September 10, 2021
Hudsonville, Michigan, near Grand Rapids
Well,
this morning began with a thud.
We
set out from home mid-morning yesterday. The Passenger was slightly
amazed at how quickly old routines settled into place. She added her
backpack, sewing bag and computer bag to the trucker’s duffle bag
and they were off. Previously the Trucker had cleaned, inside and
out, and added bedding on the upper and lower bunks.
As
the miles rolled by, she dispatched all the bits and pieces of her
to-do list still swirling through her head. Recent, long overdue
repairs to the truck made it possible to cross stitch without drawing
blood from jolts to the needle. Sporadic conversation planned an
upcoming event, and they even attempted to solve a few of the world’s
problems.
The
Trucker and his Passenger arrived at 10pm last night, having done the
whole run from home to delivery point. A bit over an hour prior, the
he had passed over a lovely, empty rest area, wanting to park a bit
closer to the delivery point, and knowing a truckstop was a few miles
out.
But,
said truckstop had literally no room at the inn. They could have
rearranged a few trucks to fit ourselves in, especially that pickup
truck who had planted himself in a big truck’s parking space...but
not for them to do.
So,
on to the chicken location. The Trucker rolled through the lot,
selecting a parking space he judged most likely out of the way for
incoming morning traffic. Quiet and calm it was, a lovely place to
sleep. The sky was clear and freckled with bright stars. No
facilities, but we hoped for an option in the morning.
In
the morning… the Passenger awoke at her accustomed time somewhere
around dark-fifteen o’clock, and was feeling every bit of a night
on a thin hard mattress in the upper bunk. The Trucker’s
accommodation was much cushier, but not wide enough for two. Since
he does the work, she decided not to disturb him by relocating into
his space.
Long
about 6:30am, lights began coming on in the warehouse, and the need
for facilities was reaching a point of no return. The Trucker moved
to the driver’s seat to pull on his boots. With him out of the
way, the Passenger, who was delighted to discover the night before
that she still had what it took to vault up to the top bunk, began
her dismount.
This
too, was a routine easily fallen back into. Unfortunately,
literally. Learn forward, grab the ledge under the window. Lean
down, grab the seat back with the other hand. Slide down to place a
foot onto the lower bunk’s edge, and drop. Well, she missed. And
forgot socks are a bad idea when traction is important. A free fall
and a twist landed her posterior hard onto the floor between the
seats, slapping the gearshift forward as the rest of her arrived.
Thankfully that twist prevented a face plant on the floor. It all
happened so fast...as they say.
Sound
effects must have accompanied her flight, as the startled Trucker
whipped around, but his grab was too late and too restricted in the
small space. Visions of an ER visit must have danced in his head by
his facial expression. But no injuries to report, except to her
pride. And a bit around the edges, where the seat belt buckles on
the sides of the seats attempted a grab of their own.
Ah
me, those “edges” will feel every jolt of the ride, me thinks.
This is embarrassing!
Recovery
accomplished, the Trucker and his Passenger met a friendly farm
employee in the parking lot, who commended the Trucker for his
out-of-the-way parking choice. A “farm restroom” was offered
“as-is” and gratefully accepted. Apparently the farm manager
relied heavily on black permanent marker on a frequent basis, for it
was employed to write instructions on the wall for use of the
facility, on the back of the door for when it was to be left open or
closed according to the weather, and on the lid of the throne for
what should and should not be done there. But, any port in a storm!
A
second manager arrived and led them across the road, down a field
lane, to a row of layer chicken houses. The company also raises
their own pullets; those were housed down the road at yet another
facility. Sunrise Egg Farms is a sprawling place! All the buildings
were surrounded by cornfields; the corn was barely five feet tall,
and already quite dry.
Where the lane turned into the barns, the truck splashed gently through a gully running with an antiseptic solution designed to sterilize tires. No stray, out-of-town germs were welcome in this biosecure area. No provision was made apparently, for the human feet which hopped out of the struck and strolled about the facility. Oh well. On this crisp, jacket-worthy morning with a stiff breeze playing over miles of flat in every direction, was it really an issue?
A
SkyTrak on puffy tires followed us. This was a glorified forklift,
which reached into the trailer to slide adjustable tines under each
skid of supplies and roll them from the trailer to the bottom floor
of a chicken house under construction. Tedious work, this,
requiring a man on the trailer, and the Trucker on the ground in
addition to the driver. The SkyTrak could raise, lower, and twist
every part of itself into every conceivable angle. The Passenger did
wonder whether engineers who designed this creature consulted the
insect world created by God for ideas!
Conversation
between skids revealed that this particular farm is home to
approximately 2.4 million laying hens, with an equally sizable amount
of replacement pullets. It seems Michigan of the progressive
governor, recently passed a law requiring hens to now be uncaged, for
a more humane life. The farms are under deadline to rip out all
their cages and instead house the birds on open floors. Which is a
great expense, and much more risk, to the birds, to egg collecting,
and to the farmers’ bottom line. The government, however, did not
supply any funds to offset the farmers’ expenses to comply with the
new law. They did, in response to the farmers’ lobby, include a
provision that Michigan egg buyers may not purchase cheaper eggs out
of state from farms whose prices do not reflect excessive
regulations. But will out of state buyers purchase the higher priced
Michigan eggs? Or will this begin the slow death of Michigan egg
farms and cause greater unemployment? This, they are waiting to see.
The
ventilation equipment transported by the Trucker has only been
expected for the last whole month, delayed by lack of workers to
produce the parts needed for the ventilation system. Which delayed
all other aspects of the job, while the deadline for compliance with
the new laws grows ever closer.
The
house under construction will have three stories of birds, in long,
high cages similar to dog runs. Within will be numerous smaller
cages set at a higher level where the birds will hopefully learn fly
into, lay their eggs, and roost at night. Lighting will be
meticulously adjusted to control the birds’ habits.
All
for now. Time to swipe the Trucker’s phone for a hotspot to send
this epistle, as the laptop doesn’t recognize the Passenger’s
phone hotspot.
_______
Later in the day, a stop was made for their meal. At 76th Street Cafe, near Grand Rapids, Michigan. Good food, way too plentiful. A pleasant and very attentive waitress. The special of the day? Pig Pile, for $10.49 each. Ah, nope. Not when the Passenger's imagination eats before she does. Probably quite a delectable dish, but not under that description!
