One of the toughest challenges I faced during our recent bout of “global warming” was to keep the ponds open enough for the cattle to have fresh water. The first morning wasn’t too bad when I chopped a roughly four foot by six foot hole in the ice, but after more than two weeks of near-zero morning temps, the hole had become not much more than a one by one indentation that allowed one cow a time to quench her thirst. It made me wonder if there wasn’t an easier way to get the job done, when I remembered a couple of stories from neighbors and friends.
RC has a farm truck that has long been recognized as the ugliest, junkiest, most beat-up farm truck within a 100 mile radius. It is a 3/4 ton, 4-wheel drive truck with a hydraulic bale unroller and a half-ton, auger-driven feed dispenser on the back. The old rust-bucket is a 70s model that was mostly worn out by the 80s, but somehow continues to make the daily rounds of feeding and checking cattle. RC, known far and wide for always taking the “easy” way of doing things, opens ponds up with this truck. “The correct procedure,” he states, “is to get a running start from the top of the slope and angle the truck so that only the passenger side of the truck goes out on the ice and breaks through. By the time the wheels break the ice, you have enough speed built up to make it on through to solid ground.” RC claims the method has only failed him once.
A couple of winters ago, on a 5-below morning, RC sighted in the old truck for his “ice-breaking” chore. He built up the proper speed as he approached the ice-covered pond, but just an instant before the passenger side wheels were to make contact with the ice, the drivers-side rear wheel hit a large, frozen cow pile. The sudden bounce caused the truck to skid completely out onto the pond, about 20 feet from the bank, where the weight of the truck with two round bales and a completely full feeder, broke through the ice into about four feet of frigid water. RC still maintains that the wade to the shore and the cost of the wrecker to winch him out hasn’t offset the “convenience” of never having to chop ice with an axe.
The other example comes from two old friends and former students from many years ago. Chadd and Steven are cousins whose fathers run a huge cattle operation. When they were in their early teens, a snow-day from school meant they were the ones in charge of chopping ice on the ponds. Since neither of them were old enough to legally drive on the highway, this chore was a great adventure since their fathers were more than happy to let them take one of the feed trucks, by themselves, to go from pond to pond to chop ice. I’ve never found out which one of them came up with the idea (although I’ve got a pretty good idea), but after about six ponds, they came to the obvious conclusion that, since they had a 4-wheel drive truck, they could simply drive the front-end out on the pond far enough that the front wheels would break through and then back out. This would accomplish their “job” without the hassle of getting out and freezing their collective butts off, chopping the ice with an axe. They also concluded that the Dads would never be the wiser as long as the cows had open water. Everything worked to plan for the first couple of ponds.
By the third pond, the boys were feeling pretty good about their new-found skills, probably laughing at how stupid their fathers had been for “chopping” ice all those years. They had the radio cranked up, belting out tunes and, most likely, singing along. As they slowly drove out onto the ice, the heavy weight of the front end broke through the thick ice. As previously done, the driver (to this day, neither has admitted which one was behind the wheel) floored the accelerator to back out of the muddy pond. Unfortunately, the inexperienced driver had forgotten that the truck was still in “drive.” The powerful truck, locked in 4-wheel mode, lurched farther out into the pond from which there was no return. The ice was so thick and heavy against the doors, they couldn’t open them, so their only recourse was to crawl out the windows, onto the bed of the truck where they could get a running start and jump “almost” all the way to the bank. One of them walked the mile-and-a-half back to the barn and brought a tractor back to pull out their mistake. Their fathers, busy feeding cattle at other farms, never learned of the boy’s adventure – until now, of course.
I’m pretty sure I’ll just keep breaking ice the old-fashioned way.
Jerry Crownover farms in Lawrence County. He is a former professor of Agriculture Education at Missouri State University, and is an author and professional speaker. To contact Jerry, go to www.ozarksfn.com and click on ‘Contact Us.’
