to pay tribute and witness his final ride.

(Tyne Morgan )

Farmers who never had the chance to say thank you or goodbye, stepped up to the call this week with a touching tractor tribute.

“He deserved every bit of that tribute. He didn’t ever ask for it. I hope he’s smiling down on us,” Estes says.

The touching tractor tribute was a nod to something Steve loved so much, as he took his final ride.

Texas Tornado Destroys Ag Shop, But Doesn’t Stop FFA Members From Helping Community

Tue, 21 Feb 2023 16:31:02 GMT

A line of storms snaked through north and central Texas on Monday, resulting in several tornadoes along the Interstate 35 corridor. About 60 miles northwest of Fort Worth, an F3 tornado touched down outside of Jacksboro at 3:45 p.m., ripping buildings to shreds, including the local high school, elementary school and ag shop.

“I felt so helpless,” says Kevin Thomas, ag teacher at Jacksboro Independent School District.

Thomas had left school to pick up his truck and trailer at his farm about 12 miles away when the tornado hit.

“I knew it hit my ag shop and there was nothing I could do,” he says. “Two co-teachers and 20 students were in the ag shop practicing for judging contests. All I could do was pray that nothing happened to them. Yes, they were capable, but my nature is to take care of things and when I couldn’t ...”

The Jacksboro High School’s ag shop was torn apart in the tornado that produced 150-mph winds, says ag teacher Kevin Thomas. Video by Kevin Thomas.

Braced for Impact

The tornado ripped off the roof the ag shop and the high school gym. The elementary school also took a major hit with 200 kids inside waiting for buses to arrive.
It’s a miracle no one was seriously injured or killed, Thomas says. Survey teams have confirmed 10 tornadoes hit the area, which might increase as the National Weather Service continues to investigate damage.

“We just didn’t have much warning,” Thomas says. “It developed quickly and was on us so fast.”

Despite the devastation this town of 4,000 experienced, Thomas says he’s grateful. All of his students that stayed after school to practice for FFA contests were safe and none of the elementary school kids or their families were hurt.

A look inside the high school gym at Jacksboro after the tornado struck. Video provided by Kevin Thomas.

The school district has relatively new buildings specially designed and geared for tornadoes, he says.

“Every building has tornado hallways built along concrete structures with emergency gates that slide in place like a bunker. We do drills to prepare us for moments like this,” Thomas adds.

Unfortunately, the ag shop wasn’t quite as equipped, and his co-teachers had to hunker down in the bathrooms with all their students. Once the storm passed and Thomas made it back to the school around 4:15 p.m., his FFA students jumped in his truck, and they headed out into their community to help people one house at a time. They passed out waters and Gatorades and comforted elderly members of their community standing outside their homes in shock.

“There were no emergency workers in sight. We had to drag trees out of roadways and there were power lines down everywhere,” he says. “I brought in my skid steer and helped move trees off houses, living rooms, etc. I just wanted to help give people a little peace of mind. We just talked and worked alongside each other and our FFA kids helped every step of the way.”

FFA members pitch in and help with clean-up after the tornado. Photo by Kevin Thomas.

A Desire to Help

To his knowledge, this is the first tornado to hit their community, or at least since he moved there in the mid-1980s.

“We’ve been through some really rough times as a community, but never a storm like this. With all the turmoil in the world, food and fuel prices, politics, I just looked up yesterday and saw good in people,” Thomas says. “No judgment. Nothing but a desire to help. When things get tough, we lay our differences aside and focus on one mission, one goal. It was about being a good human and helping your neighbor.”

A drone’s view of the damage at Jacksboro Independent School District. Video provided by Kevin Thomas.

The cost of the damage is still unknown. The school farm is wiped out. A week ago, Jacksboro FFA would have lost all the kids’ show pigs for Houston.

“We are starting a new season this week focusing on career development events,” he says. “I can’t imagine what it would have been like if this would have happened last week.

You can’t help but think there’s a man upstairs after driving through the community and seeing all the damage. How did we all make it out of this with hardly a scratch?”

More from Farm Journal’s PORK:

Is ‘Tornado Alley’ Expanding East?

The Day Derecho Hit Our Farm

Derecho Forces Evacuation of 25,000 Pigs After Winds Rip Barns Apart

Champion Steer Sells For $1 Million in Houston

The Night the Fire Took the Farm

Speechless: The Call That Saved One Hog Producer’s Farm

Our Derecho Story: The Trees Saved Our Pigs

Virginia Farmer Was Stranded After His Tractor Ran Over Him; What Happened Next Will Restore Your Faith in Humanity

Tue, 01 Nov 2022 22:17:14 GMT

Winding across a hilly, gravel road in Crockett, Virginia, is where you’ll find Allen Dix every day of the week except Sunday.

“This is part of my 75-mile mail route that I travel six days a week,” he says.

As a USPS rural mail carrier, it’s a route he knows by memory, and one he traveled just like any other mail day in early March.

Part of his daily routine as a mail carrier, it’s that same road where John Moody is also a regular.

“Well, I’ve lived here on this farm almost my whole life. This was my grandparents’ farm,” says Moody, who raises cattle in the remote area of Virginia.

For 31 years, John worked for the county USDA Farm Service Agency (FSA), even serving as the county executive director, but now retired, owning cattle for more than 40 years means John never slowed down. And on March 4th, the day just after John had turned 70 years old, his day started as it normally would as he loaded up to feed his cattle.

“I had a hay bale here on the front, and I had a hay bale on the back,” John remembers.

With bales in tow, John stopped to open the gate to feed his cows, the same way he’s done for decades.

“I just pulled off the side road and pulled off in the ditch and let it idle over there, and then I go across the road, open the gate and come back and get on tractor,” says John. “Well, I did that, and I wasn’t paying any attention, but when I turned around and started back toward the tractor, I looked up, and here came the tractor.”

The Accident

His first instinct was to try to jump on to the tractor to stop it, but as he did, John slipped off.

“My right leg got caught under the back tire, and it just pulled me under,” he remembers.

The tractor, with the two hay bales still in tow, ran straight over John, crushing his lower body.

“Luckily, when it ran over me, when it got to my hips, it just turned to the side and went on off into the fence,” John says.

After the tractor charged across him and landed in the fence, John couldn’t move. And John says just seconds after it happened, he was in shock.

“I thought I was paralyzed,” says John. “I couldn’t move either one of my legs.”

But hearing a steady stream of hooves heading straight for the gate still wide open, still unable to walk, in true farmer fashion, it was more than survival on John’s mind.

“So, I crawled over and got the gate shut,” says John. “And I thought, ‘Well, maybe I can pull myself up and get on the tractor.’ So, I pulled myself up on the gate. But I couldn’t take a step or nothing. So, I just laid back down.”

