Jenny Stortz and her husband coordinated donations and fundraisers, and personally delivered feed and supplies to Nebraska farmers affected by the flooding this spring. This is her story, in her own words. 

Farming is very personal for us as we both farm, my husband full time, myself part-time (I’m a full time nurse).  We both grew up on farms raising cattle, we look forward to planting and harvest and we both enjoy being a part of the agricultural community.  This really hit home for us.  We didn’t stop to think if this was something we should do, we started talking about what can we do, when can we do something, how can we help, where can we help.  It was almost a knee-jerk reaction…we realized they needed help and we started talking about ways in which we could help them.  We know if the tables were turned, they would be there for us.   

Sunday April 7^th, 2019 

We found our way to the next stop where we met the owner of the farm on the road. Not sure he knew what to think as he saw a semi with a cargo trailer leading the small convoy of three, as most our other volunteers were headed for home. 

“I see you have some supplies for me.” he said. “How about I just load up my cows on a trailer and just give up…” he said.  

“We don’t want you to do that,” Nick replied, “that’s why we’re here.” 

These guys had lived through the “100 year flood” less than 10 years ago, just to re-live the “100 year flood” again this year. The stories and videos they shared of water rushing through fields making them look like lakes, and water rushing over roads was insane. Hard for us to imagine as we talked on that 65-degree sunny day. 
Like others we had helped that day, they were no strangers to the challenges that life brought. They did their best to hold back the emotion when we talked about the hay and supplies we brought them. They were so thankful and I’m pretty sure if one of us started crying, we all would have been crying.  
We were lucky to have been informed that their neighbor could also likely use supplies. They called him up and he came down. He sorted through and was able to take some needed items home to his cattle, too.  
After most of the sorting was through, I got my chance to go take a peek and photograph the one thing I had my eye on since I got there– the 460 Farmall. 
“You don’t want to take pictures of that old thing!” he said.  
Of course I replied, “You have no idea how much I love old tractors! Especially when they’re red!”  
One thing we agreed on, those old handles have a lot of stories to tell.  
Not only being one of the nicest couples we could have met, they fed us supper and gave us a place to stay for the night, too. While the goal was to get to bed early and have a good night’s rest, it was a late night for most. I don’t think you’d hear any complaining though, as it was filled with stories, jokes and some good conversation around their old family kitchen table. Felt like it was where we were just meant to be that night. We left that morning with bellies full of breakfast, new friends, and warm hearts knowing we had been led to the right place. 
We drove down to the neighbor’s, chatted with him, looked at his cows, of course, took advantage of them being so photogenic, maaaaybe did a little wheelin’ and dealin’… then headed on our way to the next stop.  
 

