Jake

Wanted to tell you a story about a chicken.

His name was Jake.

We raised 60 roosters this Summer.

20   Black-australorp’s

20 Silver- laced Wynadotte

and 20 Rhode Island Red’s.

Every morning I would open the door to the brooder house. The young roosters  would rush  the door like shoppers  on Black Friday….

all except the Rhode Island Red’s.  Only two of them were ever determined enough to go outside to put up with the constant harassment.

The Australorps and Wynadottes’s would simply   not allow the Rhode Island Red’s to leave the brooder house  to forage…

even in the 100 degree heat this past July.

Chickens really do have a “pecking order.”

Normally, once that has been established, the  pecking will taper off.

Unfortunately, it didn’t.

One of the two Rhode Island red’s I would see outside on occasion was missing all of his long tail feathers and many of the feathers on the back of his wings. (the other chickens had pulled them out)

In spite of the constant pecking, this red rooster would come outside and make the best of it.

He became very aggressive, even with me.

4 weeks ago, when I opened the door of the brooder house. I noticed a Rhode Island Red rooster giving me the evil eye.

7  feet away, on a perch .

He caught my eye, because of the way in which he was moving his head back and forth…

It felt like he was trying to judge the distance between us.

I imagined him thinking…

“Can I reach him  if  I really go for it?”

The next thing I knew he was in my face.

Sure enough, the red rooster without any tail feathers.

I decided right then and there to take him out of the mix and put him in a building by himself.  As much as I wanted him to have the freedom to run around outside, it was either that, or continue to allow the other chickens to pick on him and he become even more violent.

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He reminded me of a young man I met a few years ago.

His name was Jake (not his real name)

I taught a construction class @ the local community college/ started out with a dozen young roosters, I mean men..

Two weeks into school, two of the roosters, I mean  students, decided to challenge my authority.

It wasn’t pretty, but  when the dust settled, they knew  who was in charge.

I found out later, one of them, had lost his mother two years before  to cancer and had been having run-in’s with  authority figures ever since.

Just knowing that, changed my attitude.  Instead of wanting to kick him out of the program  so I wouldn’t have to deal with him, I was challenged by a friend to pray for him.

When someone knows you respect them as a person, but will not tolerate their crap, it is amazing to watch their heart  change.  I saw it in Jake the student, and I was beginning to see it in Jake the rooster.

Yesterday was “butchering day” on the farm.

It’s pretty quiet outside this morning.

I debated what to do with Jake.

I’m sure he would  have attacked another person if he had the chance

Since he’s a rooster, there are no eggs.

Plus I already have a pet Rooster…

his name is Little Moe with the gimpy leg

Economic sense told me the best thing to do was butcher him with the rest of them….

I could have went either way.

 Jake

If you’re ever in the area, (we live in Iowa)   I’d love to introduce you to Jake and Little Moe

Sometimes stories really do have a happy ending.

Little Moe

Little Moe with the gimpy leg

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Rebekah tagged him  little Moe with the gimpy leg within the first couple of days after we got him. (She loves to quote lines out of old movies and said it was  from  Home Alone 2)

We’re raising 60  baby chicks this summer to butcher  in conjunction with 5 other local families.   free range and organic grain to supplement  their caloric intake.  We’ve had them now for 18 days.

While the other 59  chicks will run at the first hint of danger,  Little Moe will just stand there…..one thousand one, one thousand two… before he hobbles away,dragging his right leg behind him. burying his little body into mass of other baby chicks in the corner of the  room.

You’ve no doubt heard of the term “pecking order”.  There really is such a thing in the animal kingdom.  It comes from the chicken house.

Chickens really do establish who is the top dog (or chicken) in the flock.

Guess who’s @ the bottom of the pecking order?

Yep.

Little Moe.

I’ve always had a tender spot for the underdog  even back  in school.   While I was not low man on the pecking order,  I was certainly not at the top either.  Which in large measure why I do not  have many fond memories of my time in school.

I hated school.

It got worse once I hit 7th grade.

I can still remember  Ray, Randy, and Jeff pushing Greg out of the locker room with nothing on but his  jock strap.  Where the teacher was I have no idea.  Our locker rooms were right down the hall from the student center…

imagine  getting thrown out  into plain view of a  group of your peers with  little or nothing on…..

Another thing  the bullies  loved to do was come up behind you when you least expected it and pull your  gym shorts down.  they called it de-pants-ing…  Luckily, neither of those things ever happened to me, but I lived in constant fear of it happening from 7th grade right up until my senior year.