The Rural Route Rescue

By that time it was mid-morning, when the rural road isn’t traveled much. So John knew the best chance of someone rescuing him was to lie in the ditch.

“I kept thinking well, sooner or later the mailman would come, and I laid there about an hour,” he remembers.

And sure enough, Dix, who travels the road daily, pulled up right on time.

“But as I got closer, I noticed the tractor was across the road and it was into the fence, and the tractor was still running,” remembers Dix.

The route and frequent stops are ones Dix knows by heart. And as he pulled off to the side of the road, he quickly realized something wasn’t right.

“I actually found John in the ditch right here along the edge of the road,” he says. “I was kind of approaching him rather cautiously. And, I said, ‘John, are you okay?’ And he said, ‘No, actually, the tractor ran over me.’”

And that’s when Dix immediately called 911.

“911, do you have an emergency,” asked the 911 operator.

“Yes, I’m on Zion Church Road,” you can hear Dix say on the call.

“Is he out of the roadway,” the operator then asked.

“Yes. I’m a mail carrier and I want to stay here with him until someone gets here,” answered Dix.

But after he hung up, John had a call he needed to make.

“John doesn’t have cell phone. He’s old school. So, I gave him my cell phone,” says Dix.

“He called the rescue squad, and I called my wife,” John remembers with tears in his eyes.

“The first thing he said was, ‘What are you doing?’ And I said, ‘Well, I’m working.’ And he said, ‘Could you meet me at the hospital?’ And then I had to sit down,” remembers Debbie Moody, John’s wife. “And I said, ‘What’s happened?’ He said, ‘Well, my tractor ran over me.’ And then I really started to panic.”

She says Dix then took the phone back and explained what had happened as Debbie says she was still in shock.

“When John told me his tractor ran over him, of course. I imagined the worst,” she says.

With Dix still there, the ambulance arrived and rushed John to a local hospital, but it was there the staff realized John’s injuries were too severe.

“They sent me to Wake Forest Baptist in North Carolina, and they flew me down there by a helicopter and they took me to the trauma center, and then they operated the next day on my leg,” he says.

Repairing a hole where gravel had burrowed into his skin, John also had three pins placed where the tractor fractured his pelvis. And it was during surgery the severeness of John’s accident also sunk in.

“The surgeon said, ‘You know, he shouldn’t be alive,’” Debbie remembers. “And I cried. I knew it was bad. But when she put it in those words, I cried and said a little prayer.”

John spent a total of 15 days at the hospital with rehab continuing when he got home. Debbie was a natural at being a nurse, but she was also John’s biggest cheerleader as he worked to walk again.

“It was hard on him because he would be tired and sometimes frustrated,” she says. “But he did very well and pushed hard and did what he had to do.”

Steady Stream of Support

As the recovery process was just starting, it was when the Moody’s returned home they saw support and help from family and friends.

“When we came home one of my neighbors they’d built a ramp for me,” says John. “Another one had brought a hospital bed for me, and I was in that hospital bed for about three months that we set up in the living room.”

And the generosity didn’t stop, as the kindness seemed to keep pouring in.

“I had one neighbor that came and fed my cattle for the rest of the winter, and then I had another one come in vaccinate all my calves,” John remembers.

But it wasn’t just those neighbors who continued to check on John. You see, Dix didn’t just rescue John on March 4th. Right after Dix found John in the ditch, he jumped right in to mend what needed fixed on the farm, as he waited with John for help to arrive.

“I was able to move the tractor off of the fence, get it back to the barn was able to mend the fence,” says Dix.”

Even then, Dix says his job still wasn’t finished.

“And he needed some personal things from the house. I went to his house and got those. After all that was finished, I finished my mail route.”

And for Dix, that’s just what you do.

“We take care of each other out here. We look after each other,” he says.

Rural Route Hero

But from finding John and calling 911, to then repairing the fence and gathering items John needed for his hospital stay, what Dix did on March 4, 2021 extended far beyond his day job, something for which he was recognized recently.

“They actually surprised me with the presentation at the post office. I had absolutely no idea that it was going on,” says Dix.

That surprise and presentation wasn’t just for any award, but the USPS’ Hero Award.

“I’m a little uncomfortable with the ‘hero’ title, because, John and Debbie are the heroes for surviving the accident, her giving him care through this whole thing. And it’s been an emotional six months for them, and for me, too.”

A Humble Hero

With his name now engraved at the USPS headquarters in Washington, D.C., Dix still doesn’t like being called a hero. But to John and Debbie, a hero is exactly what he is.

“Allen is truly a hero. He will always be a hero to the Moody family, because of his quick thinking,” says Debbie. “In this area, people do take care of each other and look after each other, and that was just second nature to him.”

“He saved me from a lot of suffering getting there when he did, or I don’t know when somebody would have got there that day,” says John.

While Dix typically delivers mail, that day, Allen Dix proved to be a rural route hero by delivering an unforgettable rescue. As John and Allen share a new bond, it’s one of which John will be forever thankful.

A New Chapter

As for John, his recovery has been a year in the making.

“I had been thinking about cutting back on my cattle; a third this year, a third next year, and then a third next year and going out of the cow-calf operation and then buying calves in the spring and selling them in the fall,” explains John. “Well, while laid there I thought well, this might be a good time just sell all them. So that’s what I did once I got better.”

However, the accident wasn’t the end of John’s story, as John recently started a new chapter. Nearly a year after John survived the tractor accident and sold off all his cattle knowing he couldn’t care for them at the time, he just purchased 19 head of cattle to graze again. As the cattle returned to the farm in March 2022, it’s affirmation that when you have enough heart and passion, it’s a way of life that not even tragedy can take away.

Couple Takes Off On Trip From Nebraska To Alaska In A 1977 IH Tractor To Raise Money For Kids

Tue, 01 Nov 2022 22:16:55 GMT

Driving from Nebraska to Alaska isn’t a quick trip, but for Dick and Carolee Ourada, the trip will take nearly 60 days. That’s because the Ouradas are making the 3,910 mile trip in a tractor as a way to raise money for kids.

Dick is a retired farmer, and Carolee is a recently retired nurse. The couple is venturing back to Alaska after falling in love with the state decades ago. What’s normally a more than 50-hour drive from Holyoke, Colo., to Fairbanks, Alaska, will take them two months this time. The couple started in western Nebraska this week.

Why would anyone want to make the trip in a tractor? The drive across the western U.S., Canada and the Alaska Highway isn’t easy, and some would even call it grueling in a motor vehicle. The answer to that has a story that dates back to the 1970s when Dick started farming.

“To tell you the truth, I traded some shock absorbers from my small mechanic shop for a bred gilt and took her home, because I thought the kids would learn something from the experience of the piglets,” explains Dick. “And we built it into about a 3,000-head hog producing farm.”