Monday April 8^th, 2019 

This place made news as the 800+ acre farm that was completely covered under water from the overflowing Platte River. You’ll see tiny islands of cattle, the house, some buildings and trees.  
I asked if he knew it was under water before seeing it on the news. He said “I got a text message from my sister saying there’s a video of Fremont completely under water. She said, I think it’s the farm.”  
And it was.  
The stories this rancher has are unbelievable… disturbing… scary… heartbreaking.  
I first connected with this rancher Sunday morning. I called to talk to him about a hay delivery it sounded like he could use. I asked what else he thought he needed, asked about fencing supplies and vet supplies. Like everyone else, there was no astounding “yes, we need supplies.” We sent out trucks of hay on Sunday and I told him we could probably deliver some fencing supplies on Monday and he was ok with that.  
I called him Monday and asked if he was still interested. Again, not a strong yes but said he would use what we were able to supply him with. We had to drop the hay at a location off the farm on Sunday since the roads were so bad, but when I talked to him Monday he said we could probably make it to the farm, that there had been trucks in and out. If the roads were “better” when we drove on them, I could only imagine what they were like before. I came to find out later those trucks on the road he mentioned were hauling the dead livestock away from his farm.  
You know it’s serious when one of the first things you see when you pull in the driveway is a rescue airboat parked on the farm. What we didn’t realize when we got there was the extreme devastation this farmer and his family actually had going on. I walked down a mile or so of dirt road, completely shocked at how things had been destroyed. Dirt cut and carved out, trees uprooted, feed bunks thrown around, a stream of water still rolling through. “There’s about 40 bunks buried out there” he said later that night… I think I saw about 10. 
But these things were absolutely nothing compared to what we saw later. 
When we finished unloading supplies we took a quick ride around his farm. We asked him if he wanted to come. We realized later why he told us to go on without him. 
‘How many cattle do you think are out there?” I asked after we returned. 
“Probably about a thousand…” he said. 
Completely shocked, I asked “of dead cattle?!” 
“Yeah…” he answered as he started going into detail about the numbers he had and the numbers he figured he lost.  
Dead cattle scattered around like a handful of confetti that had been thrown up into the air and fallen back onto the floor… strewn across over 200 acres. Stuck along fence lines, buried in brush, shoved up against corner posts, mangled in the trees. We saw a small handful of this mess.  
It was absolutely, heartbreakingly, unreal….  
He talked with Mike about the ridge out in the pasture. As the water rose, the cattle went to the ridge. As the water continued to rise, and the current continued to strengthen, the ridge was compromised. Little by little, the ridge was taken out. And cattle dropped into the water. Swept away to their death. 
The only thing I could come to mutter while we drove through the disaster zone was “oh my God… oh my God…oh.. my… God…” There were no words we could use to describe what we were seeing.  
We had heard about it… dead cattle hanging in trees, stuck along fences or mangled in brush, dead cattle half buried in sand, acres of land completely taken over by sand… acres of land covered in sand that was 3 to 6 feet deep, covering pastures and fences. Hearing it was one thing. Seeing it… seeing it was so much of another thing.  
And this rancher had all of that… hundreds of cattle gone, many to never be found…. feet of sand over almost all of his pastures and fields. So much sand we could barely see the tops of fence posts. We could barely see the fence lines at all. So much sand it covered the wheels on the irrigation system. So. Much. Sand.  
The future for this generation farm and farmer has so many questions now. 
“I can see the river from my house, I never used to be able to… it’s kind of an eerie feeling, seeing that. Scary.” 
I asked him if he evacuated and he said yes. When asked how long he was evacuated for, “Two weeks,” he replied. “We just moved back in the house a week ago Thursday. It was really hard on the kids.” Between the roads and driveway getting washed out, it was a challenge for them to get home sooner.  
When they evacuated everyone took something to the road. 
“I led with my bulldozer to make sure there were no holes in the ground.” 
An end loader and tractor followed and last was the truck, in it, the rest of his family.  
“The water was over the hood of the truck. That’s when I got scared. We should have left sooner. There were kids in there, you know.”  
On this ranch, his fences were completely destroyed and wiped out. Miles and miles of fence that need replacing. He said he wouldn’t be surprised if it wouldn’t happen until June, as wet as it was.  
He was hoping to get some seed to plant in the lots next to his cattle, he’ll need feed after summer grazing is done. He mentioned how he was already worried about the fall coming, saying they might have to sell some cows. Their fields will never be planted this year. I’d be surprised if they’re planted next year. He’ll be buying feed or selling cows. I think his decision is already made if he gets to that point.  
His goal right now is to get the cows to pasture. They typically take them to central Nebraska to graze. He’s hoping by the second week in May they can go, if not sooner. The feed he has now has been soaked in feet of water. He’s hoping tests may show it still has some value. He’s being challenged by sick calves, often unable to keep them alive, spending time and money to treat and care for them, only to lose them in the end. Stress, change, and no mommas are hard on a newborn baby calf. Not to mention a farmer. 
And like everyone else we met, he was humbled and thankful we did what we could. Us, we felt like we didn’t do nearly enough, knowing there will be struggles and challenges, there will be unanswered questions, and that the future he is looking into is so unknown.  
“One day at a time,” he said quite often. “We’ll just take it one day at a time. We don’t have any other choice.”  

