Flooding

When I was a kid, my dad sheared sheep for a living. Beginning in March, he would travel around to different places to shear sheep in advance of the lambing season. He usually started out with local jobs and those where he could be home every night. Gradually, he would travel farther away, until he took the camper trailer and was officially on the road. Around the beginning of May, my mom would make preparations for us to join him. She would call the utility companies to have our service status changed to "vacation", make arrangements to have our mail forwarded to my aunt, and talk to the school about the fact that my brother and I would be finishing the year early. By the middle of May, we would join the crew, usually somewhere in northern Utah. We would spend the next six weeks in Idaho, Montana and Wyoming.

And so it was that we came to be just outside of St. Anthony, Idaho at the beginning of June, 1976. The adults had heard that the nearby Teton Dam, an earthen dam, was failing. St. Anthony was not in danger, but they thought it wise to go into town and stock up on supplies. In addition to provisions, they returned with all sorts of things that stores had been selling at disaster prices rather than have their inventory washed away. Then, they climbed up on the roof of the shearing rig, about the height of a semi, and watched through binoculars as the dam was breached, spilling the contents of the lake into the river valley below.

For the next few days, the families of the crew members back home would not know if we were OK. They knew we were in the approximate area, but we were unable to get to anywhere with a phone to let them know we were OK. My cousin Clint and two other crew members were stranded in Rexburg, a town downstream from the dam that was pretty much destroyed, for more than a week before they were able to return.

Most of the land that was flooded was farmland, not range land, and I don't remember if anyone we knew in the area was directly affected by the flood as far as property damage. I do remember the strange sights the next time we drove into town to run errands. What used to be hay fields were now filled with water. I remember seeing a bloated cow, feet in the air amid the other floating debris. I remember that the crew finished the job and that as soon as we were able we moved on to the next location.

I sometimes wish I could remember the details of that extraordinary event, but it's probably good that a seven year-old didn't really witness such destruction. It's probably good that I have a healthy respect for the power of nature. It might explain why, when it comes to nature, I believe mankind is better off learning to exist within it rather than trying to change it to meet our needs. Alas, there will always be people who think it is easier to control the external environment than it is to change their own habits or expectations.

I should quit while I am ahead, since I often fit into that latter category. I will end by saying I really do wish I could learn to use binoculars.