There was a girl in our class…Her name was Debbie Cooper. Kids called her “De-coop”    She was from a poor farm family.  She’d developed early, was somewhat over weight, wore thick horn rimmed glasses.  Gary  loved to harass Debbie…until she’d take a swing at him and then he’d laugh.

We had another girl  named Denise.  Pretty.  Transferred into our class  when we were in 6th grade.  Her mom had died and her dad was doing the best  to raise 2 girls and a boy.   I can still remember sitting in our 6th grade choir room, looking outside while another class of 6th graders were   outside for recess.  Gary  (yep, same one)  came up to Denise and pushed her down into the snow.   Where were the teachers????

Denise was shy .

All she wanted was to fit in. Somebody tagged her with the nickname “Scarecrow” ….

 

Imagine being a girl with a nick name like Scarecrow.

Want to close with  a short plug for an excellent book on this topic of bullying and emotional abuse.

Frank Peretti tells his true story  in the book he’s titled The Wounded Spirit

It is a must read for anyone who has been in the receiving end of this sort of thing.

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Getting back to little Moe.  I’ve already decided we’re going to keep him long term….

Any thoughts or experiences on this whole issue of pecking orders and bullying?

As always thanks for taking the time to read my stuff.  DM

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Update 4 hours later.…just brought my tomatoes in for the night.

I’m in the process of “hardening” them…In case you’re new to gardening,   these tomatoes were raised under a grow light in the basement and the cell structure in the plants is not strong enough to handle the wind and elements initially, so for a week or two before I finally plant them in the ground, I set them out during the day, give them a controlled exposure to the elements.

At night I bring them back inside and allow them to recover….unfortunately, a couple of the plants were really  tested today and two of them snapped in half.  My mind instantly went to this blog post about adversity and while some adversity is good for us (as Trish pointed out) making us stronger,  it is possible to  be broken long term…just like this:

Brandywine tomato plant snapped off by the wind  today

2 trays of tomatoes just in from a day of adversity.  Tray on the right doesn’t look to bad.  Tray on the left had a harder day.

Finding my place in the pecking order

Caution:  The language in this post will be offensive to some,so proceed accordingly.

Picture of me and Uncle Dan-  That’s me on the right.

I approached Uncle Dan (not his real name) about a part-time job as a laborer on his construction crew last week.     I have been self-employed since 1990.  I am used to running my own crew,  bidding jobs, dealing with cash flow,  working with grumpy customers, etc. but I am not above flipping burgers or working for someone else to pay the bills.

I started on Tuesday. 

 I have worked with several of these guys over the years, so I know most of them.      Tuesday we began framing a 100 ft by 48 ft pole building w/ 16 ft high side walls.  The temperature in the mornings was single digit.  Welcome to Iowa in December

   Tuesday night I commented to my wife, things went pretty well that first day.

Day two (Wednesday)  Things on the crew started to feel more relaxed.    There was some  teasing, etc.  

 I was running the level while Uncle Dan  and Jordan (not his real name) attempted  to drive  steel stakes into the frozen tundra.   I say “attempted” because  we have   6 inches of frost  already and the stakes do not want to go in.  I could tell Jordan was getting frustrated .   When I told him to go ahead and put a nail in the brace, the wall was plumb, either he couldn’t hear me  due to the loud background noise of an engine running or didn’t understand what I’d said, so I repeated myself a little louder:

 “It’s good.  Nail it.”

   Jordan growled,  “You need to speak up you dumb F#@ker.”"

     I replied,  ” I said it was ready- and  you’re the  dumb f#@ker.”

My response took  him  (and me) by surprise. 

You could almost see the gears  turning in his head…. him trying to figure out what to do with me.

Side note- before I became a Christian, I swore  – a lot.  

 Just because I rarely swear or loose my cool now, doesn’t mean it can’t  happen.     

An hour later, Jordan and I were still working together. 

We were lifting 20 foot sections of wall with a machine.

I had been hooking them up to the  lift but Jordan thought he would give it a try.  He looped the strap around differently than I had been doing- Uncle Dan told him to take it off and do it my way.

  Jordan barked @ me for letting him hook it up wrong.

I looked at him and said, “Now if I would have corrected you, you would have been mad, so what am I supposed to do?

He again called me a “dumb f#&ker”  

 I replied,  “No- You’re the dumb f@*er”

That’s not a very “Christian” thing to say”  he said.

“Well, what you said wasn’t very  “Christian like” either,” I replied with a smile.

Another foot note-  I like Jordan.  There’s a part of me that feels sorry for him.  He has a lot of heart ache in his life…but in my mind, staying quiet was not an option…he was verbally challenging me, and I felt what was needed was for me to push back-  hard… talk to him in a way he could understand. 

