After Harvey’s havoc, a livestock show of strength
Father-daughter duo glad to bring cattle here following dramatic rescues
From the helicopter, 17-year-old Logan Goudeau could see that only a wire fence stood between a herd of cattle and their salvation.
The ranch pastures were submerged beneath the swollen Colorado River. Floodwaters had crept up to the cows’ shoulders, and if the herd didn’t leave the fenced enclosure, they were certain to drown.
Michael Goudeau, Logan’s father, had only one option. He took a deep breath and jumped out the door of the helicopter. Diving beneath the water’s surface, he used a pair of wire-cutters to open a gash in the fence. He peeled it back and guided the cattle through.
The Goudeaus lost 50 of their 350 cattle when Hurricane Harvey dumped more than 30 inches of rain on Wharton County in late August, flooding pastures, drowning crops and threatening every living thing in its path.
Now, six months later, the father-daughter duo are showing some of their beefiest Brahman cattle at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo — their only cattle to ride out the storm in the safety of a barn.
Much attention has been paid to how people in Houston and its suburbs have struggled to recover from Harvey. Ranchers across southeast Texas have their
own stories of devastation, heroism and rebuilding — stories they have brought with them to the rodeo.
“Houston’s such a big city, they’re going to get all the publicity about it,” Logan said. “I just want people to realize this is what people were really going through. It wasn’t just Houston — it hit the little towns like Hungerford and Wharton, too.”
One Future Farmers of America student in East Chambers ISD, between Houston and Beaumont, broke into her school’s barn and swam a group of pigs to safety. Caitlyn Fuechec, a classmate of Logan Goudeau’s in East Bernard ISD, had hours to pack a trailer full of keepsakes, furniture and appliances before leaving her horses and cattle to an uncertain fate.
Of the family’s five horses, two died in the floodwaters, and one died shortly after from injuries sustained in the storm. They lost 20 head of cattle, and 2-foot-high flood waters gushed into their home.
Even though the house still lacks proper flooring in the bathrooms and most of the kitchen, Caitlyn will show a Brahman at the livestock show later this week.
“For about a month, my dad and I thought we wouldn’t be able to (show an animal) with all the stress going on with the house. We didn’t think we would be able to do it,” Fuechec said. “But now it does feel normal. It’s just like a comfort zone. I can just relax and do what I love to do.”
Don’t blink or you’ll miss it
As a seventh-generation Texan whose family has been raising cattle since 1908, Logan is well-acquainted with life on the ranch.
Her family operates the J.D. Hudgins Ranch in Hungerford, located along U.S. 59, north of Wharton.
“If you blink, you’re going to miss it,” Logan said of the town. “There’s a blinking traffic light, a post office, a feed store and a café.”
Logan wasn’t home when Harvey blew into Rockport on Friday, Aug. 25, opting to spend the weekend with friends in College Station.
Neither Logan nor her father realized how devastating the flooding was until she returned the following Wednesday. The father and daughter drove about 15 minutes west to Egypt, Texas, where a cousin had called for help.
The entire town was swamped. Helicopters from as far away as West Texas hovered overhead, pushing cattle through flooded pastures to hilltops that had become islands. Airboats whizzed by, dropping off hay and ferrying stunned-looking farmers around their flooded fields.
Within 20 minutes of getting into town, Michael Goudeau, 44, and Logan were scouting pathways to dry spots from a helicopter. About 30 minutes after that, Michael jumped out of the helicopter, wire-cutters in hand.
“You’d get one herd to dry land, turn around and see another herd swimming,” the father said. “You try to survive the next two hours, then the next six hours, then keep the cattle alive for the next 12 hours. You have to use short-term goals.”
The rest of the week was a blur. After the floodwaters receded in Egypt, they rose in Hungerford. Days later, Hungerford was drying out, but Brazoria County, home to more of the Goudeaus’ ranching relatives, was flooding.
Logan and her father were separated for much of the ordeal — she would ride around on airboats to push cattle and field phone calls from desperate neighbors, while he would be dispatched to areas where the needs was greatest.
Some moments are seared into their memories. Father and daughter grabbing onto tractors and fences, worried the current would push them into barbed wire. The sound of cows lowing so desperately they sounded like they were screaming for help. Watching cows’ heads sink beneath the raging currents.
At one point, Logan saw a calf go under. She jumped out of an airboat into a bloated creek, sinking beneath the water before bobbing back up.
“I just got behind him and pushed him, just kicked behind him and started swimming with him,” Logan said. “Once he got knee deep I said, ‘He’s safe, you’re going to survive, you made it.’ ”
Most of the family’s cattle also survived, including a pair found wandering 2 miles south of their ranch, apparently swept up in the flood’s current.
‘Doing this together’
The Goudeaus’ efforts to save livestock didn’t stop in Wharton or Brazoria counties. As one of the largest distributors of hay in South Texas, Michael Goudeau loaded up trucks and headed to Beaumont, where bales were moved onto Chinook helicopters and dropped to clusters of cows that had found dry land.
He and Logan raised $15,000 to help reimburse volunteers who arrived in Hungerford with helicopters and airboats and to help farmers who had lost everything.
At the rodeo on Thursday, the family flipped through photos Logan took during the storm as they waited for buyers to wander past their exhibit. Some showed cowboys atop nearly submerged horses, wading next to panicked cattle. Others showed airboats and helicopters working in concert to push a Brahman herd from a flooded pasture to a dry patch of U.S. 59.
Logan had always considered life on the ranch somewhat dull. That changed after she watched her father risk his life to protect their livelihood.
“Being in the airboats and watching him do things, it’s like — that’s my dad, like we’re doing this together,” Logan said, her voice breaking with emotion. “Me and my dad, people said I was a sidekick. But I was — I never left him.”
Her father bowed his head and rubbed his eyes.
“It’s emotional, that’s what’s so cool about it,” Goudeau said. “Just the time you spend in the war zone, and she’s right here beside me. It was like, we got this, together we got this. It’s going to be all right.”