I occasionally meet truly remarkable individuals. Sometimes, I have the good fortune to work with them. Rarely is it over decades. When such folks pass on, America is a lesser place. Such a loss occurred when Myron Vinger died April 12. He was a top hand, a real mensch, a good friend, and a patriotic American.

Myron’s life testifies to the value of independent men who excel at manipulating concrete variables, the rock and dirt comprising the furniture of the world.

I find it so easy to empathize with and respect Myron, for not only did I know him and his work so well, he was exactly my age and we shared a great deal, including births as “dark Lutherans.” He grew up farming in North Dakota and served in the Army. He farmed after his discharge and, like me, came to Montana when his family place was sold.

I met Myron and his wife Doris in the early 1970s. He brought his first backhoe to our ranch to install a culvert protecting Wortman Creek. Myron was proud that he owned and operated seven different backhoes, each of which he maintained in excellent shape. All, I believe, worked on our place, some for a few hours, others for weeks.

When asked to recommend a good dirt contractor, I always suggested Myron. My problem was deciding which quality to first emphasize. Perhaps his care and dexterity in operating the digging boom of an 18,000-pound machine inches from a house or a person’s head? His skill with a hand held level eliminating the need for expensive engineering? Or, as in my case when I was a poor young professor, Myron’s ability to do an excellent job at the least cost?

Here’s an example from about 1980 illustrating his skill, trust, and integrity. Our ranch has a fine gravel deposit half a mile south of our home. I could put this gravel to good use, saving the need to buy and haul it. The gravel bar was up a steep hill and access required a road with switchbacks. I spoke with a road contractor and received a bid. Alas, it was tens of thousands, far more than the project would justify. I mentioned this to Myron and he asked to look at the job.

“You don’t have a problem,” Myron promised, “I’ll do it for time and material.” I asked him how much it would be. “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to afford it. If you can’t pay me all right now, just cover the culverts and fuel for the tractor and grader. We’ll both be around a long while.” And he was right; Myron’s total bill was barely over $2,000.

His work in restoration ecology endures and will long be appreciated by my family and wounded warriors brought to Montana by the Warriors and Quiet Waters Foundation (WQW). Here’s what he, Neal Kelly a friend with an excavator, and I accomplished.

To gain good farm ground, sometime around 1900, a small spring creek south of our home was eliminated by diverting it into two pipes. The larger was constructed of rectangular wood and its flow discharged into Wortman Creek at Cottonwood Road. That pipe collapsed a few decades ago and the field became an intermittent bog. Restoring the spring creek and improving wetland habitat became an important goal for Ramona and me.

To accomplish it I again called on Myron. And of course he responded with experience, wisdom, and dedication. I won’t burden you with the engineering details, but assure you that the spring creek, its five ponds, and adjacent wetlands that Myron helped construct are wonderfully productive trout and wildlife habitat.

WQW Foundation’s wounded warriors are revitalized and rejuvenated when they throw their first fly, some lacking an arm or leg, into a pond Myron built. I hope he is watching as a warrior with no legs catch his first wild trout on a pond he constructed.

Myron’s last job was on our place. He installed a sanitation system near the west pond in one of our conservation easement parcels. He used his seventh backhoe, the one that dug his final resting place.