Their family farm also grew sugarbeets, corn and wheat. As Dick battled through the farm financial crisis of the 1980s and the hog herd contraction many producers faced in the 1990s, the farm changed. He and his late wife then ventured into vegetable production.

“In order to stay afloat, we put in a small vegetable farm, which nobody did out here in farm country, but we did it anyway,” he says. “And it was very successful. We had 25 acres every year, and did sweet corn, tomatoes, seedless watermelons, which were new at that time, and peppers.”

Dick lost his first wife in 1996. After that, Dick’s world took a dark turn, as he said he didn’t want to farm anymore.

“I just didn’t want to be here anymore,” says Dick. “So, I sold the farm.”

Finding Purpose Again

In 2001, Dick found purpose again when he met Carolee. The two traveled to Alaska for the summer, as she was a traveling nurse, and they both fell in love with the state.

Fast forward a couple decades, and the couple purchased land and are refurbishing an Alaskan home. But as they searched for a tractor to use on their Alaskan land, they found that tractors aren’t only expensive, but hard to find in the state. So, they decided to buy one near their northeast Colorado house and shop, and drive it to Alaska from there.

The two found a tractor in Iowa that seemed to fit the bill for the job: a 1977 International Harvester 574 that they purchased for around $3,500 sight unseen.

“When this came along, we knew couldn’t go out on the highway; it wasn’t in that good of shape. It had been outside for a while, and it was pretty rusty. We had to do a lot of work,” says Dick.

After purchasing the tractor in February, the couple, along with some help from family and friends, spent five months fixing up the tractor that they named “Aggie.”

“We adapted cab from an Allis Chalmers xt170,” says Dick.

Instead of hauling the tractor to Alaska, which Dick and Carolee say would have been quicker, easier and cheaper, they’re driving the tractor there. The tractor has no air conditioning and can go a maximum speed of only 20 mph on the highway.

One challenge for their tractor trip is the immediate heat. As they head out this week, forecasts show 106-degree temperatures. However, Dick and Carolee don’t seem to mind it one bit, because this is more than just a trip.

“We’re not really looking at the challenges because we know we can deal with whatever comes,”
says Carolee.

Raising Money for a Reason

The couple has a plan to stop at pre-determined Case IH dealerships along the way, all in an effort to raise money.

“Carolee said, ‘What would we do with the money?’ And I said, ‘Well, this might be a good place to put it,’” says Dick.

The Ouradas are raising money for the Colorado Children’s Hospital Foundation, a hospital that saved Dick’s daughter’s life 58 years ago this week.

“She just refused to eat, and the doctors here spent three days trying to figure something out,” remembers Dick. “They told us put her in the car and go to Denver. Don’t stop or anything. Just go to Denver.”

At the time, there wasn’t a quicker way to get her there, so Dick and his late wife did just that.

“We dropped her off dying,” says Dick.

They couldn’t stay with their daughter in the nursery, so they left her in the hospital expecting the worst. By the next morning, their daughter had made a miraculous comeback.

“And it turned out that they had run into the same problem with premature babies that would refuse to eat,” says Dick. “And so they had done a lot of research to figure out why, and they came up with a special nipple, and she had taken to it immediately.”

The life-saving move may seem simple, but Dick says that to him, the Denver Children’s Hospital did something he will never forget.

“We owe the hospital a lot,” says Dick. “This is kind of a way to help pay that back.”

The idea also sparked meaning for Carolee, whose family had also experienced the life-saving services the Denver Children’s Hospital provide.

“My nephew was born with multiple congenital heart defects,” she says. “And through the years, they’ve researched and come up with new ways to help him. He’s in his upper 30s today and living a normal, productive life. But when they first took him up there, they weren’t even sure he was going to survive the first procedure.”

Both Dick and Carolee feel indebted to the hospital, so they set a goal of raising $100,000 as they make the 3,910 mile trip.

“There are so many kids out there that need the resources and the research that children’s hospital does,” points out Carolee.

The Ouradas admit they’re a long way from their goal as they start off on their two-month long trip. But with compassion, drive and awareness, they hope generosity will continue to sprout along their route and across the country.

To donate, the Ouradas have set up a website , along with a Facebook page . Carolee says they will continue to update the page throughout the trip.

Exclusive: Iowa Man Explains How He Miraculously Walked Out of a Grain Bin After Frightening 2-Hour Entrapment

Tue, 06 Sep 2022 19:28:13 GMT

Last week marked only the second time Justin Hudson and Mark Wilson have met. Hudson is a paramedic with the Centerville, Iowa, Fire Rescue, and Mark Wilson works on a local farm.

“You look a little bit different from the last time I saw you,” Hudson told Wilson.

“I appreciate everything that you did,” replied Wilson.

The first time Wilson and Hudson had met was a week prior on August 22, 2022, when Wilson was trapped inside a grain bin located outside of Moravia, Iowa.

“The beans on the north side of the bin were up to the eave, and I was trying to get as much as I could off the north side,” says Wilson. “But I ran out of a grain vac tube, it was as far as I could go. Then I tried to turn around and suck some around the door so we could get another door open. And that’s when things went bad.”

Soybeans Started Surrounding Wilson

Wilson has cleaned out grain bins more times than he can even count, but that day, he says, soybeans suddenly started to cave in around him.

“I knew I couldn’t ever free myself,” he remembers. “That inside door was open, and I grabbed ahold of it. And there was so much pressure that it was all I could do to hang on to that door,” says Wilson.

With grain up to his neck, and his hands still holding onto the door, Wilson was stuck. But then, he had an idea on how to get someone’s attention.

The Stick

“There was a stick inside the bin, and I was able to kind of lunge for it.With the length of it, I got it out the door about a foot, and I was just going like that (waving it?) and he finally saw it and shut the grain vac down,” Wilson remembers.

Wilson admits he didn’t even want to take his hand off the door to grab the stick, as he was afraid he would sink even more. However, he knew he had to get help as the pressure from the grain was growing more intense.

“It’s hard to explain but there was so much pressure around me. It’s just hard to explain,” says Wilson.

Call for Help

After trying a few things to help free Wilson, his co-workers called 911.

“The call went out, it was for a grain bin entrapment,” says Ryan Moore, a captain with the Centerville Fire Department and volunteer firefighter in Moravia. “He was responsive, hanging on to a rope. There were a couple farmers in there that had gotten some metal up behind him to help with the grain sloughing off so it wouldn’t cover him up and had gotten a rope around him.”

Wilson was located close to the door inside the grain bin, which also made the situation tricky.

“He was just approximately 2 feet in the bin from the door, so he had about 2 feet of grain between him and the doorway. And then it went up about 25 feet behind us,” explains Moore.

