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Winfred Johnson
Some people dream of running away with the
circus; Winfred Johnson had a better idea - he stayed home
with the zoo. Born in McKenzie in 1957 to parents Troy and
Wilma Johnson, Winfred grew up among a plethora of
animals: "We had peacocks, racing pigeons, barn pigeons,
pheasants, quail, goats, cattle, and guineas," says
Winfred while walking amid his own unconventional farming
operation in the Jarrell community, located between
McKenzie and Trezevant.
Winfred attended school at Trezevant through the seventh
grade before moving with his parents to Morris, Illinois
(near Chicago) in 1970, where his father found employment
at Alumax Mill Products. In time, Winfred and his four
brothers - Alfred, Wilfred, Aldred, and Wreford - also
worked at the plant. (His sister, Janie, pursued a career
as a nurse practitioner.) When Troy and Wilma moved back
to Tennessee upon their retirement, Winfred remained in
Illinois for another ten years before making his way back
home. He had met the lady who would become his wife there,
but as their lives meshed over the years, their choices
brought them closer and closer to moving back to Winfred's
roots.
"I met Heather at Hardees," he says, describing his
appearance as less than attractive when he stopped in for
a bite to eat after a hard, dirty day of working on some
of the rental properties he and his brothers owned and
managed in Illinois. "She waited on me and it kinda went
from there," he continues, then after a pause, scuffs the
dirt inside a pen filled with exotic looking peacocks,
pheasants and pigeons and says, "She lost her job on
account of me."
The couple have come a long way since meeting around 1988,
eventually selling their rental properties in Illinois
while investing in properties in Memphis and Jackson. They
also began experimenting with a small pigeon operation,
"learning the dos and don'ts," explains Winfred.
In 2000, they moved to Winfred's old stomping grounds with
their tow-headed youngsters, Hannah and Jack, now six and
four years old. In a few short years, they have developed
a pigeon establishment that would be the envy of any
pigeon-racing aficionado, with a healthy start toward a
picturesque farm that is a pleasant blend of old-time,
natural charm and modern convenience.
"What got me started with this, is you always come back to
your raising," explains Winfred, "Pretty much what I'm
doing here is what Dad did when I was a kid; I used to
think we had a zoo back then."
Getting to the farm is just the beginning of an adventure
in wonderland for lovers of nature and animals. A charming
wooden bridge complete with cedar post railings rises over
the creek bed that runs between the Johnson home and farm,
while the meandering road reveals decorative street lamps
that soon give way, unnoticed until they are lit, to a row
of traditional pine-trunk street lights that extend all
the way to the third pasture.
Past the well-constructed, covered fowl enclosures on the
right as you enter the farm's arena, another large pen
provides romping space for the Johnson's two husky,
heavily furred, curled-tailed white Alaskan Malamutes that
Winfred got as pups from a friend who lives, summer and
winter, in Fairbanks, Alaska. "Most people leave when the
weather gets bad," Winfred declares as he quotes his
friend's estimation of the Alaskan wilderness: 'When you
get up here you're on the food chain!'"
Winter snows this year allowed the big dogs to serve the
purpose of their breed when fun-in-the-snow at the Johnson
home meant hitching them up to a sled for a romp across
thick white fields.
Across a graveled road sits a sturdy natural wood barn
that currently provides shelter for the bright red,
shallowly-humped Santa Gertrudis cattle that add to the
unique appeal of the farm. About five-eighths Shorthorn
and three-eighths Brahman, Santa Gertrudis cattle are
recognized not only for their hardy endurance on rough
pasture but also for heat and tick resistance, ease of
calving, and good mothering ability with an abundant milk
supply. Animal lovers will simply love their big, soulful
eyes, richly colored coats and cautious curiosity.
Across the enclosure to the rear is the pheasant run
Winfred built last summer, that provides shelter for
peacocks, pheasants, and other fowl. "I do a project at a
time," explains Winfred, who is currently working on an
addition to the barn, which will double as an equipment
hangar until he is finished with the huge garage that is
presently just a big foundational slab and dreams. After
the garage is completed, he plans to do some fencing. Each
of Winfred's do-it-yourself projects shows uncommon
ingenuity, such as the bed rail angles he installs atop
stall walls to eliminate the common, unhealthy problem of
horses "cribbing" or chewing the wood.
Heather is queen of the pheasants and peacocks, both
beautifully adorned in colors ranging from the natural
browns, tans, and whites of the oaten peacock to the
golden red and golden yellow pheasants to the iridescence
of the India Blue peacock and Impeyan pheasant.
"It takes a year for them to get their color," Winfred
tutors, sharing Heather's business secrets. She doesn't
mind buying the young, scruffier versions of the birds
that develop their beauty with age, he says. After all,
she has been known to pick up a young $10 bird that will
sell for $150 to $280 the following year. As an example,
Winfred compares a short tailed, plain colored youngster
with his full-plumed, brilliantly colored relative who is
a year older.
Saving the best for last, perhaps, comes Winfred's pigeon
loft, handcrafted with safety, health and comfort in mind
for the birds that comprise his fondest hobby. Indoors, a
hall separates pedigreed birds on the left and
non-pedigreed birds on the right, which are further
separated into stalls according to breed and/or color.
Each stall opens to a six-foot high, outdoor fly pen.
Details like ceiling fans, automatic waterers and heated
water bowls during freezing weather show Winfred's
dedication to his hobby. Fences begin below ground to
discourage predators, and doors that allow the birds to
fly from the pens are also varmint proofed. Each stall in
singly lit and equipped with dimmer switches to allow
mothers to more easily feed their babies at night. "People
come out here that's into this kind of stuff, they just go
nuts over my pen," Winfred shares, his enthusiasm and
willingness to teach compelling.
