Springtime on the prairie, graceful slopes robed in soft green buffalo and wheat grass, dotted with clumps of sage and rattle weed, cactus beds in yellow and rose pink, white and blue lupines on the sunny slopes. The yucca plant's lance late leaves are green throughout the year and in mid June clusters of cream white blossoms cover the tall stem. It has many names: "Stiletto" said the Spanish, "Soap weed" said the busy pioneer, as they processed it into a soapy substance. "Adam's needle" said another, still another, perhaps a cowboy, a herdsman, or the kindly Padre, who on a dark night in June lost the trail and walked through endless aisles of red sand following the tall, bright blooms back on the trail and in thanksgiving named them "God's White Candles." On rocky knolls, bits of mica gleam in the morning sun. As you drive near, snakes slither quickly and quietly beneath the large rocks, mottled gray lizards scurry into the low brush. Open fields here and there, rich young grass and spring grain, damp brown earth beneath the plow for planting time. Fragrant choke cherry and wild plum in bloom. Pink sweet peas covering the prairie floor. In mid June, Old Faithful (tumbleweed) makes its feathery way down the hedgerow and out on the dry, dusty road. The cheery song of the meadowlark fills the air and over in the willows on First Creek the mourning dove answers in her intermitting mournful call.

Out in the pasture, mares whinny softly as their colts nuzzle by their side. Old Senator tosses his gray head and flowing mane proudly, as he races wild and free with the wind. In the ravine, crystal clear water snakes its way down to the dam where white-faced cattle stand knee deep in white clover. Up on the slope are cattle sheds and large red barns. Where windmills creak and moan and sigh, as the water tanks are filled near by.

Over on the mesa, small white sheep nibble the short grass and as the sun dips lower and dark shadows fill the draw, a man and his dog follow slowly. As they wend their way down the slope, across Stony Creek, and to the rambling sheds on the hillside. Bass and bullhead flash their bronze and black armor in the sparkling shallow streams and out in the placid depths of Noonen's Lake near the Muddy.

At dawn as gold streaks the eastern sky, graceful deer and white tailed antelope with their young, walk slowly in the lowlands-this scene is, indeed, an artist's dream. Tall corn over in the south field rustles in the cool wind before the dawn. The quiet and calm is broken as Shorty's hunting dogs tree a coon down in the timber. Over in the breaks the cry and bark of hungry coyotes echo through the deep canyons. Hawks circling high above Alkali Springs, over on the Jim Durkan homestead. A freight train whistles at the flag stop at Lowland and again a few miles farther east as it nears the bend at the crossing near Agate. In harvest time, fields of rich, mellow and gold warrior or Wichita wheat wave gently in the cool breeze spreading downward from the snow capped hills in the distance. Summer mornings, azure skies dotted with soft cream puff clouds, float lazily in the light wind. An afternoon shower freshens the earth leaving a rainbow of bright color arching across the sky. - There were no blue skies on this memorable morning, June 17, 1965. - At dawn heavy, gray mists filled the valley, stretching far out over the flatlands and over in the Pikes Peak area, lightning broke through the dark clouds. Heavy rainfall was reported again for today, as it had been yesterday, the day before and the day before; looked as though the wet spell was here to stay as cloud bursts and heavy beating rains continued. Shallow rivers were seeping far out into the hay meadows, dry creeks splashed over and across the narrow bridges, and East Bijou, usually dry at this time, was running high. When I heard of the flooding in Littleton I placed a call to my son, Robert, living there. The operator informed me all lines in that areas were out.

As I watched television I prayed for the safety of those whose homes, trailers, trucks and cars were bobbing around in the swirling water.

Later in the afternoon, a report came in that the Agate dam had broken. No one had reason to fear, as it is a small dam. More reports came in. The high water would flow east to Sterling. For many reasons this report was, incorrect. Another call from Agate, "high water coming down the Bijou." it was the old classic story of Wolf? Wolf? It couldn't happen here! The first I heard of the Bijou flooding was at 10:45 P.M. James Johnson came to the door, told me everyone was going to the hill for a short time. The report was a 9-foot wall of water coming down. "Slip on a coat, Betty, I'll be back in 5 minutes." I hurried into coat; wading boots and rain cap and was standing in the street when the Pisel wrecker stopped for me. It was about 10:55; high water was rolling in across the railroad just 2 blocks away. When we reached the hill 5 minutes later, telephones and electricity were

 Gone. I stayed at the Glenn Reid's home where over a transistor set listened through the night to the flood reports along the East, Middle, and West Bijou and our little town was practically washed away.