Update Sept. 9, 2019 

We STILL have funds that we are looking to use up, spending it like we did in the spring on supplies from our local stores, and delivering it to specific individuals.  Right now, we have over $10,000, which is so impressive, considering all of that was donated after we came back.  It’s been a challenge returning since my husband farms full time, and I work full time and the summer has been busy as well as into fall now.   

We are looking forward to going back, hopefully with a lot of our same crew.  It was really neat hearing their expressions of how they felt good giving like they did.  I think it was an eye-opening experience for most if not all, considering the majority hadn’t done anything like that before.  Everyone from our group got the chance to interact with one or more of the individuals we helped who went through the flooding, hearing their stories, and seeing the devastation.  It really adds to the reality of the situation and why we wanted to help.  It was an extremely busy two weeks of preparation leading up to our deliveries, but made the reward was well worth it.  

Ord, Nebraska 

August 12, 2019 

We’ve never seen so much rain in our whole life. 

 It didn’t stop with the bomb cyclone—it just continues.  

We keep thinking if it would straighten out, you could make plans and adjust, get things to somewhere normal. We’re on plan E and F. 

Everything’s a question.  

We continue to get a lot of rain—it’s like a waterfall. The bridges are up to the very top. So you make adjustments.  

I won’t send you the pictures of piles of dead calves. A lot of cows ended up abandoning their calves. Our neighbor had 120 bucket calves. They knew the storm was coming so they took the calves off the cows to put them in shelter. The cows wouldn’t take them back. It’s so unusual. Everything is not as it should be. 

There’s no capacity in any of the dams. Either they totally filled up or washed out. Some of them don’t even have water sometimes, and now they’re 20 feet deep. The soil has no more holding capacity; it’s totally saturated. Any rain we get runs off. There’s no place for it to go. 

It’s taking a lot longer to do things than it used to. Everybody’s in the same boat. It’s just difficult with all the rain  

We got maybe 60 percent of our fields planted altogether. We were planning on getting more corn in. Then you shift over to beans. When you didn’t get the beans in you plant the sunflowers or something. We can’t plant the forage sorghum. Now we’re at rye. If we keep on like this, we’ll be back at wheat this fall. You throw your hands up and say enough’s enough.  

We don’t have to irrigate the corn we did get in. 

It’s disheartening. We’ve never had to deal with something like this.  

You talk to the neighbors, some are really down and you try to encourage them, help them look at the good things in life. It won’t be this way forever. There are good things that can come from it.  

Financially, it’s pretty straining. Older farmers have made it through a lot of tough times, some younger ones haven’t gone through those. Younger ones who haven’t gone through that, don’t know how to get out of it. You market different. Plant something different. There are a lot of different options. Gloom and doom is all they can see. Bankers are saying they can’t go with you, mostly for the younger ones. If you made it through the ’80s it kept that generation out of trouble. You don’t expose yourself to that kind of risk if you can help it. Sometimes an expansion has taken place, and if you do that at the wrong time, it will catch you. 

There are good things, you just have to count every day. Sometimes you have to back up and not look at the big picture, but look at the smaller picture. There are little blessings that come by every day. If you look for them, you’ll see them. You have to change your focus on some things and count the little things that are positive. We’re trying to see those things, and not be overwhelmed by the bigger picture that can look pretty bleak, but concentrate on the little things that are positive and build on those. 

Dirty laundry on the floor. Folding chairs leaned up against a tree. These threads of normalcy were welcome lifelines for the Wolfe family of Richland, Nebraska when they returned to their farm and ranch after evacuating during the flood that started March 14, 2019. 

“There was water all the way around our house, but none in the house,” said Kristi Wolfe. “The first time we got to come in the house the dirty laundry was still sitting where I’d left it. The things we left behind when we did leave that Thursday were completely normal. Outside there was nothing normal. It was a very surreal feeling to walk in the house and see everything was just fine.” 