Wilson Remained Calm

Careful to not walk on the grain and cause more grain to cave in, Moore started asking questions of the victim.

“As soon as I started talking to him, he’s responding with just a calm demeanor and everything. He’s not getting his heart rate up. He’s not heavy breathing or anything. And I thought this was really good,” Moore recalls. “You try to remind them every once and awhile to stay calm, but with Mark I didn’t really have to because he was already calm.”

“When I first got in the grain bin I had a dust mask on, but then after awhile, they can see that I needed some oxygen and so they pulled that off,” says Wilson. They just said, ‘Yeah, we’re going to get you out.’ And I believed them.”

Paramedics Arrive on the Scene

As Wilson was given the reassurance that the rescue team was going to get him out safely, he continued to stay calm. In the meantime, Moore called outside for a grain bin rescue tube to help alleviate the pressure around Wilson.

“As soon as we got the grain tube around him, about that time is when the ambulance and the paramedics showed up, and he asked for a report,” says Moore.

“That day I was actually working for Centerville Fire Rescue,” says Hudson. “So, I was there as a paramedic. I was there for the EMS side of everything that was going on.”

Hudson is also a volunteer firefighter who had been trained multiple times on grain bin rescues, but this was his first.

“Wilson was by this door, but he’s a couple of feet from the door, and he’s got grain all around him. He’s buried up to his neck,” says Hudson. “So, I can’t get to him. I can’t do anything. I can’t give him any medications. I can’t necessarily get in there and start an IV on him.”

A Problem Securing the Grain Rescue Tube

As they tried to get the rescue tube around Wilson, the team discovered there was a problem.

“The grain vac tube was next to me, and that prevented them from getting the rescue tube down further,” says Wilson. “So, the beans that we were taking out, they were coming in about as fast underneath with all that pressure. It was kind of like flowing water.”

“With him being so far deep in our tube for the auger rescue equipment, I had to punt on that one and do a little different method,” says Moore. “We ended up having to auger it out and hold the bucket inside the tube instead of augering outside the rescue tube like it’s designed to do. We did it a little different, and it worked for a little bit, but then I think Mark came up with the idea for somebody to go get a shop vac.”

Wilson was able to use the shop vac to help relieve the pressure around his waist, but they then ran into another roadblock.

“Because once we got him loose enough, we were now below our grain bin rescue tube, so the grain from the backside that was piled up so high started sloughing off under the grain bin tube,” says Moore.

Forced to Cut Holes in Grain Bin

That’s when the team was forced to cut holes in the grain bin, with the first one across from the doorway.

“They did that, and then in the process of cutting the third hole, somebody called for another grain vac,” says Moore. “We got it in there. And now we’re vacuuming on the backside of the tube from two different holes, and it allowed us to gain on the falling grain.”

Between Moravia, Centerville and other fire departments, there were nearly 30 personnel on-site, all working to free Wilson.

“I’ve done enough rescues in different fashions that nothing ever goes the way you train, and you have to have a backup plan and a backup plan for your backup plan,” Moore says.

“Ryan was in there, and a co-worker was in there, and he was really valuable, because he kind of understood how grain flows,” says Wilson. “He saved my life. They all saved my life.”

Wilson Walked Out of the Grain Bin

Wilson walked out of the grain bin, and with a life flight on standby for nearly two hours, Wilson was taken to a Des Moines hospital out of precaution.

“I had so many beans in my pockets up there in the ER, and the beans were everywhere. I apologized, and they said, ‘Well, we’ve had this happen before, not that long ago, but you came out a lot better than the other gentleman.’ I was just lucky; thankful to be alive.”

Lucky to Be Alive

With soybeans still scattered on the floor of the fire department, there are constant reminders of the remarkable rescue that happened on August 22, as even those who rescued Wilson are still surprised he was able to go home from the hospital the night of the accident.

“I had in my head that ‘OK, we’ll get this guy out. That’s not the end of it, and it’s going to go bad.’ But it didn’t,” says Hudson.

Wilson’s close call is now a story of survival, and one the fire and rescue teams will never forget.

Close Call to Story of Survival: How a Missouri Farmer Beat Death After Trapped In Grain Bin for 2.5 Hours

First Responders Trained to Use Grain Rescue Tubes in Grain Bin Accidents

4-H Steer Sells 39 Times to Honor 18-Year-Old's Life

Wed, 17 Aug 2022 19:24:03 GMT

Daniel Spitzer had three loves in his life: Jesus, family/friends and cowboying. But his sister likes to joke that his true love was his horse, Lena.

“He just lived life to the fullest every day. He didn’t care what others thought of him. If he liked it, he went with it,” says Hannah Lonker of Pratt, Kan.

When a tragic ATV accident took Spitzer’s life on July 4, the entire community mourned one of their best gone too soon at the age of 18. He showed cattle at the Pratt County Fair and was active in 4-H horse, leadership and citizenship projects, too. He had been working with his steer all summer in preparation for his last county fair steer show.

It only made sense to honor Spitzer’s life by walking his steer into the sale ring during the Pratt County Fair 4-H Livestock Auction. What happened that day was nothing short of amazing, Lonker says.

Hands kept flying into the air while his younger sisters Haley and Samantha Spitzer walked their brother’s steer around the sale ring. His steer sold 39 times, bringing in more than $62,000.

“I honestly don’t have any other words to describe it. My family and I are completely blown away from the amount of support for Daniel’s Legacy,” Lonker says.

The $62,000 will serve as the foundation for Daniel’s Legacy , a mentoring support fund for youth in Daniel Spitzer’s memory, explain his parents, Brian and Loretta. They are setting up the program to help cover costs for youth to be able to attend camps, conventions, clinics, meetings and more. The program isn’t limited to Pratt County or even Kansas, his parents point out. They plan to build Daniel’s Legacy into a nationwide program, helping a variety of kids.

“The Pratt County community pulls together whenever there is a need. This summer has been a prime example of that. We are a small town that takes care of its own. I wish everyone could experience the love and support from small town Pratt, Kan.,” Lonker says.

Spitzer was well-liked by his peers, the Pratt Tribune reports. Fellow 4-Hers bid on Daniel’s steer, too, spending the money they had just earned by selling their own animals in the premium auction.

As his family moves forward, nursing broken hearts and crushed dreams, Lonker says they couldn’t make it without their faith.

“My family and I have faith and hope we get to see Daniel again. That’s what has kept us going, along with family and friends and our community who have prayed and supported us through this extremely hard time,” she says. “My family and I are cowboys, we’re tough as nails. We hurt, but we know that together we can get through this and one day we can see Daniel again.”

He was the best brother, Lonker says, and an example for others. She hopes their loss can be a reminder to others about priorities and the importance of community.