Local men, also some of Horner's Construction men, with heavy duty trucks and equipment followed the receding waters through the town, rescuing many from homes, in trees, on buildings, on cars, campers and on telephone poles.

At 6:00 A.M. Friday we started home. As we drove slowly down the back street, all fences were gone. A cow stood wild-eyed under a tree at Dick Fenwick's home; farther down at Date and 2nd ', the small cottage of Mrs. Drinkwine's had floated a block and rested on Keopka's lawn. Another building from the corner had moved in its place. Streets were filled with everything-turned over cars, barrels, tanks, and rolls of wire, trees and heavy timbers.

Mr. Copley has lived in Deer Trail 26 years - as section foreman, and an employee of the railroad 41 years.

On Thursday afternoon, June 17, 1965, 1 was working with my crew of 3 men: Jay Murphy, H. Adams and Mike Martinez.

The past three days we had heavy rainfall. Gullies, dams and dry creeks were filled and overflowing. About 5:30 P.M. tourists came through and reported heavy rain with large hail at Cedar Point, which is about 7 miles east of Agate.

I called the dispatcher in Denver and tied up the railroad, as 2 freights were due out, luckily no trains were in the area. Also called the railroad operator in Deer Trail reporting flood danger, it was still raining hard. At dusk that evening the waters of East Bijou and Agate Gulch Creeks and the tributaries merged with a terrific crashing roar. Waves as high as 75 feet leaped in the air straight up sending towering crystal sprays over a wide area. For a moment it was a huge misty castle. I know my men and myself were the only ones to have seen this spectacular scene. I will never forget it - to me, it was beautiful. We watched the 9-foot wall of water crash and roar down the East Bijou. Trees snapped, wood splintering over wood as sheds, barns, fence posts were torn free from their holdings, bawling cattle, squealing hogs and sheep were plunged into the mud and debris. Most of them to their death, rescue was impossible.

As the water lowered we drove the U.P. truck down the 12 miles to Deer Trail. We heard only the swirling water and the cold wind whistling through the tall cottonweeds. As we neared the town we found the highway blocked with heavy duty trucks. The time was about 2:30 Friday morning. We stopped at the water's edge when we heard a call for help. We went into the building, a liquor store, and rescued a man and his wife from the attic. We walked down the street to my new basement home, it was full of mud and water, and everything was ruined. The rental unit was a beauty shop; a total loss. Towels, supplies and small cases floated through the rooms.

There was no place to sleep or eat so at daylight we started back to Agate. Adams lived in Byers, a town 12 miles west. He couldn't get there. We decided to stay in Agate at the home of Mike Martinez. We found a washout - 1/4 mile of track washed out about 2 1/2 miles east of Lowland. The destruction along the creek back to Agate was indescribable.

A crew of 1 00 men were sent in from Kansas to repair the track. They stayed in Limon, a town 22 miles east of Agate.

Many railroad officials came in as soon as transportation permitted. I received orders to take my vacation at this time, which I did. After 2 weeks I was called back to work in charge of 70 Indians who were sent in from New Mexico to work on the track. A diner and bunk car came in with them. Meals were served; also hot lunches at noon were taken to them in the work area.

At first our grocery supply was sent in from Ogden, Utah. Later it was sent to Strasburg, packed there and trucked to Deer Trail.

All power machinery was used. After 3 months of hard work the old U.P. trail of steel, 8 miles of scattered, twisted track that lay in grotsque forms in all directions, also the 2 bridges were complete.

The Indian boys worked hard and were very intelligent. They returned to their schools and colleges for the fall term.

This is the Union Pacific Railroad. The Rock Island uses it.

We were talking about it to our neighbors and had decided to go to bed, as we knew it wouldn't come across the tracks and into town, as we have lived here 45 years and it had never happened. But Frank Kontour decided to drive down and have one more look before retiring. He came rushing back with the message to get out quick as the water was coming fast and would flood the town.

Claude went to get the car out of the garage while I ran across the street to warn my sister and husband. I could hear the roar of the water and things cracking and breaking up as I did and Claude met me with the car and said, "get in quick," as the water was coming across the tracks then and breaking and moving the offices and buildings the construction companies had on this side of the railroad tracks.

We drove hurriedly up the hill to higher ground where we would be safe. We could hear the terrible roar of the water and pretty soon it took the light poles down and everything was dark. This was about 11:19 P.M. We sat in our car until daylight came and the water had gone down. Then we came home to utter desolation. Our being pumped out, to try and clean with. I didn't even have a dry tea towel. We had nothing to eat till the emergency equipment was set up at the schoolhouse where everyone was fed.

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