Wellman family farm recovers from tornado

Whetstine feeds a herd of cattle near the creek-bottom on his property, which was converted into a triage center after a March 31 tornado killed and injured several cattle. (Kalen McCain/The union)

WELLMAN — A March 31 tornado that swept through Southeast Iowa had some of the worst timing possible. It lined up with a downed storm siren in Wellman, a heavy commuter hour on a Friday, and mere weeks before planting season on the fields it littered with tire-popping debris.

Most notably for Wellman’s Whetstine family, it struck the day before calving season, although about half a dozen of the animals had already been born.

The farm with roots back to the 1880s lost around a third of its 54 cattle and one of seven bulls after the storm leveled part of a barn alongside several hog buildings, machine sheds, grain silos and the family’s house.

“Nothing that had a roof was left standing,” Clint Whetstine said. “Of those early calves, I’m pretty sure only one survived. A neighbor girl came over the night after a tornado and took it home to make a bottle calf out of it, because its mama was dead.”

"Nothing that had a roof was left standing" on the Whetstine farm after a tornado swept by Wellman the day before calving season. (Kalen McCain/The Union)

All of that totals to a major investment lost in the span of just a few days. Whetstine expects three or four years to pass before the cow herd restores its numbers.

Whetstine said the recovery process was slow-going, but underway all the same. In recent weeks, the family has pivoted from cleanup efforts to planting work in an attempt to restore something resembling a normal spring season.

The family will make some changes to its operation. Whetstine said they’d cut their hog operation in half after losing three of five buildings, and would rebuild on different land now cleared of other structures.

“Farming’s what we do, and it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do,” he said. “It’s just that desire to have a living and a purpose. You own it, you’ve got to make it go, because nobody else is going to do it for you.”

The storm’s precision was surgical. A third of a mile away, other farm ground owned by the family was untouched, save for a sprinkling of debris flung by the funnel cloud. Most of the younger cattle, living in a field rather than a building, were physically fine, albeit badly shaken up by the storm.

In one field, the herd was so shellshocked, it didn’t notice the suddenly missing fence until days after the damage, when the neighboring rye cover crop started to turn green. In another pasture closer to the house, four 4-H calves panicked and ran loose when their shed blew away. They were later herded to shelter by volunteers.

“The steers, I think, will get calmed down fine,” Whetstine said. “One heifer, she’s so spooked up from the situation, I don’t know if we’ll ever get her where she can show it … They’re a little bit behind the eight-ball, because we had other priorities than getting them ready for county fair, and fattened up the way they need to be.”

A group of cattle approach a feed trough on Whetstine's farm in Wellman. (Kalen McCain/The Union)

Several of the family members feel a similar way. Whetstine admitted that everyone got nervous when they got caught in a hailstorm on May 7, that time driving home from Muscatine in a brand-new truck, which insurance had just purchased.

“We’re going to look at storms differently the rest of our lives,” he said. “It’s always going to be in your head, I guess we’ll see how we deal with it. I know it’s been an emotional journey, but we’ve got to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off.”

Shortly after the weather passed, neighbors and a vet from Keota set up a portable corral near a creek on the property. It served as a triage center for the injured animals.

“It kind of was like a war movie,” he said. “The walking wounded come out of the trees and it was kind of misty … I put some feed out, and at that point I counted 41, but there were some pretty tough-looking cows at that point. We’re down to 38 now.”

Elsewhere, Whetstine said the community came out in droves to help.

A group of Amish men helped put up new fencing, and started logging 20 acres of destroyed timber for eventual use as a pasture. One community member offered a newly-built, move-in ready house as a rental. The vet visited every day to help treat animals and birth others. Countless strangers assisted with cleanup efforts.

“That first week out, there were hundreds of volunteers, I didn’t know hardly any of them,” he said. “There were people bringing machines out that I didn’t know, just helping us pick out what was left. It’s pretty good living in small-town Iowa, because it’s not every place in the world that people are going to keep showing up to help you get back on your feet … it’s kind of hard to keep track of what people have done, what people have given. The bills are coming in, dollars are going out, but I can’t imagine what it would be without the community’s support.”