“He definitely was one of a kind,” she adds. “He never knew a stranger.”

Learn more about Daniel’s Legacy on Facebook .

Read More:

Community Rallies to Support 4-H Family, Buys Pig for $102,000

No, Showing Livestock Isn’t Always Supposed to Be Fun

By Her Own Hand: A Farm Girl’s Miraculous Journey from Death to Hope

Growing Deep Roots

San Antonio Barrow Show Winner Captures Hearts and Breaks Records

How Tosh Farms Is Equipping an Unlikely Source of Employees In the Sow Barn

From the Streets to the Swine Barn

An Inside Look At How One Veteran Turned First-Generation Farmer Finds The Proven Grit To Succeed

Thu, 11 Nov 2021 20:36:35 GMT

For first-generation farmer James (Jim) Yenter , life on the farm wasn’t the path he originally decided to take.

“I’m doing some things that I love to do,” says Yenter who now farms in Marengo, Iowa.

Now a farmer, his passion that started as a young boy from the city. He didn’t grow up in rural Iowa, but spending summers on a farm with his grandfather and uncle instilled a love for the land and profession.

“I like the freedom of it,” he says. “I guess back then it was no cell phones and if something screwed up, you had to figure it out on your own.”

Not large enough to support another family, farming isn’t something that happened right away. When Jim graduated and went to college, he actually left the dream of being a farmer behind. Instead, he joined the National Guard.

For a decade, Yenter served his country. With a dedication to service, he even conducted a tour in Afghanistan.

While the life of service was something he dedicated 10 years of his life to doing, after the10-year mark, he and his wife had a major decision to make.

“Well, we’re either going to stay in another 10 years and get that retirement, or it’s time to get out now, and my wife was like, ‘well, what do you want to do if you get out?’ I said ‘I want to farm.’”

And that’s just what he and his wife did. His desire to farm full-time turned into a profession. While he was already renting his grandfather’s old farm, the commitment reached a new level.

“It was that moment we made the cognizant effort and we were all in,” says Yenter. “It was extra motivation. I had to succeed. You know, technically I still haven’t succeeded.”

With a desire to succeed, Yenter knew in order to achieve the success he wanted, he needed to grow.

“I farm my grandpa’s 80 acres, and it was probably six or seven years before we got more farm ground after that,” he adds. “I let my farming practices speak for themselves and the landlords hopefully come to me.”

In order to make it work, today he’s growing non-GMO soybeans and waxy corn.

“We just try to do little things that keep adding up in order to make smaller acres pay for themselves.”

He’s also selling his cattle up the value chain, diving into the freezer beef and direct-to-consumer market. And it was that part of the first-generation business that got a boost during the pandemic in 2020.

“Our biggest increase that year was customers increasing their orders,” he says. “We had a lot of people that bought quarters that went up to a half. And we actually sold four whole beef this year where that’s the most whole animals we’ve ever sold.”

Yenter will be the first to tell you life as a first-generation isn’t easy, but for Yenter, it’s a life that’s satisfying.

“I’m doing things that God gave me a talent to do,” he says.

And now the U.S. veteran turned first-generation farmer is determined to share those gifts with the next generation.

“The goal is to have something to hand down.”

View the entire “Farming the First Generation” series:

First-Generation Farmer Gavin Spoor Proves Passion Pays Off

Growth in Moderation Helps First-Generation Farmer Jesse Daniels Focus on the Future

True Grit: A Tribute to Ranchers Who Weathered the Extremes This Week

Fri, 19 Feb 2021 20:52:20 GMT

The record cold temperatures and extreme weather had a major impact on ranchers across the country, but through it all, the men and women showed what the true definition of a rancher is.

pic.twitter.com/IAbxf5ArqA
— Mary Marsh Heigele (@ksualmondfarmer) February 17, 2021

The work of a rancher often goes untold. Cowboys and cowgirls wearing their work on their sleeves, but not always on their face. It’s hard work that often goes untold, but work you are often born to do.

Cold weather near Broadwater, Nebraska. pic.twitter.com/TdC4O9gcp8
— Paul Burgener (@PaulBurgener) February 18, 2021

Braving the extreme weather, enduring the frigid temperatures this week, putting your livestock before you. It’s a livelihood maybe you chose. Maybe it’s one you were born into, but no matter the path you took to get here, it’s a responsibility you don’t take lightly.

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— amber🌾 (@thegypsysroad) February 17, 2021

This week, you showed the true grit or a rancher. It didn’t matter the time of day, or night. Whether it was 3 in the morning, or 3 in the afternoon, you were there to make sure those newborn calves stayed warm, and in many cases, saving their lives, sometimes, there was nothing more you could do.

Bundled up! Was -6’... warmed to 18’ today here in MO! pic.twitter.com/ipqI1CCaYT
— Janet Crafton Creek (@JanetCrafton) February 17, 2021

It was a constant battle. Breaking ice so your livestock had water, checking on your cows at all hours, placing the priority on them. It’s each of you who put in way more than a 40 hour week, knowing just what had to be done to put your livestock first. Sleep may have been rare and sporadic this week. And the bitter cold that bit through your clothing reminded you just how tough of a career this really is. But you put in the work; work that not just anyone could do.

Grizzly Hell: USDA Worker Survives Epic Bear Attack

Wed, 27 Jan 2021 20:13:33 GMT

At the nauseating, audible crunch of bones breaking, 42 teeth of a grizzly bear’s jaws ground into Todd Orr’s body at 1,000 psi—enough pressure to crack a bowling ball. Pinned to the forest floor by 400 lb. of raw power and layered muscle, Orr felt scorching waves of pain surge through his nerves, shoot up his spinal column, and roar into his brain as the bear tore through flesh. Resisting the primal urge in every fiber of his being to scream and flail, Orr blanketed the agony with a phenomenal will to survive, and remained passive, listening to the macabre sounds of what should have been death.

Legendary. In the annals of survival history, Todd Orr’s account is incredible and magnified by a deuce: He skirted death in two separate grizzly bear attacks separated by mere minutes. Despite infinitesimally lean odds of emerging alive from multiple encounters, Orr staggered from the woods one hour after the attacks and recorded a surreal real-time video, and then drove an hour to a hospital to present his mangled body and half-scalped head to a bewildered medical crew. His chilling tale defies chance or coincidence, and touches a primitive chord. How deep will a man dig in order to stay alive, and how much pain will he endure? On Oct. 1, 2016, Orr answered the questions in harrowing detail.

Into the Woods

In the early hours of a fall Saturday in Bozeman, Mont., Orr , 50, arose from his bed at 4 a.m., bound for the wild, the same trip he’d made thousands of times across a lifetime spent outdoors. There was no moment of premonition; no odd itch of concern; and no portent to miss. He suited up in drab Carhartt pants and dark leather Alico hiking boots, donned a worn, navy blue baseball cap, grabbed a banana off the kitchen counter for breakfast, and exited his house—handgun in tow. Clockwork.