Sometimes, Winfred confides, he simply sits and watches
the birds, picking up from their behavior their quality of
health, which birds are mated (they frequently mate for
life, he explains) and other aspects of the birds that
have their own distinct personalities, according to
Winfred, who is a walking encyclopedia of the interesting
birds.
A pigeon that is given food but not water can't feed their
young, he explains, detailing the need for an
uninterrupted water supply. Both male and female pigeons
have milk glands in their chests, and both share the duty
of sitting on the nest and caring for their young, he
elaborates, with hens taking their turn in the mornings
and late evening through the night, and the cocks sitting
during the middle of the day.
Winfred's pigeons bear names related to their colors, such
as reds, blue grizzles, opals, blue almonds, or strains,
like Bastins, Trentons and Sions. He has his hopes set for
the moment, however, on a pair of Staff Van Reets he plans
to enter in the National Breeder's Challenge pigeon race
offered by Kentucky lakes Loft in Calvert City, Kentucky.
The three-race challenge that offers 96 ways to win with a
total payout of $200,000 and a top prize in the 325 mile
race of $30,000 reveals that pigeon fanciers have more
reasons to enjoy their hobby than the comforting coos and
diverse colors and personalities among the breeds.
Six-year-old Hannah Johnson won "Best of Show" with
her bird "Spot" in the Junior Grand Championships
held last year at the National Young Bird Show in
Louisville, Kentucky. |
Contests like th National Breeders Challenge, Winfred
attests, are a breakthrough for busy pigeon racing
enthusiasts. Traditionally, trainers who were able to
devote more time to training prevailed over fanciers who
worked fulltime. The "one loft" concept employed in more
recent challenges gives each participant an equal chance
at winning, without the necessity of club membership or
time to train. Instead, the birds are boarded and trained
at the loft that is host to the challenge, making breeding
the primary criteria of the winning birds.
The races are possible due to the pigeons' natural homing
instinct; the birds return to the place they call home.
For this reason, birds sold after a certain age sometimes
return to Winfred's loft, or he will receive a phone call
across several states from someone who has found one of
"his birds", identifiable by the band around the bird's
leg on which his name and address is easily readable. The
other leg bears a band with the bird's official number.
Winfred describes his own training process whereby he or
Heather looses the birds first at the end of the pasture,
then two miles, then five. Each time the bird returns to
the loft and enters its own pen through one of Winfred's
specially made doors that allow pigeons to enter the pen
while others are unable to fly out.
"If they're doing good you can jump miles real quick,"
coaches Winfred, who says some trainers stop after fifty
miles. He tells of specialized training precepts whereby
trainers separate the hen and one baby, leaving the cock
alone with the other baby (the pair typically raises two
babies at a time) then releases him miles away from home.
"He knows he's the only one taking care of that baby so he
gets back really quick," says Winfred in an enlightening
view of the birds' devotion to their young.
Other trainers, he says, leave a cock with its mate for
just a few minutes, then release him far away. He knows
when he gets back to her, he will get to spend the whole
day in her company, a fact that speeds his return.
Like Heather's birds, Winfred says pigeon enthusiasts can
buy birds from anywhere between $20 and $80,000. "It's
like anything, you can buy a car for $400 or $400,000," he
says, telling stories of $2 and $5 birds that have gone on
to championships for their owners. Once a skeptic of such
stories, Winfred was made a believer when one of his own
early customers won with a $5.00 bird sold by Heather
while the couple was getting their start in Illinois.
"I like it, it's hard to get me out of here," says Winfred
dreamily as a black and white bunny nibbles on nearby
vegetation. It's another way the couple makes their farm a
fun place to be. "We buy them and keep them up a week or
two then turn them loose; it's just nice to see them
running around," he says.
In his own little Shangri la, it's the simple things of
life that make Winfred's heart soar; looking from beneath
his tractor to find his son lying underneath his tricycle
mimicking his father's work; seeing the smile on his
daughter's face after winning her own first pigeon race;
working side by side on projects at the farm with his
wife, and attending the same church - Zion Cumberland
Presbyterian Church in the Jarrell Community - that his
parents and grandparents attended.
Even hunting takes on a unique twist with Winfred, who
along with his brother Alfred, a falconer, hunts with
red-tailed hawks. "You can catch more squirrels with a
hawk than a gun," says Winfred, bright-eyed and eager for
his brother's upcoming visit.
He explains the quaint practice with a lesson on the
hawk's mentality. "You hunt a hawk while he's hungry," he
says, "Then when he brings the squirrel back you transfer
a little piece of meat for him to give up the squirrel."
The squirrel goes in the hunter's vest, while a hood goes
over the hawk's head. "They don't think like we do,"
Winfred continues, "They don't think, 'Hey, you've got my
squirrel behind you.' When you put the hood on his head,
you have to wait until he ruffles his feathers; when he
shakes his feathers he's ready to hunt again; it's like a
new day to him when you take the hood off."
The majesty of the hawk's prowess with it's eagle-eyed
vision, its swiftness to its target, and its graceful,
aerial acrobatics are the aspects of the hunt Winfred
finds thrilling to behold.
"They can go right around a tree; they're big birds but
they can hug a trunk," he describes with curving hand. "I
don't care much for the killing part, but a bird hunting a
squirrel - I call that sport," he smiles, as one with his
surroundings as a man can be in a modern world.
To learn more about pigeon racing, or to peruse Winfred
and Heather's fine crop of fowl, give the Johnson's a call
at 731-352-2671.
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