 Sometimes people have this notion that just because you’re a Christian you can’t use “strong “language.     The fact is,  there are some really powerful , earthy word pictures throughout the Bible.  Not going to go and start quoting verses on you, but  if you  want some examples, let me know.

Later that afternoon, I went up to Jordan and told him I was sorry for calling him a dumb  fu_ _ er.  He apologized and said he was sorry for calling me  a dumb f_ _cker.

I’m cautiously optimistic that  this will be the end of it. (deciding where I fit in the pecking order) 

A rooster (like many animals)  can sense when you’re afraid. 

 The trick is to know when to do what.  It is the same way in dealing with people.  It takes wisdom to know when to keep your mouth shut and when to speak up.

Picture of me just after I caught all three of my dad’s roosters.

What Do You See?

      “When you look at me Father, what do you see?

      “I see a scared little boy, who needs his Father…. you’re coming home with me, meet me down stairs.”

There is a pause in the conversation….and then:

      “But I’m not a little boy any more, I am a man, I am an Olympian…and I’m not going to go with you “

                              from the movie,   Cool Running

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    Have you seen the movie Cool Running?  Its a slap stick comedy based on a true story about a Jamaican bobsled team.   Silly movie with some great messages. 

   One of the team members  has a rich father who treats his son like he’s still 10 years old- even though he’s finished college and made  the Jamaican team for the Olympics.    Boy is still intimidated by his dad..a watershed moment comes in their relationships after another team member sees his insecurity and gives him a new vision for who he  can be as his son.  A portion of their conversation  is how this musing started out.

      You – what do you see when you look in the mirror?  A scared little boy (or girl)?    It doesn’t matter what your parents see- what matters is what you see…and unfortunately,  some parents will continue to treat you as their child until you call them on it.

     I’ve been blessed with 4 children-  as a parent I see 4  people who have blossomed into young adults…our relationship has changed they are now my peers…and the amazing thing is..they still want to keep in touch, they tell me that they love me and even give me  hugs

     Here’s a picture of some of us on Christmas eve:  

      

     Wishing  those of you that know us…. A Merry Christmas  DM

Jake, and the “F” word

     I started working for my dad  when I was 14.   One of the ”old timers” was Jake. He was quiet, gruff and a little   intimidating.     Flash forward to a few years ago.  I’d been away from dad’s crew for 15 years and our  crew was  asked to  help on a large project.

     Side note….when I was younger, I cursed like a sailor, so much so the other men on the crew would ask me to tone it down sometimes  .  I tried…I honestly tried, but like any other  bad  habit, I couldn’t kick it.     Words are  simply  an indication  of what’s in our heart.   if you listen to someone long enough, you’ll usually  get  a glimpse into the real person.  When I became a Christian, one of the biggest indications to me that something profound had happened on the inside  was my ability to hold my tongue.   It was surreal.   ( hold that thought.)

      Getting back to my story.   I’d been gone several years, Paul, Matt and myself were working along side Jake and the rest of dad’s crew.  We were  25 feet  up in the air on a lift:

       installing 20 foot pieces of sheet metal over our heads.   It was hot,  metal filings would fall on your face, inside your shirt,  on your arms. Speaking of arms, they  were getting tired  from  working overhead.  It was at this point that we lost electricity to our screw guns.

 

     I looked down, there was Jake not too far from the electrical chords.  I called down, ” Hey Jake, could  you check our chord?  We lost electricity.”’

    Jake looked at me , cocked his head and  growled something in our direction.

    Out of nowhere, I heard  a loud voice 

 ”Plug in the f***’n cord!”  

  Whoa..where did that come from?    Paul and Matt  looked at me incredulously  then burst out laughing.

     Jake, like a dog with his  tail between his legs ran over to the cluster of chords, wiggled them and we had juice.  

      Something   happened that day.   I”m still not sure I completely understand it, but   It marked a change in my relationship with Jake.  I expected him to give me the cold shoulder after that, but the opposite  happened. (I’ve sensed nothing but respect)     Now I’m not advocating we all go out and start swearing to get people in line,   but relationships are a funny thing.  What do you think happened between me and Jake?

Interpersonal Relationships Graduate Program

     “Would you have a set of scaffolding I could use for a couple of days?”  

       That conversation signaled the beginning of  my work  relationship with Don Winters, (not his real name) the past 3 years.  We settled up and  parted company this past weekend on good terms.  That is an amazing feat in itself.  I enjoyed my time with him  but there were moments  it felt like I was riding  one of these:

  

       “Be at peace with all men, so far as depends upon you….is one of my life principles.  I don’t “do” unresolved conflict very well.  If there is tension in my relationship with you , I will address it.   Early on, two people cautioned me that Don could  be pushy and dare I say manipulative…just give him some time   They were right. 