Waiting in the driver’s seat of a Toyota Tundra was an Osprey backpack lightly loaded with requisite gear: flashlight, duct tape, camera, GPS, lighter, Carson binoculars, Skyblade knife, fleece pullover and a Marmot rain jacket. An hour’s drive later, and still an hour before daylight, Orr pulled up to an empty trailhead parking lot, holstered a 10mm pistol, strapped a canister of UDAP bear spray to his chest, and began walking northeast with a dimmed headlamp to illuminate a dark trail, surrounded by some of the most breathtakingly beautiful terrain on the planet. He had no inkling of the hell to come.

Adrenaline Junkie

Born to the woods, Orr grew up on a fish hatchery outside Ennis, Mont., at the foot of the Gravely Mountains, roughly an hour from Yellowstone National Park, and spent a childhood beside the Madison River—dirt-biking, fly fishing, hunting and roaming the woods. Orr trailed his father’s steps on countless backcountry elk hunts, soaking in the nuances of scouting and exploration, and by age 12, had a bull elk under his harvest belt. A classic adrenaline junkie, Orr began bow hunting big game at 14, but less than a decade later, a snowboarding accident left him with two dislocated shoulders and permanently ended his ability to effectively draw a bow. Frustrated, but hungry for a challenge above a traditional rifle, he took up pistol hunting in 1987, buying a Ruger Super Redhawk .44 magnum. (As of 2020, Orr has harvested almost 30 bull elk, a moose, and numerous whitetail deer and antelope with the Ruger.)

In 1990, following completion of a degree in fish and wildlife management at Montana State University, Orr began working with USDA-US Forest Service in the ecology group, marking timber sales. Since 2005, he has served as a trail construction engineer—designing, locating and surveying new trails in the Custer Gallatin National Forest. Orr is in his element at every opportunity, weather permitting, working alone outdoors 12-15 hours each day for eight months of the year. An outdoorsman’s version of a polymath, Orr is renowned for meticulous artisanship in knife making as the bi-vocational owner and craftsman of Skyblade Knives , and carries a heavy interest in wildlife photography, frequently stalking game with a camera lens. All said, his outdoor work schedule and personal time spent hunting and exploring in the woods are a ready-made recipe to jack up the odds of an encounter with Ursus arctos horribilis—the grizzly bear.

Wrecking Ball

Darkness lifting and temperature warming to roughly 60 F, Orr stuck to the trail, with silent steps on moist, minimal foliage, further masked by the gurgle of a 1’-deep stream running a stone’s throw to his right. Orr’s intention was to cover as much ground as possible by daylight, and then climb up toward the timberline. At 5’8” and 170 lb., with a lifetime of hiking and exercise, Orr would be 5 miles deep and 9,000’ high in quick time.

Orr was on a scouting expedition for elk in the middle of bow season, several weeks prior to general rifle season, and hiking up Bear Creek in the majestic Madison Range—an 80-mile section of the Rockies running between West Yellowstone and Bozeman, shouldered west to east by the Madison and Gallatin rivers.

The rocky peaks of the area reach over 10,000’ in elevation and the lower hills are covered with dense forests of fir and pine hiding green, aspen meadows and crystal-clear springs. It’s a hiker’s, hunter’s or photographer’s dream world, but the beauty hides the mercurial side of Mother Nature, and fortune can change on a dime.

All things considered, Orr’s best chance to spot an elk would be just after sunrise, and if all went according to plan, he would finish the day with 20 miles on his boots, and possibly a camera full of photos. In addition, elk scat, tracks and rubs would reveal whether there was a strong number of bull elk in the area, and worthy of a hunt a few weeks later.

Continuing on the path, Orr frequently paused to offer vocal warnings: “I hollered out regularly to let any bears ahead know I was coming up the trail, giving them time to fade into the brush and avoid an encounter,” he explains.

An hour into the trek, just after daylight, the faint trail opened onto a long and narrow grassy meadow beside the stream, tucked between a low, brushy ridge to Orr’s left and the rise of a steep, timbered mountain on the far side of the stream. The post-dawn air was crisp and cool, moving up the valley on a slight breeze behind Orr and carrying his scent across the meadow.

Eighty yards ahead, at the far end of the meadow, a large sow grizzly bear was walking just in front of two cubs, moving down the faint trail toward Orr. Sows typically become pregnant once every three years, and cubs stay with sows for roughly two to three years after birth. Orr had chanced upon a mature female, likely close to 400 lb., with a potential lifespan of 20-plus years. In a suspended moment of time, the hump-shouldered sow and Orr spotted one another in the same instant, as both bear and man froze in motion. The sow turned west and ran over the low ridge—cubs on her heels.

“I watched and waited a minute or two,” Orr recalls, “before deciding she was long gone over the ridge, and I headed up the trail to the east, opposite of her direction. I assumed she was not fond of human contact and I would not see her again.”

Within two-dozen more steps on the trail, he heard a soft rustle of foliage and the slight snap of a branch over his left shoulder, and turned to see the sow. She had left her cubs and circled Orr, caught his wind, and was coming off the ridge, barreling through brush, grass and scattered trees at full speed, ears back and body low to the ground. In a blur, Orr was 40 yards away from an apex predator capable of covering roughly 15 yards per second—a 400 lb. wrecking ball of heavy bone and inordinate layers of muscle charging at 30 miles per hour.

Freight Trains and Water Balloons

Prior to 2016, Orr had seen hundreds of bears while hunting or working in the woods, and encountered several in close proximity on multiple occasions. At first blush, he assumed the charging sow would check up: “Most bears are usually just curious, and charges or attacks are very rare. In all the years I’ve spent in the woods, I’ve only had two bears that bluffed a charge, and none had attacked until 2016.”

Tucked into a chest holster on his left side, Orr carried a Rock Island Armory 10mm 1911 pistol, kitted with a Burris 2-7x32mm scope on a self-designed mount. The pistol was not Orr’s standard hunting choice, and he’d brought it on the off-chance an opportunity to harvest a wolf developed during the scout. The 10mm was relatively bulky with a 6” barrel, secured by a snap strap, and not conducive to quick-draw, lightweight bear protection.

With less than three seconds to spare, Orr instinctively reached for the 9 oz. can of bear spray strapped to the right side of his chest. “For the last 25 years, I only had the protection of bear spray while working at the Forest Service. I was not allowed to carry a firearm, so all my training, practice and thoughts were of bear spray and proper use.”

