Bridge Over Peace Creek Water

 

You remember the story of the Three Billy Goats Gruff from your childhood, right? The three billy goats wanted to get from one meadow to the next. But, in order to make the trip, they needed to cross a wooden bridge with a big troll stationed under the bridge, wanting to eat them up. 

The little goat's hooves went Trip-Trap, Trip-Trap as he crossed the wooden bridge. He told the troll something bigger and tastier would come along. So, the troll allowed him passage to the other side. 

The middle-sized goat's hooves made a Trap-Rap, Trap-Rap sound as he crossed the bridge. He, too, did a bit of fast-talking and outmaneuvered the ravenous troll, throwing the bigger goat under the bus - or under the bridge, so to speak.

And the big goat hammered out a Stomp-Tromp, Stomp-Tromp as he crossed the bridge and also outwitted the lurking troll. (In some versions, there's violence involved and the troll's untimely demise. We'll just keep it to the PG version for our purposes and say that all the billy goats arrived and were able to graze on greener pastures.)

The wooden bridge over Peace Creek always made me think of that story, especially when its planks were struck by dozens of cattle hooves pounding their way across it during one of our many cattle-moving days. 

 

   

The bridge - located a couple of miles north of our house - has been a conduit from 4th Street Road to our house for me for 40 years. It was the start of the route to visit the library in Hutchinson and other destinations there. But, more importantly, it was the route to get to much of our farm ground and pastures.

Randy grew up less than a half mile from the bridge, so it's been a life-long centerpiece for him. Besides being a "thoroughfare" for our farming operation, it was a childhood location for the Fritzemeier kids to meet the Hornbaker cousins for a little neighborly fun.  

This was a photo taken by my late brother-in-law, Lyle. It shows part of the bridge in fall.

 

When Randy's brother Lyle died in September 2020, I posted the photo above, and mentioned the excursions to the Peace Creek bridge. I got this response from one of those neighbor "kids:"

Oh the stories to tell of deeds done here! The famous rocket tree, picking leeches from between our toes, the nest of owlets beneath the bridge, fishing with string and a safety pin and never understanding why we were such unlucky fishermen, and the hundreds of miles racing our bikes down those sandy roads.

Pam Hornbaker Turner

Since April 22 this spring, the Reno County Public Works department has been working on the bridge, so we've had to detour from our normal route. 

As I looked for photos of the bridge, I realized I've probably taken more photos from the bridge than I've taken of the bridge. 

Taken from the bridge on a spring/summer day.

October 2018, when we got an overabundance of rain.

 

A winter scene from the bridge.

But a Kim's County Line blog search did yield several images of this important way we've gotten from Point A to Point B throughout the years - spring, summer, fall and winter.  

One of the public works guys told Randy on Tuesday, August 5, that it would only be a couple more weeks before they are done. None of us who live along the route are going to bet on that completion date. But I guess it's something they can aspire to, right?

Photo by Randy - May 4, 2025

Since the April start date, Randy has taken periodic trips to check their progress. His first one was taken on May 4.

Shelby, and her husband, Justin, bought Melvin and Marie's house. Shelby, too, has chronicled the bridge progress on her Facebook page.

Photo - Shelby Bremer

 Her first photo was taken on May 9.

Photo by Shelby Bremer

Shelby's photo on May 14.

Photo by Shelby Bremer

 Shelby's photo on May 21.

Photo by Shelby Bremer

 And Shelby's photo on July 11 (above).

The photo above was taken by Randy on July 17.

On August 5, Randy watched as they craned one of the spans into place.

 

 That's when the worker optimistically said the bridge would be in place in the next couple of weeks. 

Morning of August 7, 2025

 

 

 

 

 

They'd made a lot of progress when we checked again on August 7.  

However, no longer will there be that clomping sound as cattle walk over the bridge. With this rendition of the bridge, there's no wood. I'm guessing it will hold up better in the long run.

 

We neighborhood people are definitely ready for its completion.  Don't get me wrong: I'm glad they worked on it. Every time I drove the heavy feed truck across it or watched the combine traverse it, I hoped it would stay standing.  

2013 photo accompanying blog post on beaver gnawing down a tree there. Click HERE.

 

 

The wooden bridge was central to many of our cattle-moving endeavors. During one of those times, I had my life flash before my eyes tumbling off that bridge in a 4-wheeler accident in 2019. 

Randy has lived and worked near the bridge for his entire life - nearly 70 years now. This current remodel is the third time he recalls that road crews have worked on it. 

After one of those rebuilds when Randy was about junior high age, Randy's dad asked if he could have some of the wood stripped from the bridge. 

 

That request was granted, and Melvin used it to build feed bunks in the winter pasture by the bridge. 

The bridge looks a lot different, both on top and underneath, with this latest version.

 

2025 version - August 7

On one of Randy's earlier expeditions to view progress, workers had explained that they had driven i-beams into the ground until they reached solid rock. 

 

 

The beams were in 30-foot sections. The workers would weld additional beam on top and keep pounding it in. They reached the rock at 90 feet.

 

 

Maybe this current version will outlive us. We'll see. It has to be finished first. 

