Tim Johnson

  • Backyard chicken lessons, part two

    It arrived with much anticipation. For weeks Heather, my 8-year-old, and I would open the boxes of the chicken coop to see if our treasured three hens had begun laying eggs. Day after day we checked the boxes and nothing. I tried chicken psychology and would ask, “When are you hens going to make me breakfast?”

    Finally, Heather found the first egg — a nice light brown egg. Heather screamed with excitement as I was working in the garden at the time, “Daddy, we got an egg!” I’m sure the neighbors heard the excitement too.

    She held the egg, showed the treasure to the neighbor kids, and when mom arrived home from school, Heather greeted her at the car door holding the egg.

    The egg went to school the next morning, in an egg carton of course, and was shown to the teachers and fellow classmates of the first- and second-grade room at St. Aloysius. Then the egg came to work with me. I admit that I was a pretty proud papa too.

    After being passed around to so many hands, we decided that this egg should be preserved as a souvenir. It waits to be drained, decorated and situated in a place of honor on the fireplace.

    In late summer, we had a bit of a chicken catastrophe. Three of the hens and one rooster had escaped the pen and something — a dog, a coyote — had killed them. One was hauled off, the other three were found dead in the yard. Heather was devastated. But she said her goodbyes and helped me bury them in the garden.

    I also learned a lesson. Keep the chickens’ wings clipped so they don’t fly out. In the meantime, my father-in-law, who is a great carpenter, made a covered chicken run that looks like it came straight from the zoo. The chickens free range when I get home from work and can keep an eye on them.

    A trip to my favorite farm store in Huntington had a supply of fall chicks — breeds that I wanted. So we have six pullets now living in my shed, who will hopefully be big enough to defend themselves against the other hens in a few months.

    Isn’t that how life is? We raise our children to be strong Catholics with the hope that they will be able to defend themselves against the secularism of the world. The world will peck at them — just like the older hens do to the younger pullets — and maybe even harm them. But as parents we must do our best to prepare our children to meet the dangers of the world. Sometimes we need to protect them from the dangers of the world. Sometimes we need to clip their wings.

    Since that first egg, we have gained quite a few eggs, over a dozen in the past week. We all enjoyed scrambled eggs on Heather’s birthday last week. Homegrown chicken eggs are pretty dynamite.

    Of course, when you feed them table scraps, garden leftovers, sunflower seeds, bugs from the yard and the farm store feed, they reap some pretty tasty results. In the same way, we need to “feed” our children the Gospel, not only on Sundays, but in the way we live each and every day, which includes the table scraps, garden leftovers, seeds and bugs of real life. Our example in daily life paves the way for how our children will see us living the faith.

    Our chickens are quickly becoming pets. It’s not uncommon for me to see Heather holding one of the Rhode Island Reds or the Barred Rock. But then again, it’s not uncommon for me to be holding one of the hens too.

    A buddy of mine says chickens have a brain the size of a pea. But Heather and I enjoy them in our backyard. We love to see them chase the cats, and the cats chase the chickens. We can embrace their little quirks and feistiness. There’s something gentle and relaxing about watching them in their simplicity and that’s a gift we all can enjoy.

    Posted on November 3, 2010, to:

  • Being a dad is not for chickens

    Recently, I joined a Dads’ group at my parish, St. Aloysius. After attending three meetings, I have to say it’s been a good thing.

    At the first meeting, we listened to a recording of a speaker who instantly caught my attention when he mentioned, every family needs a workshop. Just as Joseph had a workshop where he taught his foster son, Jesus, the carpentry trade, dads need to have a workshop or business for their families. It builds a Catholic family.

    That got me thinking. My dad had a “workshop” of sorts. He was groundskeeper and cleaned the classrooms at St. Aloysius. And my brother David and I helped — although admittingly, I was reluctant at times. Even later, we helped my mom and dad clean offices after my dad retired from the parish work.

    For some time, I had been toying with the idea of raising chickens. I want organic eggs. I even could use the manure as an activator in my Compost Tumbler. I also thought there could be some life lessons for Heather, 7, and it could be a project we could all work on together.

    A workshop of sorts. Of course, that workshop talk in the dads’ gathering was like God speaking to me, “Do it, Tim!”

    So I delved into chicken research. Elizabeth, from the Huntington Orscheln farm store, became my “chicken consultant,” answering lots of questions and providing resource books. I spent time on the Internet researching coops and breeds.