Still expecting a bluff charge, Orr removed the safety clip and raised the canister as the sow closed the gap. “I had practiced dozens of times for this moment, and hundreds of times in my head,” he says. Orr gave the sow a full blast of spray, turned his body sideways and went to ground for protection as the bear slammed into his body. Freight train through a water balloon.

Face in the dirt, hands clasped around the back of his head and forearms draped over his face and neck, legs drawn underneath, he was a toy in the possession of a capricious beast packing astounding physical prowess from head to tail: curved claws up to 5” in length, massive front paws sometimes 9”-plus wide and hind paws often over 1’ in length, a superb sense of smell far surpassing even bloodhounds, eyesight equivalent to humans, and a bite packing 1,000 psi, all wrapped in a physical package of outrageous core strength.

“As I hit the ground, she was immediately standing upon me with her front paws, and repeatedly bit my right arm and shoulder a half dozen times, before coughing and wheezing from the bear spray, and disappearing just as quickly,” Orr says.

In a blink, the sow was gone, and Orr rolled over to scan an empty meadow cloaked in bizarre serenity. All still. In a few, short seconds, the sow had delivered five to six quick bites along his right arm, and then sank 42 teeth deep into the top of his right shoulder. Orr was bleeding heavily, but had sustained a series of puncture wounds with no arterial or organ damage. At this point, Orr’s survival was a given—provided he could get out of the woods.

Rising to his feet, Orr hit the trail at a fast pace, bear spray in hand, heading for the safety of the truck. Adrenaline pumping, nerves frayed, he cast his eyes in wide sweeps, unable to hear much beyond his immediate surroundings due to the flowing creek. At that precise point in time, Orr believed he was heading toward his truck and safety, but what he didn’t know, and couldn’t know, was suited for fiction. After the initial attack, the sow hit the ridge and exited downward, while Orr hopped the trail to reverse course. Translation: Bear and man were set to cross paths again at the tip of a rough “V” pattern.

The lower 48 states house a total population of just 1,800 grizzly bears, according to US Fish & Wildlife. Incredibly, and against all probability, Orr was set to encounter the same bear twice in the span of minutes. Already in extreme need of medical attention and stitching, Orr was about to bounce from fryer to fire. Comparatively stated, the first attack was a scrape; the second attack was hell.

Razor’s Edge

In 1823, Hugh Glass endured the most famous grizzly bear attack in U.S. history, after stumbling upon a sow and two cubs in North Dakota. After a savage attack in which the mountain man was “tore nearly all to peases,” Glass survived a prolonged encounter, only to be abandoned by his comrades under the assumption of his impending death. A living corpse, Glass traveled 350 solo miles to safety to punctuate an astounding survival tale. His story was given silver screen treatment in 2015, and the trapper-mountain man was portrayed by Leonardo DiCaprio in The Revenant, a 2015 movie featuring the most stirring portrayal of a grizzly bear attack ever set to film.

Maybe Orr was born 200 years late. Whether planned, or random, as Orr believes, the second sow attack echoed elements of the primal rage displayed in the Glass account. With almost five minutes elapsed since the first attack, Orr made 800 yards of edgy progress on the downward path when he heard the clear crack of a branch over the din of running creek water. Peering over his left shoulder, he caught the blur of the sow in full stride 15’ to his flank, and felt a near-instant blow across his back that sent him sprawling 10’ forward; no time for spray, pistol or flight.

In physical form, it was the same sow from the first attack, but in demeanor she carried an entirely ramped up state of ferocity. Hovering atop Orr, she bit down on his left forearm, tearing away two tendons, ripping muscle and breaking the ulna. Orr groaned and instinctively drew his arm in, but his movement further enraged and excited the sow. “I remember the pain from her first bite into my left arm, and the sound of the bone breaking,” he describes. “I pulled my arm away and made an audible sound, which triggered the bear into a frenzied attack, biting, clawing, shaking and tossing me.”

Essentially, the bear was rag-dolling Orr, and he immediately recognized cruel necessity: Eat pain until the fury ebbs. “She would bite into me, pick me up with her mouth, and shake me back and forth until I was flung to the side into the dirt. The adrenaline and the will to survive took over and I blocked out all the pain after the first bite, and focused on staying quiet and still, while she continued to chew on me.”

At all times a single bite or swipe from death, Orr was stomped, picked up, thrown, dragged, clawed, and bitten by the sow over several minutes, yet he maintained his faculties and clung to a sole shred of hope: Take the punishment, emit no sound, show no resistance, and stay as close to the fetal position as possible.

After enduring body slams and inordinate shaking, along with 30 bites across his back, sides and arms, Orr went partially blind, his eyes filling with blood from a deep 5” claw gash above his right ear that split open his scalp. “There was no chance of fighting back against a beast like this. A grizzly can kill an elk or bison, and one wrong bite or swipe of her claws could crush my neck or skull, or rip me open to bleed out. A bear’s claws are very sharp when they emerge from the den in the spring. They are dulled, roughed and chipped over the summer and fall as they dig for food, but with the immense power behind them, the claws are still plenty sharp to rip most any animal to pieces.”

As the assault unfolded, an ironic fate was a razor’s edge from fruition: A man fortunate enough to survive one grizzly bear attack was fated to die minutes later from another, at the teeth and claws of the same bear. It was a dark, cruel humor, but Orr was having no part. His mind was hyper-focused on a single all-consuming target: life. “I don’t believe I ever felt fear or thought of death or family. I was too focused on survival and not moving or making a sound. Each time she would toss or roll me, I would instantly roll back to the face-down position to protect my vitals.”

Standing over Orr, probably convinced he was dead or dying, the sow’s fury subsided and she ceased the extremes of the attack, biting into Orr’s side and releasing, inadvertently turning his body closer to hers, allowing Orr, at the edge of his peripheral, bloodied vision, to have a surreal moment of near eyeball-to-eyeball contact with one of the most fearsome predators in all of nature.

The sow then dug into Orr’s lower back with her front claws, and again, sensing no movement or reaction, delivered the most hair-raising chill of Orr’s life, lowering her head to his back and breathing onto his neck, taking deep inhalations of his skin. Alternating between quick bites to his shoulder and more breaths to his neck for roughly 30 seconds, she stopped cold, and Orr waited for the coup de grâce that never came. After an eternity of minutes, Orr was alone and the woods were still one more time, save the gurgle of the adjacent creek.

Lazarus

Uncertain whether the sow had truly departed, Orr stayed in a fetal ball for 30-40 seconds and then unfurled his limbs, wiped the blood from eyes, and surveyed the scene. His gear was tossed about, including the pistol, which had been ripped off his side and thrown 15’. He immediately grabbed the gun from the holster, pulled the hammer back, and collected his backpack and bear spray. With the pistol tucked into the crook of his damaged left arm, and the spray at the ready in this right hand, Orr took a last look around—and spotted the worn baseball cap, crumpled on the forest floor. He reached down, grabbed the favored hat, and began what he knew was at least an hour walk even without blood loss and trauma. Move. Move. Distance. Distance. He could afford no assumptions: The sow could return at any point along the path.

