The event transpired July 20 at approximately 4:30 p.m. The previous Friday was the 13th, where all bad luck is supposed to strike, but this piece of misfortune was a week late.
The event was a baler fire on the Bruce Drybrough farm, on the north side of Shore Acres Drive just east of Yonge Street in Innisfil.
Rebecca Drybrough (Bruce and Mary-Ellen's daughter) was baling straw in the northwest field. She is an experienced third-generation farmer on this land, and she knew what to do when the fire began.
She unpinned the baler, called 911 and then her dad, and took the tractor to get the discs. She knew they would be needed to disc, or till, the dry straw fields as the fire was certainly going to spread. Bruce was in the combine a few miles away and headed back immediately.
Phones began ringing within minutes in the shirt pockets of many neighbours and while the fire department began its response, so did the community.
Everyone knew that a fire in a straw field, at this dry time of year, was a major emergency. It could spread to barns, bush areas, other fields and houses. This was a very big problem!
My phone rang first at 4:48 p.m. Carl Hordyk was calling from eight kilometres away to alert me to billowing black smoke that he thought was coming from my farm. I was not sure of what was happening, but I began to move.
One minute later, John Rundel, a next-door neighbour, phoned to warn me of the fire.
Within minutes, I was aware of the fire's location, and I drove to Bruce's driveway to see what help was required.
One fire truck had arrived and was beginning to slow the spread of the fire, but it was obvious that the east wind was pushing the fire across Bruce's four-hectare field of fresh-cut straw toward my fields of tinder dry-standing wheat, as well as Bruce's hardwood bush.
Neighbours were arriving, and Rebecca was about to head back to the fields with the tractor and discs.
As I decided to return to my farm to see what could be done with my backhoe, I saw the familiar sight of a white pickup truck speed into the Drybrough barnyard.
Anyone who lives in south Innisfil recognizes these white pickup trucks as a sure sign that a member of the Kell family is near.
In this case, it was Larry Kell at the wheel and the white pickup truck was the Gilford Bat Signal, and it signified that help was arriving.
Larry gunned the white pickup toward the fire as I headed back to my farm, where I planned to meet him at the entrance way between my property and the Drybrough fire.
By the time I arrived at the back of my farm at 5:01 p.m., Larry had already given orders to his farm staff. He had requested they deliver to him the largest tractor of the fleet equipped with the biggest discs they owned. It was on the way!
In two minutes, I watched as the massive tractor approached across my wheat field.
At 5:04 p.m., we were guiding the huge tractor through the tight opening and into the field near the flames that were burning loose straw, baled straw and straw stubble.
Larry climbed into the driver’s seat (nearly three metres off the ground) of the massive six-year-old, 350-horsepower, Case IH Steiger four-wheel-drive tractor, put the nine-metre-wide hydraulic sunflower discs down into the locked position and headed for the danger of the burning fields. It was 5:07 p.m.
Within seconds, Larry began to lessen the fire's ability to do damage as he turned the burnt straw field into freshly tilled powdery soil. He would not stop discing that four hectares for 90 minutes.
Rebecca was already discing and would keep discing even longer than Larry.
The nine-metre-wide discs allowed Larry to safely disc over burning straw with the extended wings, while not driving the expensive tractor directly over heavy flames.
Rebecca had to be more careful or else another piece of farm equipment may catch fire.
As more fire trucks and manpower began to arrive, the situation stabilized.
Bruce arrived with his loader tractor and began to carefully open and spread the flaming round bales as Larry disced them under with the extra wide wings.
One by one, the flaming bales were snuffed out by this method, while the many members of the fire department concentrated on the treeline fires.
By 5:49 p.m., the risk of fire penetration of the fence line separating my wheat from the fire had been completely eliminated and the fire department had pulled back to refill with water from the tanker.
It was now safe to walk in and see where the fire had come within three feet of the 60-year-old split-rail fence!
Several fire crews continued to work on the smouldering grass fires that had worked their way into the bush along the north side of the field.
Luckily, there is a creek along there, which kept the grass green and moist, preventing the further spread of fire while the firefighters fought the remnants.
I used my backhoe to pull smouldering stumps from the undergrowth to prevent them from reigniting the bush.
At last, Larry and Bruce had spread the final bale out and disced down the flaming straw.
The remains of the baler were still burning but had long since stopped being a risk of spreading, since all of the surrounding soil had been fireproofed by Larry and Rebecca.
The fire department hosed down the charred hulk. It was 6:32 p.m.
A few waves, a quick hand shake, and Larry was gone. He is not one for accolades. He is not one for long goodbyes or after action analysis. He did what was needed and disappeared.
Many firefighters worked to put out the fire, Bruce and Rebecca Drybrough worked hard to do the same.
But Larry Kell deserves special recognition for being the neighbour who knew what to do and for doing it. He had the equipment and took action.
When politicians make speeches about community spirit, participation and leadership, they are referring to people like Larry Kell and the examples he sets every day — and especially this day.
It is not the first time he has done such heroics, and I am sure it will not be the last.
Thank you, Larry Kell. You have made a big difference… again!
Now, I call on Innisfil, the province and Canada to provide him with a medal he absolutely deserves.
— Submitted by John Trotter