Peace Creek Not So Peaceful

Peace Creek at the Zenith Road - August 10, 2022

It's not a good sign when you stop at a bridge and the first thing you see is a vulture perched in the creek bed. (It flew away before I got the shot - FYI.)

This summer in Kansas has not been fit for man or beast - unless you happen to be a vulture, I suppose. We've had more days than usual above the 100-degree F mark. And we are dry. When the weather forecasters were predicting 2 to 4 inches in our area a couple of weeks ago, we got 0.75". We were thankful for every drop. However, the most appreciable rain before that happened at the end of June during wheat harvest.

The Kansas Drought Monitor tells the tale, too. Half of Stafford County is in extreme drought and the other half in severe drought. (And that's better than a bunch of counties in western Kansas.)

At the bridge along the Zenith Road, Randy saw fish gasping for air in the dwindling water. I went back with him, but we couldn't see the fish at that time. However, we saw a bunch of bullfrogs who were still hunkering down in the few wet spots they could find.

 

Two years ago in August, I took this picturesque scene as I headed toward home after running an errand to the field.

Peace Creek at the Zenith Road - 2020

The U.S. Drought Monitor website also had this chart of impacts of drought. As they indicated, the consequences vary from state to state.

Several of these are evident in Kansas and other areas of the Great Plains this year.  (Click on the chart to make it easier to read.) Some field corn is getting chopped for silage, rather than harvested for grain. There are new blue-green algae alerts in the news all the time. Fires are much more likely to get out of hand. Ranchers are contemplating how to feed their cow/calf herds with dwindling pasture reserves. 

This week was again supposed to bring rain. But as this week arrived, the weather maps on the local TV stations started changing to fewer raindrops. So far, we haven't received any moisture.

However, Wednesday was a wonderful respite from the hot temperatures. So that prompted a Gator ride to the Rattlesnake Pasture.

There's still a little water in the Rattlesnake.

It's definitely better than the scene in 2012, when it was dry as a bone.

August 2012 - no water in the Rattlesnake

The cows and calves appeared to be faring well, despite the lack of rain to make the grass grow more abundantly. However, to keep it that way, Tye and Todd have decided to wean the calves from the cows next week and sell them now, rather than wait until later this fall, as is the norm. (Though we've had our farm sale, we still retain ownership in our cow/calf herd, though Tye and Todd do the day-to-day management.)

That will reduce the number of head of cattle in the pasture, with the hope that the grass will last longer for the remaining cows.

 As we left the pasture, we stopped at our customary spot for photos on the bridge.

There's still a little water flow. It's never a rushing river, but here's a comparison from March 2021.

Is there light at the end of the tunnel? The Farmers' Almanac predicts our area will have a snow-filled winter. My Grandpa Neelly may have planted potatoes by the light of the moon and the Farmers' Almanac, but I'll believe heavy snowfall when I see it. 

“Get ready to shake, shiver, and shovel!” says the website for that publication, which was founded in 1818 and is based in Lewiston, Maine. That almanac has weathered considerable distrust from meteorologists over its long-range forecasts, which it says are created using a secret formula that’s centuries old. 

Honestly, the Farmers' Almanac can't be much worse at predicting precipitation than the local TV stations.

***

As I wrote earlier this week, I'm sure I'll write about the farm sale. But it's going to take some time and some thought. More on that down the road.

Snow Glow

The wonder of a single snowflake outweighs
 the wisdom of a million meteorologists.
–Sir Francis Bacon, philosopher

The meteorologists actually got the forecast right last week. We had between 5 and 5 1/2 inches of snow that fell February 2 and 3.

We are thankful for the moisture. Our thirsty wheat fields were glad to soak up a little moisture after a dry fall and winter. 

With the temperatures climbing this past weekend and as we begin the new week, the snow is fast disappearing. But Randy and I did get out for a snowy cruise last Friday afternoon. 

Neither of us was sorry that we didn't have to venture out to feed cattle or check for new babies when the wind chill was sub-zero last week. I do miss having the heifers and their new babies practically in my backyard. 

But we still have a liberal "visitation policy" in place with Tye and Todd, who are calving out the heifers and cows this year as our first piece of the retirement plan. (At least, I hope they don't cringe when they see our pickup coming.)

Baby calves may have been the cutest things to photograph. But there were other snowy stops on our sightseeing tour. 

Before we ever got out of the farmyard, we saw evidence of other creatures. Randy thinks these tracks were made by a rabbit, rather than our cats.

Snowdrifts made for interesting art installations. 

A stop at the Peace Creek Cemetery north of our house provided another backdrop for snowy landscapes.

This angel would have been shivering like me, had she not been made of stone ...

 ... or plastic.  

The little lamb was snuggled in a blanket of snow. When Jill was little, we always had to bring flowers at Memorial Day for the little lamb marking a child's grave.  

Peace Creek looked like an Andrew Wyeth painting ...

whether in color ...

... or in black and white.

True confessions: I changed it to black and white to avoid the dirty tinge to the snow on Peace Creek at the Zenith Road. With the wind whipping and our dry conditions, the snow looked like it could use a good spring cleaning. 

After this week, the snow will be just a memory.