“I hiked out at a steady pace, but not hurried or running,” he describes. “I didn’t want to increase my heart rate and the bleeding. My left arm did hurt terribly after the attack was over and the adrenaline subsided. The torn tendons, muscles and nerves felt like my arm was being crushed in a vice. I don’t believe I was ever in shock during the hour hike out. I was thinking straight and stopped to assess the wounds and check my bleeding two or three times.”

At approximately 8 a.m., Orr spilled out of the Bear Creek woods—Lazarus of the outdoors. Although one other vehicle had pulled into the parking lot, Orr stood alone, but safe. “Within 15 minutes after the attack, I was sure the bear wasn’t going to track me down for a third attack, but with 3 miles of wilderness to go, the thought of encountering a different bear on the trail did cross my mind. I would have been nearly helpless at that point with all my wounds. At the parking lot, I felt 100% safe and knew my injuries were not life threatening.”

Concerned about the safety of other hunters, and considering the bear’s agitation, Orr pulled a notepad from his truck and attempted to pen a word of warning. No dice. “My arm was dripping blood all over the note, so I gave up on the idea.”

Dropping the note effort, he grabbed his smartphone and shot several selfie photos, including one of the most unique survival videos ever filmed (destined for viral status), and it was stark, direct testament to a man with gravel in his gut. He spoke calmly into the lens about the grizzly encounter, almost as if the near-death experience was standard fare. “Yeah, life sucks in bear country,” Orr plainly stated at the beginning of the clip.

Simply, the video must be seen to be believed. “I’ve always had a high pain tolerance and the drive to push myself to succeed or overcome most anything, both physically and mentally,” Orr says. “I took the photos and video with just a couple of good buddies in mind. I really didn’t know how Facebook worked, and never expected more than a dozen friends to even see it. I seriously didn’t know what a viral video was until about 24 hours after posting it.”

Video in the can, it was time to tend to his wounds. A 30-minute drive down a jeep trail and gravel road, followed by 15 minutes of highway to the hospital, still lay ahead. Bloodied and bruised, adrenaline gone and his wounds aching, Orr climbed into the Tundra, performed the ironic task of securing his seatbelt, and left the sow in her realm.

Mouthful of Rocks

In the hospital emergency room, two doctors, one on each side of Orr’s body, set to stitching his wounds in tandem. Eight hours later, he walked out of the hospital and went home. (However, his injuries required surgery the following day for the broken bone, severed nerves, shredded muscles, and severed tendons.)

Six weeks after the incident, Orr returned to the scene. “I went back to the attack site with a buddy and faced my fears, knowing my life was meant to be in woods. The will to survive is strong and it’s amazing what the human body can endure in a survival situation. The attack, as well as watching my father fight cancer for the last 10 years, also reminds me of the importance of enjoying those things in life that make us smile.”

Five months after the attacks, while in the woods at work for USFS following snowmelt, Orr spotted a sow grizzly and a single cub at distance. His composure was steady, but the October memories were close and the anxiety heavy on his shoulders. Today, he still hunts the Bear Creek area, but no longer ventures out in the dark, and prefers snow cover due to paw print warnings pressed into the powder.

Orr now carries a backup, compact .44 magnum Ruger on his hip, but has no illusions about the additional pistol, or the efficacy of any pistol in stopping a grizzly. “A shot can also be effective, but take in consideration that the odds of killing or stopping a charging bear in its tracks are slim. A glancing blow, a hit to an extremity, or even a clean miss is likely, especially in a stressful situation like 400 pounds of teeth and claws coming at you at 35 mph.”

“And don’t just assume a pissed-off, charging bear will feel any pain from your bullet and run away. I was being chewed on for 2 minutes and felt no pain after the first bite and adrenaline rush. And wild animals have a much higher pain tolerance.”

Roughly once a year, the angry sow returns—in Orr’s dreams, but he wakes each time before she attacks. “The incident is a reminder that our lives are fragile and the most unlikely events can happen to anyone. Every single day, something reminds me of that day I was attacked and it will forever be remembered.”

Indeed. In a humble manner, Orr downplays his actions on the morning of Oct. 1, 2016, but the depth of his mettle is betrayed by the video footage. Mouthful of rocks. The camera shows a man matter-of-factly describing two escapes from the brink of death—no hype, theater, or bravado.

Again, how deep will a man dig in order to stay alive , and how much pain will he endure? Ask Todd Orr.

For more, see:

Rat Hunting with the Dogs of War, Farming’s Greatest Show on Legs

Misfit Tractors a Money Saver for Arkansas Farmer

Predator Tractor Unleashed on Farmland by Ag’s True Maverick

Government Cameras Hidden on Private Property? Welcome to Open Fields

Farmland Detective Finds Youngest Civil War Soldier’s Grave?

Descent Into Hell: Farmer Escapes Corn Tomb Death

Evil Grain: The Wild Tale of History’s Biggest Crop Insurance Scam

A Skeptical Farmer’s Monster Message on Profitability

Farmer Refuses to Roll, Rips Lid Off IRS Behavior

Killing Hogzilla: Hunting a Monster Wild Pig

Shattered Taboo: Death of a Farm and Resurrection of a Farmer

Frozen Dinosaur: Farmer Finds Huge Alligator Snapping Turtle Under Ice

Breaking Bad: Chasing the Wildest Con Artist in Farming History

In the Blood: Hunting Deer Antlers with a Legendary Shed Whisperer

Corn Maverick: Cracking the Mystery of 60-Inch Rows

Blood And Dirt: A Farmer’s 30-Year Fight With The Feds

Against All Odds: Farmer Survives Epic Ordeal

Agriculture’s Darkest Fraud Hidden Under Dirt and Lies

Farmer Overcoming Horrific Harvest Accident with Positivity and Faith

Wed, 23 Dec 2020 22:08:55 GMT

The holidays and starting a new year is always a great time to reflect on life’s lessons and count the reasons to be thankful. For one Indiana woman, it’s a second chance to spend time with friends and family.

Laurie Hayn lives and farms with her husband in Marshall County, Indiana. This past season, the avid hiker and mountain climber, faced a horrific accident on just their second day in the field.

Laurie had climbed out of the tractor she was driving while pulling the grain cart. The combine driver didn’t see her out in the field. When he did, it was too late. She lost an arm and a leg but says that God saved her life.

AgDay-TV Reporter Betsy Jibben and photojournalist Russ Hnatusko share her story in the video above.