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!
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