     I hate conflict and tend to be a people pleas-er, so working with Don forced me out of my comfort zone.  In the 30 months I worked for him, I had to aggressively pursue getting paid every time. Early on, I had to let him know, unlike his other men, my crew  would  take a morning coffee break.   When you’re doing heavy physical labor you burn between 5000-7500 calories a day….so by 10 AM I  need my sugar.

     We almost parted company on strained terms.  Last March , some of you may recall, my Cousin Michelle passed away in a tragic accident.   I didn’t work the day of the funeral, but  a couple of my guys did.  Don left a grumpy message on my voice mail about how little my crew got done that day.  That did not sit well with me .  I commented to my wife I was not going to put up with it.  On the ride to work  next Monday, I asked Ben about Don’s message.  I began to entertain thoughts of severing my working relationship  with him.   When we got to the job-site, the first thing out of Don’s mouth was “Did you see how little your guys got done on Friday?”

             I was standing about 18 inches from him and I let him have it…remember, I’d been building up a head of steam ever since I’d listened to that voice message.)  Eye ball to eye ball, I told him that was it- I was done working for him… “I’m almost 50 years old and I’m not going to put up with this stuff. ”

      It was  like an out of body experience…it felt like I was watching my dad  straighten out  this 60 yr old bully.  I didn’t swear  (I might have said bull sh*t).    We both knew I was right… he started back peddling, telling me we needed to go out for a cup of coffee  or something to talk this out.  “I don’t think so”  I thought to myself…

    We didn’t part company that day, in fact, we worked together for another year….Don- if you ever read this..just want you to know..I did enjoy my time with you.

    But now it’s time to award myself this certificate:

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School Of Life

Graduate Program

 

        The bearer of this certificate has demonstrated  the ability to hold his ground in a relationship with someone known to intimidate 90% of the population…By virtue of the fact he was able to collect his last check,and leave on good terms.

    The recipient is hereby awarded a Masters Degree in the area of getting along with tough people.

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     Several of you have expressed frustration in some of your work relationships,  I know God uses these situations  to grow us…but at what point do you draw a line in the sand and say “Enough is enough?”

    

Don’t Mess With The Bull

      Opa was a quiet man, - gentle soul, wish you could have met him.  One of the stories he loved to tell happened before he was married.

     I suppose he was 19 or 20.  A farm boy, German background, back in the 1920′s.  One Saturday afternoon, he stopped by Clarence Hayen’s General store.  Grandpa said he was collecting money for the Wayne Lutheran Church and needed to see Clarence.  There were some young men hanging around  the store for the  dance that night.

      Grandpa said  he told the fellas “Hi” but  all he got was  a few grunts.  In those days, the German’s were not always  liked.   

      As he walked out of the store someone hit him on the back of the head.  I’ll let grandpa tell you what happened next:

     “When I walked out of the door, someone hit me from behind.   They put me on my knees.  About 5 or 6 of them piled on top of me.  All I could think of was they wanted my money.  I shook them off and started swinging.  By the time I finished, the last one was running to the car crying like a baby.  He got to the car and locked the door.”

     What those boys didn’t realize was grandpa was one of 8 brothers  who loved to wrestle.  He stood 6 ft  3 in his prime, 240 pounds.  He once took  a live market hog (220 pounds of squealing pork )and threw it over a fence.   Those boys had picked the wrong person. 

     Next Monday, Grandpa was at the  farm of one of his assailants buying hogs.  He brought the incident up to the father  he was feeling bad he had  beat up his son. 

     “John he said,  those boys had it coming- I’m glad you whipped them good. ”   About then  the boy came out of the house a big hand print on the side of his face.

      There’s a saying in these parts…”If you mess with the bull, you may get the horns”

When Sexual Harassment Comes Knocking

       I am a dad to 3 beautiful daughers.   They have all grown up  and moved out,  the oldest is home this week visiting with our granddaughter.   Today for the 7th time in my life I got wind that someone had sexually harassed one of them.   It takes a lot to get me angry, and this is one of those situations.  As she was coming to our house , a semi driver driving a fuel tanker began to honk and attempt to get her attention.  At first she (my daugher) thought  there was something wrong w/ her car and he was trying to get her attention. She tried to pass and he sped up the truck so she decided to get behind him  at which point, he started to slow down….this went on for several minutes until she finally got to her exit….he was still honking and making gestures as he continued on.

