She came in the shadow of her big sister, Katrina, and wreaked havoc on the Cajun gulf coast of Louisiana. Her name was Rita. It was September 24, 2005. Whereas Katrina was like pouring water on a city in the bottom of a bucket, Hurricane Rita was her own 100-mile-wide tsunami. Livestock producers across the country have been ravaged by fire and blizzard and drought; the backside of Louisiana was not spared. A massive wall of seawater forged its way up the canals and bayous into the lowlands along the coast across the southern belly of Louisiana, sweeping megatons of natural and man-made refuse inland for miles. It picked up houses, boats, cars, barns, fences, horses, cows, goats and wildlife as far as it could reach, then turned on its head and returned seaward, a monstrous backhand that was a thumb in the eye to man’s meager attempt to control the waters.
Like those ranchers in Texas and Colorado, unsung heroes in Louisiana rose among us from the crisis. During the immediate flood and chaos, hundreds of neighbors, citizens, firemen, peace officers, shrimp fishermen and cowboys scoured the muddy water for human survivors. Miracles happened. Lives were saved.
Stories abound of buildings sailing, boats rising through rooftops and round bales floating like giant marshmallows, carrying all manner of animal passengers. A whitetail deer and an alligator were spotted together placidly riding a round bale, headed north on the surge lookin’ for dry ground. Soon the water was dotted with the carcasses of cows and horses. Coastal fishermen and oil riggers said the sea was rife with them.
For 29 days, cattlemen engaged in a communal effort to gather loose cows and bring them to a central point. Thousands were gathered and sorted; many more thousand were lost. Seawater sat on the leveed pasture grass until reconstruction and pumping could empty them. It was a massive effort. Then the land was parched by a long drought.
Today, not two years later, many of the pastures are still showing serious signs of salinity. It is possible it could be long-term. Imagine 50 percent of your pasture ruined overnight. Rice won’t grow, crawfish can’t live, cows can’t eat, and then this spring the rice farmers are told the USDA has put a hold on the variety that is used by many of them. Job’s name comes up often.
Help has come. The Fellowship of Christian Farmers (www.fcfi.org) and others have helped rebuild fences, barns, canals, bridges, corrals, even houses, though many locals still live in FEMA trailers. I went. Life goes on, but I have a new appreciation of the struggle they face – financially and psychologically. They are like soldiers after a war.
Yet they are blessed by having one another. It is a rural community of many generations whose roots run deep. They hold a strong Catholic belief and a Cajun love of life that lets them find moments of peace amidst the heartache. Those that received a kindness or a helping hand are determined to pass it on. They are resurrecting their lives.
La bonne chance, mes amis, et le Dieu bénissent. PD