    Visiting www.mypetchicken.com helped me determine that Barred Rocks and Rhode Island Reds would work best for us.

    I am now the proud papa of 10 chickens. We started with seven the first day. One died — there’s that life lesson I’m talking about for Heather. After explaining to Heather that we had to bury the chick and wiping her tears away, I promised we would return to Orscheln the next day and get one or two more chicks. Well, I came home with four more chicks.

    The chicks had been living in a Christmas tree tote box in the garage and growing and growing and growing. They eat a lot! Heather helps feed and water the chicks.
    A visit to Shipshewana produced a chicken coop that perfectly matches my yard shed. My buddy Curt helped me bring the coop home just two weeks ago. His wife, who happens to be Heather’s teacher at St. Aloysius, has named the coop, the “McNugget Mansion.”

    In recent days, the chicks have “graduated” from the Christmas tree tote box to the chicken coop. Heather is fascinated by them. My neighbor kids, the nephews and nieces have also taken a “liking” to the chicks. I’m a bit taken with them too, especially a “pullet” that I named Francesca who likes to jump in my hand and be held. Although I suspect now, that Francesca is actually Frank, a “cockerel.”

    Any roosters, of course, are planned for a move to my friends’ farm. I’m hoping for just eggs — the unfertilized kind. Still, I’m rethinking this as Frank is quickly becoming a pet and, by far, my favorite. He perches himself in the coop, looks out the window and is very friendly.

    So we got the family workshop going, at least in the initial stages, and that Compost Tumbler — well it’s producing some healthy compost these days thanks to our little flock.

    Joseph taught Jesus the carpentry trade, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Jesus had chickens too!

    Posted on June 15, 2010, to:

  • Making Jesus the King of our homes

    Our homes are usually filled with pictures of families and friends, perhaps vacation highlights of the times and people that are important to us. But how much do we embrace pictures of Jesus?

    My family has a tradition of displaying a picture of the Sacred Heart of Jesus in a prominent place in our homes. My grandparents and parents held this tradition dear. My mom’s brothers embrace the tradition in their homes.

    When I was in college and living in an off-campus apartment, my mom sent a framed picture of the Sacred Heart, just like the one that hung in our family’s living room next to the front door, with me to college. When Rose and I married, we hung a picture of the Sacred Heart in the living room, next to the front door.

    An Irish buddy of mine says it is an Irish custom for the Sacred Heart photo to be hanging next to the main entrance of an Irish home.

    My vision of what Jesus looks like is that Sacred Heart photo. Our Lord’s eyes seem to follow you. I am reminded of the pain He suffered when I see the crown of thorns wrapped around His heart.

    When Rose and I moved to the country in southern Allen County, we invited Father William Hodde, a dear family priest who married us, had baptized my wife when she was an infant and served many years as our pastor at St. Aloysius, Yoder, to bless the new house and conduct an Enthronement of the Sacred Heart. The enthronement involved a prayer service as well as a blessing of the photo. Through the enthronement, the family recognizes the kingship of Jesus over the family and home.

    By placing the photo next to our front door, the picture is very noticeable from several vantage points. Our dining room and sunroom look directly towards the photo in the living room. When coming up the stairs from our basement, the photo is prominent. When heading into the bedrooms, we are reminded that Jesus is a part of our family, just like the other photos we have of family members and friends.

    When Jesus appeared to the French nun, St. Margaret Mary Alacoque, in the 1600s, He revealed devotion to the Sacred Heart. One of the promises He gave St. Margaret Mary was: “I will bless every dwelling where an image of My Heart is both exposed and honored.”

    When we consecrate our families and homes to the Sacred Heart, we are offered the graces to stabilize and sanctify the family; to create a Catholic atmosphere and spirit of piety in the home; to bring back the wayward members; and to help console the family members in times of trial and sorrow.

    On June 11, the feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus is celebrated. Several Web resources offer Enthronement information.

    The Enthronement and devotion of the Sacred Heart is a lovely devotional that can easily be brought or recaptured into our homes. It is a reminder that Christ is a part of our family.