     I asked her if she knew the name of the trucking company..yep, it is _ _ _ _ _..the name was on the mudflaps. …so, armed with that information, I got onto the internet, typed in the name of the company, found their website and e-mailed them this note:

To Whom it may concern, Today is July 19 2007. I just got home for lunch to the news that my 27 yr old daughter was “propositioned” by one of your fuel truck drivers as he was driving North on Hwy *** between A.  and B . she said that as she was passing him (it is a divided highway) he honked at her and continued to indicate something was up. She thought maybe there was something wrong w/ her car and he was signing her to pull over….This went on for several minutes. She slowed down but eventually decided just to pass him. As she did, he made a gesture which she took to mean he wanted sex. she had out of state plates so it probably looked like she was traveling across country. I’m not sure how easy it would be to identify who the driver was, but she said it was a semi fuel truck w/**** mudflaps. Needless to say, as her dad I would like to give the trucker a piece of my mind. My daughter also was carrying my grandchiid in the car with her and the whole thing shook her (my daugher up) Any thing you can do to address this situation would be appreciated. DM

       The other 6 situations all make my bloodpressure rise if I allow myself to dwell on them.  In 4 of the other situations where the girls were harassed I took the bull by the horns and confronted someone.  A 5th situation resulted in a trip to an emergency room and a call to the police.  In the 6th case,  we didn’t do anything because of various circumstances….but nothing prepares you as a dad for this sort of thing….nothing….Anyway, this is not one of those “upbeat” positive thinking posts as much as me needing to vent………..I’m HOPING the trucking company will in fact track down the driver and he and I get to have an eyeball to eyeball visit before it’s all done.     Any  thoughts?

Generations

       Opa is German for Grandpa.  My Opa’s name was John,  one of 13 children, 8 boys and 5 girls.  He grew up farming with horses.  His influence in my life still casts  a  shadow.  (Hence the picture of the tree)    In his prime, he stood  6 foot 2, weighed  240 pounds.  One of the gentlest, most soft hearted men you would ever meet.  I heard it said more than once, there was not a person Grandpa didn’t get along with….that’s probably where I get some of my disposition.  There were a couple of times however   he didn’t get along with everyone.  :-)    Keep in mind he was a farm boy in his early twenties.  One Saturday afternoon   he stopped by the general store to collect a donation from Bill the  store owner.  4 or 5  young men were hanging around the general store waiting for a  dance to begin.    Opa  said “hi”  but was greeted by grunts.  As he walked out of the door a few minutes later, one of the young men  hit him on the back of the head.   I’ll let Opa tell you what happened next….”As I came out the door of the store someone hit me from behind, the next thing I knew I had 4 or 5 guys piling on top of me.  After my  initial surprise I got  up and started swinging.  By the time I was done the last boy had run to his car and was crying like a baby.”

 Lesson from the farm  : If you mess with the bull, you may get the horn. 

     Sara Groves sings a song simply titled Generations … “Remind me of this with every decisions  Generations will reap what I sow  I can pass on a curse or a blessing     To those I will never know “   Powerful words.  

     How does this story from the life of  my Opa cast a shadow?  Would you allow me to share with you a second story?

      When my dad (Opa’s oldest  son) began  attending  country school, (age 5)   he was teased mercilessly by one of  the other kids about his last name.  His name was Munk.   The bully was  calling him “monkey, monkey”   It got to the point where dad didn’t want to go  to school.  Either the teacher didn’t know what was happening or refused to deal with it.   Again, I’ll let Opa tell what happened next:   “I made an appointment with the teacher and told him,  ” My son does not want to come to school. His name is Munk, not monkey.   Either you deal with it here at school or I will go to the father (of the bully) and beat the @%$# out of him.”   End of discussion.    That’s all it took.    The teasing stopped.   I always wondered about that threat….why was he going to beat up the dad? 

      Personality wise, I am a lot like my Opa.    I hate conflict.   Sometimes, because of the  world in which we live, we don’t have to go looking for trouble,  sometimes it finds us .   At that moment, we have a choice….get the tar beat out of us or stand our ground.    Sometimes Christians have this notion we are always called to “turn the other cheek”.  I would disagree.  There may be times when that is our response, and there may be times when I say  “Enough is enough”.   

      I don’t think Opa should have just laid there and allowed the young men to beat him up, and taken his money.    I don’t think anyone would have been better off, had he not confronted the bullying…..who knows how that would have affected my dad long term. 

       Is there ever a time to fight, speak up, defend another…or as Christians is “turn the other cheek” your primary response to agression?  You already know what I think…I would love to hear your thoughts on this one.  Again,   thanks for reading.