On the banks of the Platte River the family had set up a camping spot that they shared with friends. They would grill while the kids played in the river. “There were two folding chairs leaned up against a tree. They’re still there. We have no idea why,” Wolfe said. 

Wolfe’s husband, Drew and his father had said it would never flood. “We’d had minor floods, but nothing this all-consuming.” 

The flood dropped several feet of silt on productive cornfields, burying parts of pivots. There was mud in the calving barn, bunkhouse and other outbuildings. Concrete feedbunks from the feedyard were shoved around and half-buried. 

They don’t even know where 1,000 head of cattle ended up. While a lot of them washed away entirely, plenty still had to be disposed of. And they had cattle in their fields that they’d never seen before, washed in from who knows how far up the Platte River. 

“As overwhelming as the devastation was, equally overwhelming was the love, kindness and help people shared with us,” Kristi said. “I honestly can’t say how things might have gone if it hadn’t been that way. Every time we needed something, someone showed up with what we needed. Hay, meals, fencing supplies. Things came from everywhere. People came from Arkansas, two cowboys from Louisiana came up for 11 days. People from all over helped out, plus people from Nebraska and our neighbors.” 

Every day was a new challenge, Kristi said. Things they’d taken for granted, like being able to safely drive down the road or across a field, were suddenly dangerous.  

One of Kristi’s nephews, in his early 20s, was helping gather cows and saw a calf struggling in a mud puddle. He jumped in to save the calf and went all the way under.  

The next day a friend brought her horse out to help and they went into one of those hidden puddles. She said she knew it was time to bail off when the horse’s head went under water.  

“Thankfully both of those turned out okay. There were so many things we didn’t know,” Kristi said. “Some of that sand was like quicksand.” 

Their daily routine is over now, and likely to never be the same again. “I keep saying it’s a new normal, but none of it feels normal,” Kristi said. “Things still take longer than they used to. We’re slowly getting the feedlot put back together, hoping to take some feedlot cattle this fall. Thankfully our pairs were almost ready to go out to grass. Normally we’re chopping silage by now. We’ve had more rain over the last couple days, so that puts things even further back. It’s a different process of the daily things that happen.” 

Standing in their yard looking at a landscape so foreign it might as well have been the moon, they knew they needed help, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. “The first call we had about donated hay I knew my husband would have a very hard time,” Kristi said. “It was very hard for me. That first ‘yes’ was the absolute hardest. You cry afterwards, thinking ‘what if somebody else needs this more than we do?’ You know you’re going to struggle, but we can’t do this by ourselves. At some point you come to realize you can’t do it on your own. People were incredible.” 

A group from Michigan brought Easter baskets in April for their kids, and others. “There were so many thoughtful things,” Kristi said. A group from York, Nebraska knew it was going to be Kristi and Drew’s daughter Alyse’s eighth birthday and they got some gifts together. “There were a lot of really amazing personal things like that.” 

Wolfes have spent nearly six months getting things put back together enough to function and hopefully collect a paycheck of some sort. Their banker has been supportive through the whole ordeal. “The bank has been amazing,” Kristi said. “They’ve continually asked what they can do, how they can help.” 

The bank had funds set aside they put toward the recovery, which allowed the Wolfes to rent an extra skidloader when they needed to get a lot of things moved.  

But Kristi knows there are some difficult conversations down the road. “We haven’t had to make any definite decisions about permanent things that will need to be changed. The bank has been very good about knowing this is going to take some time to figure out.”  

The Wolfes have also gotten some help from Nebraska Farm Bureau and Nebraska Cattlemen, both organizations that helped coordinate donations.  

“It’s hard to be on the receiving end of everything we’ve been given,” Kristi said. “Prayers, supplies, meals. You can never say thank you in an adequate way. It would have been an even bigger struggle if all those people hadn’t stepped in out of the goodness of their hearts. It was overwhelming, just the feeling of love and care that people were providing us with. You hear all the bad things, but we know there’s amazing goodness, because we’ve seen it.”