    Posted on June 1, 2010, to:

  • Keeping technology, networking in check

    I’ll admit it. I enjoy living in a high-tech age. My favorites are my iPod and downloading music from iTunes. I like having a world of information at my fingertips with the Internet. I am particularly fond of the Apple computers, which I use at home and at work. I have been an Apple geek since my first computer programming class at Bishop Luers High School in the mid-1980s. Nothing frustrates me more than trying to figure out a PC when my brain is wired for a Mac.

    Our work at Today’s Catholic involves digital cameras, a digital microphone, the GuitarBand program for podcasting, e-mail for the delivery of stories, photos and press releases, and the Internet to gather news. These are wonderful tools in the work of evangelization through this newspaper.
    But sometimes I get a bit overwhelmed with the technological and social networking advances. Last year, for example, I gave in and joined Facebook. It’s mostly family and friends from church and work, but I am amazed who requests to be my friend. And I have become “sort of” reconnected with friends from high school and college.

    On postings, I often shudder that people divulge a little too much or the extremely trivial. But it is fun keeping up with my family and friends, seeing family photos, vacation highlights, etc.

    To optimize my time with Facebook, I have chosen not to join any cause invitations. And only rarely do I indulge in “social interviews” or quizzes, or participate in Farmville or Cafe World activities.

    I still prefer face-to-face interaction with my wife, daughter and family. I still prefer a real hug and a handshake. I still like hearing the voice of someone I love on the telephone.

    For me, it is important that I set limits: I’ll use just Facebook, not other social networking sites. I’m careful what I divulge. I don’t let Facebook “rule” my day or life. I tend to check Facebook when I feel like it. Sometimes I go two or three weeks without logging in.

    Now, if Facebook is the rage when my daughter is older, I’ll probably be using it to spy on her and her friends.

    Facebook could easily become an addiction. A story posted on CNN’s Web site last April noted in a quote from Paula Pile, a marriage and family therapist in Greensboro, N.C., “… problems arise when users ignore family and work obligations because they find the Facebook world a more enjoyable place to spend time than the real world.”

    Signs of addiction, Pile said, is losing sleep over Facebook; spending more than an hour a day on Facebook; becoming obsessed with old loves; ignoring work in favor of Facebook; and the thought of getting off Facebook leaves you in a cold sweat.

    Social networking does take time, which is a precious commodity. If you find yourself addicted, try a detox this upcoming Lent: maybe give it up for a while.

    Of course, I also like Pope Benedict XVI’s idea of using Facebook, YouTube and other social networking to evangelize. If you see something you like about our faith, connect your Facebook friends to it. You never know who you are touching with the love of Christ.

    Posted on February 2, 2010, to:

  • Golden moments on the trampoline

    Up and down, up and down. Bouncing, bouncing.

    My wife Rose and I have been talking for a few years about getting a trampoline for our daughter, who will soon turn seven. We thought it would be a good way for Heather to work off some energy and enhance some coordination skills.

    So when I found a bargain, we broke down and made the purchase. My efforts on Labor Day weekend included assembling the trampoline and the protective netting “cage” — a task in itself considering I am pretty mechanically-challenged. It makes me thankful that I’m an editor and did not have to follow the pursuits of Our Lord and his foster father, St. Joseph, in the field of carpentry.

    That being said, what would take an hour or two to assemble, took me about six hours, so it seemed. At the end of the construction, my 6-year-old assistant and I were putting up the final touches in the drizzle.

    That night my bones ached, mostly from pulling the springs from the tarp to the frame.
    Now the fun begins. It seems my little darling will only jump on the trampoline if I’m jumping with her.

    So I’ve learned in the last few weeks, that jumping on a trampoline is one of the best workouts one could ask for. Trust me, it burns not just calories, but joints, ankles, hips, wrists, elbows and muscles that I didn’t know even existed.

    There’s no rule that prohibits a 44-year-old dad from jumping on the trampoline. I’ve learned to limit my time on the trampoline to 15 minutes, or 300 jumps with rest periods between every set of 100.

    It also gives me a few minutes each day to share with Heather and have some fun. Time flies and one day in the distant future she won’t want any part of jumping on the trampoline with the “old man” around. So, I’ll offer up those achy bones and sore muscles now and thank God for the present time I have with my daughter.

    In a few weeks, weather will dictate disassembling the trampoline for winter storage in the shed. Until then, if you pass by and see a “geezer” out in the backyard playing with a kid, don’t think I lost my marbles, rather I found some golden moments.

    Posted on September 23, 2009, to: