Bub Murdock's incredible near miss on the tractor causes me to recall another incident where there was a near miss involving myself and Uncle Oscar. On one occasion I was plowing cotton with Uncle Oscar. We were cultivating the cotton with a plow called a "go-devil." This plow was also called a "knife-sled."

The go-devil plow was usually one of the first implements to be used in the cultivation of row crops when the crop begins to appear above the ground. This plow is a one which has four large knife-like blades which slant backward. These four knives are attached In such a manner that they cut through lister ridges, killing the vegetation which grows in the centers of the ridges.

We were in the same field where Bub had his near miss, which was south of the Washita River below Grandpa Flick’s house. The procedure for cultivating a row crop differs from plowing with a soil-turning implement such as a disk plow. Row crops are usually laid out across the fields and working them requires that one start at one side of the patch, working across rather than plowing around the patch in a continuous circle.

The field of cotton was rather large. We moved into the field to begin our work at around noon. We began to cultivate the cotton from opposite sides of the field, working our way to meet and finish the patch in the middle. As we worked, a very small thunder head appeared in the west. I watched the cloud develop as we worked through the afternoon. The thunder head was one of those very small clouds which usually do not result in any rain, but occasionally have a few strokes of lightening. As the cloud continued to build, we were closing in on finishing the patch.

Needless to say, I was nervous about the possibility of lightening striking me. Dad had recounted stories about farmers who were killed while plowing during a lightening storm. We were so near completing the patch that Uncle Oscar wanted to finish before we headed for cover. As I recall, there were only a few rows remaining in the field. Although we were close to completion, we were turning our tractors at the opposite ends of the field. On each pass through, we would face each other and pass almost exactly in the middle of the field.

With the small storm cloud spitting lightening frequently, I could hardly maintain my concentration on plowing. I know that some of the cotton was being plowed under because I was looking heavenward at the cloud instead of at the plow and the rows as I should have been. Just as we were about to complete our last rows and as we had completed our turns at opposite ends of the field, a stroke of lightening struck the middle of the field almost exactly between us. The stroke couldn’t have been more than 300 yards away from either of us and yet it was between us.

Since the cloud wasn’t a rain cloud per se, no rain had begun to fall. In fact, only a few sprinkles of rain had fallen and the prospects of rain from this small cloud was next to zero. The bolt of lightening hit the dry soil with tremendous force, sending a small cloud of dust flying into the air. I made a mental note to myself that I didn’t want to get that close to lightening ever again.

I didn't have to wait for Uncle Oscar's signal to move out. I had already lifted my cultivator out of the ground and was heading for cover when Uncle Oscar gave a big waving signal to head for cover. The road speed of those little Ford and Ferguson tractors Is barely faster than 13 to 15 mph. I put my tractor in fourth gear, (the road-gear) and pulled the throttle to full speed ahead.

I was about as nervous as one could be about the fact that I had come so close to death. I could have been killed! I spent a lot of time reflecting on that close call throughout the remainder of the afternoon. By the time the cloud blew over, it was time to do chores and we did not return to the field to finish it that afternoon. Uncle Oscar sent me to finish it the next morning.

As I returned the next morning to finish the few remaining rows of cotton, I began to reflect on the near miss. I began to get that nervous feeling about the near miss which I had experienced the day before. My heart began to beat fast as I recounted to myself that I could have been killed by that bolt of lightening. It is amusing to me that we will occasionally recall near-miss catastrophe situations and become almost as nervous in recalling them as we were when they occurred.

I had made another mental note that I didn’t ever want to be that close to lightening again. My mind replayed the entire experience. As I replayed the scary ordeal in my mind, I remembered that little cloud of dust which had jumped up after the bolt of lightening hit the ground. I decided to go look and see what it did to the ground. I had heard that lightening would sometimes leave a rock-like piece of soil at the point of impact. The heat of the lightening bolt was supposed to melt the soil together and make a little rock like piece of melted soil.

I stopped the tractor short of the point where the lightening bolt hit the soil. My mental recollections took me almost immediately to the spot where the bolt had struck the ground. In the process of the search, my sense of nervousness had increased as I recalled the event. I had that feeling that I was close to lightening. I don’t know why I was so nervous. As I reflect on it now, I am sure that the thought of being so close to death caused me to think that a powerful bolt of lightening could strike that spot again. I was afraid of the spot where the bolt hit.

I located the spot and found the indenture where the lightening had struck the soil. I spent a moment or two looking at it, almost afraid to touch it. Finally I gathered the courage to touch the spot and see if there was a rock-like thing left by the lightening. Indeed, the lightening had caused a small rock-like piece of soil. I took my finger and turned it over and a small frog jumped out from under it.

Of course, the frog had found that spot after the bolt of lightening, but I most certainly wasn't expecting to see it. I would more nearly have expected another bolt of lightening than I did that frog. I was so startled by the frog that I nearly fainted. I had worked myself up into a frenzy over something that had occurred the day before, but I was as nervous as though it had occurred in that moment. I know I must have jumped back five or more feet from the "dangerous" spot.

I stood there for a moment or two and began to think about all that had occurred. There was no danger of lightening striking again. It was totally clear and the sun was shining. There was no electricity left in the dust where the bolt had struck the soil. There was certainly no threat to my life from a small frog. Why was I afraid? Why was I acting like this? I recall that I began to laugh at myself. I could hardly restrain my laughter when I realized there was nothing to be afraid of at the moment.

As I finished the field, I recall becoming extremely embarrassed that I had not controlled myself better. I had allowed a simple scary situation from the day before to send me on a return trip to the land of fear of dangerous things. I had allowed a simple spot where lightening had struck to become a thing of fear. I had become so worked up that even a small frog could scare the life nearly out of me. I recall that I didn't ever want anyone to know that I had allowed this kind of fear to grip me. So I determined to never tell anyone about the frog or the response that I had to the spot where lightening had struck.

That was years ago. I guess lightening can strike twice in the same spot, but I haven’t seen it happen yet. I won’t say that it can’t...