Worst years on record were:
1898
1916
1928
1934
1935
1888
1889
1915
1937
1931‑32‑ The grasshoppers ate everything in sight even the handles on the pitchforks. Some problems in other years too but this was the worst one.
One of the worst disasters that the pioneers had to face was the prairie fire. They were quite prevalent in the '80s, especially during the fall of the year. The high dense prairie grass would become very dry, catch fire and spread very rapidly. The new settlers were frightened when they experienced their first fire but as the fires were frequent occurrences they learned how to protect themselves and their property and how to fight against them.
The following are stories about some of the fires from the personal experiences of the settlers. They were collected from the reports in the Independent and from a report of Mrs. William Smith that was prepared for the State Historical Society:
1883:
Fire broke out in Melville vicinity and burned on in a northwesterly direction, taking everything in sight.
Prairie fires could rage for weeks, some six or more. Each day the smoke would become more dense so that the sun would be blotted out. After it was over there would be thousands of acres of black which gave the area a very dismal look.
The fire in 1883 was the first experience of this kind for Ben Holcomb. Ben was well protected against it. He was working one day, that fall, on his sister's homestead when the fire came up quickly from the south. They were fighting fire near the barn when his brother remembered the oxen were picketed in the slough in the direct path of the fire. He jumped on a horse, rode through the fire and brought the oxen to safety. Ben lost little through prairie fires. Many times, however, during those early years he would get up in the night, hitch up the horses and plow a new fresh furrow around the buildings when a fire could be seen far off in the Hawksnest.
Nellie Van Meter (now Mrs. Thomas H. Cousins, Sr.) came to Dakota Territory in the spring of 1883. One day in the fall of that year she had ridden horseback into Carrington, some nine miles away and while she was gone a prairie fire had completely obliterated the trail to the north and east of the Van Meter home. There were no roads at that time. Her father and brothers had gone west of Sykeston that day and would not be back until the following day so she and her mother were alone.
They were awakened in the night by a bright light shining in the window and were startled to see that there was a prairie fire to the south of them. It was some distance away but creeping toward their buildings. They were badly frightened and wished the men were there, but knew that they must do something and at once.
Nellie saddled her horse and set out to try and find the nearest neighbor, some mile and a half away. She was a girl of 16 at that time and her mother did not like having her go off in the middle of the night to find help as the trails were wiped out due to the fire of the afternoon. However, there was nothing else to do. Mrs. Van Meter put a lamp in the window and there was a straw stack burning straight north of them, so, guided by the two lights, the neighbor's shack was soon reached. He returned at once with Miss Van Meter and worked most of the night fighting the fire with set sacks and brooms.
When the fire was completely extinguished Mrs. Van Meter had a good meal waiting for their neighbor. They were indeed grateful to him for saving their buildings. The barn contained all of their stock and their newly threshed crop.
1884: (Mr. and Mrs. G.W. Kallberg who homesteaded in Pleasant Valley, now Longview)
"One Saturday night they returned late from Carrington and heard that there was some trouble with a prairie fire in the hills. Mr. Kallberg was working in town that summer, as their homestead had not as yet been broken and ready for seeding. He did not like to go back to his work the next night without leaving his wife and the farm safeguarded from the fires, so he and Mrs. Kallberg changed into working clothes, hitched their team of oxen to their walking plow and began making a firebreak. They worked most of the night, as it was difficult plowing that hard virgin soil with only a walking plow.
They plowed a piece some four feet wide around their house and sod barn, left a ten‑foot piece unplowed and then plowed another four‑foot strip. In the morning Mr. Kallberg burned out the space between the plowing and then had a very good firebreak. He left for Carrington that night.
The next morning when Mrs. Kallberg awakened she saw a prairie fire coming from the direction of Hawksnest. It was the first one she had ever seen and the most frightful one she ever did see, although there were many through the next years. The flames leaped some 25 feet high into the air where the grass was the highest and the fire extended as far as she could see from the Pipestem Creek west.
She was alone but felt fairly safe with the newly plowed area. However, she was not sorry when two of Mr. Kallberg's brothers hurried over to help her. She and the boys carefully burned a wide space around the haystack in an endeavor to save that also, as it was the winter's feed for the cow.
Mr. and Mrs. Kallberg lost nothing in that fire due to their preparedness but one of their nearest neighbors became panic‑stricken and as a result their crop, hay barn and chickens were burned. These people left their home and followed the creek, intending to fight the fire before it reached their property, not realizing that this would be too much for them to do. They had not protected their property nor were they prepared to fight the fire when it reached them.
The Hawksnest was the source of many fires in that locality as it was a favorite hunting spot and any carelessness on the part of the hunters was certain to cause great damage and hardship to the nearby farmer."
1885:
Ralph E. Walker came to Dakota in the spring of 1884 filing on a homestead in the eastern end of Foster County where he spent the summer living in a claim shack. In the fall he obtained work on a threshing crew working south of Carrington.
One day it was reported that there was a prairie fire in the vicinity of the Hawksnest headed their way. The men worked fast to get the teams, the threshing rig and themselves to safety in a nearby plowed field. The threshing machine was drawn by horses and was rather awkward to move quickly, but working as fast as possible, the men barely had time to get everything to safety before the fire was upon the very place they had been working. When there was a little wind behind one of those fires they would burn fast and furiously, sweeping a field clean in no time at all.
Mrs. Ed Johnson's home was south of Kensal. Her young brother, seven years old was herding his dad's stock. He got very cold so decided to warm himself by burning a little grass. A gust of wind blew it into the high grass. This fire went northeast past Kensal, then turned northwest and burned a lot of shocked grain for Christian Johnson, Ed's father in Bucephalia township, then it burned north to Devils Lake and back again to just east of Kensal.
Chris Eriksen tells this story:
"One of my wife's memorable events was helping a friend in Haven Township, Mrs. Isaac Nysted, after the birth of one of her children. A neighbor came with his team and lumber wagon to get her. Soon after they left the shanty home they saw a prairie fire to the north. They met it near where is now the Ambrose Abledinger farm, three miles north of my place. The grass was tall and thick and the flames rose 10 feet high or more. The horses were at full gallop trying to get to the James River before the fire crossed the winding wagon trail. For a time it burned right along side of the wagon wheels. Finally there was a break and they drove through the flames onto the black waste of burned prairie. Many prairie fires were seen after that but this came the closest to threatening horses and people."
Zerlina Eakin tells this story:
"We had the dearest little cave about four feet deep, with a low framework of boards over it and covered with earth. Steps cut in the earth, a door fitting the opening and we had a splendid little cellar, a refuge in case of tornado or prairie fires.
"One night here was a ring of fire all around us, coming nearer every moment. A frosted wheat crop uncut was on two sides of the house and from the one side fire was coming toward us.
"We carried our belongings to the cave, drew all the water we could from the wells, nailed cleats on the corner of the house so we could go up and put out a fire if it would start, had wet blankets ready for an emergency, then we went to pulling wheat.
We made a broad pathway, carrying the wheat far enough from the building that the heat could not do any harm should it ignite. All night we worked and made ready for the demon but when the fire reached the grain field, it died down. The wheat had too much moisture in it to ignite and we were saved."
Isak Olson tells this story:
"Worst enemy of the early settlers was the prairie fires. It took its toll annually. Mrs. Olson's people, especially, had some trying experiences. P.J. Kallberg, Mrs. Olson's father, was shocking grain one time when a prairie fire came racing toward him. Kallberg ran to keep ahead of the fire, and he ran hard almost losing the race. He was sick for a week afterward, suffering from the efforts of overexertion and smoke."
The prairie fire could accelerate its own momentum and create its own draft, reaching speeds of 40 miles an hour. Sometimes horses couldn't run away from it.
Peter Anderson was almost caught by one of those fires. He was out on the prairie when a fire raced toward him. With presence of mind, he reached for his matches and set a backfire. That saved him.
Farmers plowed wide firebreaks in the hope of saving their property from the fires and this was at least partially served its purpose. One time a fire leaped a firebreak and threatened the home of Henry Laughlin, another early settler. Neighbors helped save the home by quenching the embers as they fell on the roof.
Some used wet gunnysacks to beat out the flames.
Mrs. Nellie Templeton lived about nine miles east of Carrington near the Templeton Lake. This is her story.
"Returning to Carrington one day we saw there was a fire at our shack, when we were three miles away. We became afraid as the Indians at Devils Lake were on the warpath. We turned around and went back to the Holcomb place where we stayed all night. In the morning Mr. Holcomb and my husband drove to our place, and found only an ash pile. Later we heard the fire had been started by the big Norwegian we had hired to plow for us.
"It was the first of September and Joe had left me and the baby, who was about 13 months old and a very bright child, to stay with his sister, Mrs. Railsback, at the latter's claim two miles from ours.
"A fire started on the prairie while I was at Railsback's and all the men in the neighborhood were away. It came to where I was staying, and destroyed 90 acres of fine oats which were ready to thresh.
"I feared for our crop, so I put my babe in her little buggy and started home ahead of the fire, running nearly all the way. I got to a big hill and there was the fire on the other side, but I made it over the hill, the fire after me. When I got half a mile from our claim, the fire turned north.
"I reached home and took the oxen, Johnnie and Archie and staked them inside the five acres of firebreak. Then I stayed to watch the fire.
As soon as Mr. Railsback learned of the fire, he came to our place on his horse, expecting that I might have been burned on the way. He made his horses jump strips of fire to reach me, and insisted that I go back with him but I refused, saying that I must stay to watch the fire near our house.
"Two days later the fire was burning north of our claim and by noon it got to the river. On it came to jump our firebreak and get to the big stacks of hay and oats.
"I worked with a wet broom and threw water on the fire but as soon as I got one side out, it came to the other side.
"I ran to the shack, got the baby and a few things, the dogs, Nero and Frisk, and took to the cave. Not long after we were there the fire got to the garden and burnt everything but the little shack. It was so dark I couldn't see the sun.
"Joe had heard on his way home from his tree claims that a prairie fire was all around his claim; so he started for home, standing up on the buggy and driving my pony in a lope all the way. I was sitting out in front of the shack with the baby.
"Other neighbors near our claim were the Neimans, the Holcombs, McIntyres, Burns, and the Railbacks."
1889:
Lewis Mortenson who lived near Barlow fought a fire for 24 hours and was severely burned.
1891:
Julius Engberg lost $5,000 worth of wheat, four horses, four binders, and 100 acres of oats.
Ole Elton lost all his crops, his barn, hay, harnesses, as well as all of their home furnishings.
Nearly destroyed Lund farm. They saw fire coming as all got pails of water and gunnysacks and backfired by burning small area around the buildings. This was the way they were saved.
Nellie Ewen Wilschko told the story of one prairie fire which swooped toward their buildings and three stacks of bundles. His father came to the house, told her mother to take all the children to the plowed field east of the buildings.
1894:
Wallace Bemis on 145‑62 lost his barn.
1895:
The fires spread through McHenry consuming wagons that were loaded with wheat.
1897:
Fire destroyed barn, 75 tons of hay, 29 head of hogs, six work hoses, full-blooded stallion on the E.T. Halaas farm in Estabrook Township.
Source: A History of Foster County 1983 Page 87