A Day In the Life - Going to Work on an Egg Farm

Age-old wisdom advises against putting all of your eggs in one basket. But it’s all in a day’s work for Jonathon Hofer

By Carol Harrington

It’s not quite 10:30 a.m. at the Little Bow Colony, yet the scorching southern Alberta sun has already pushed the mercury past 25C. There’s some reprieve inside the cool, darkened egg grading station, where Jonathon Hofer and three helpers are busy washing, sorting and packing hundreds of eggs - dozens of them; no, make that several hundred.

To keep things interesting, the workers sometimes swap jobs. At this moment, Hofer is bent over stacks of 30 eggs. He places an automatic suction machine over the eggs, which lifts and gently drops them onto a table. The eggs move through a mechanical chute and pass through a long fluorescent light in single file.

Perched on a stool, Hofer’s 18-year-old daughter, Catherine, examines the eggs as they go through the light, plucking the “rejects” and tossing them into a nearby pail. She has a good eye. Almost all the incandescent eggs passing through the bright light look good to me. She yanks one off the conveyor belt, cracks it open and shows me a small blood spot attached to the yoke. Reject.

Each egg that makes it past Catherine moves along a conveyor belt to be washed with fine rotating brushes and dried by small fans. These scrubbed eggs are then graded by weight. A rubber arm pushes the heaviest, extra large eggs onto a table. The lighter eggs are nudged out into the large and medium categories. With nimble fingers, Ruthy, 25, and Melissa, 17, gather the eggs, gently placing them into one-dozen cartons, which are stamped with an expiration date and stored in the walk-in refrigerator.

“Eggs are good for 10 weeks, but I date mine for eight,” Hofer, 45, says with pride. “I want my customers to have fresh product.”

Hofer and his 120 fellow Hutterites have an idyllic life on the colony’s farm west of Champion, 130 kilometres southeast of Calgary. They raise pigs, cows, chickens, turkeys and ducks alongside crops of wheat, barley and alfalfa. Much of the garden-grown carrots, spinach, potatoes, peas and cucumbers that aren’t sold at three local farmers’ markets are canned and used during the winter.

For the past 10 years, Hofer has been the colony’s egg and poultry boss. He tends to the farm’s five chicken barns: two that house 2,250 layer hens and three for 2,800 broiler chickens. Each year, the colony produces 32,000 dozen eggs and 12,000 broiler and roaster chickens ranging from 1.7 to 3.8 kilograms.

“Chickens are easy to manage,” Hofer says with a slight German accent, the native tongue of Hutterites. He takes care of his barns and birds well, in part as a point of pride and to ensure the colony’s success. Hofer is also responsible for turkeys, ducks and geese, most of which are consumed by the colony.

Noting that it’s “challenging,” Hofer loves his job. He markets eggs and chickens to grocery stores and restaurants in nearby towns, including Champion, Claresholm and Nanton. He delivers some freshly-plucked chicken as far away as Calgary. His favourite days are when he drives around southern Alberta in a refrigerated truck, delivering product and chatting with customers.

Although he has a schedule (egg production on Tuesdays and Thursdays, deliveries on Wednesdays and Fridays and slaughtering every few weeks), each day is different. On this particular Thursday, after breakfast at 7 a.m. followed by phone calls to customers, Hofer did his chores: checking the chicken feeders and barns’ temperatures and humidity levels, walking the inside and outside of the barns and checking the health of the birds. He logs and documents various information including anything out of the ordinary. After the detailed barn inspection, the colony boss has asked him to drive 100 kilometres to Lethbridge to pick up a new part for the hay swather.

At 11:30, he announces lunchtime. Walking on gravel roads from the egg production building past a row of white and green townhouses, I see a woman in a scarf and a long dark dress, pulling on a rope to sound a bell, announcing the meal.

Inside the spacious kitchen, a few women are wiping counters and stacking sandwiches on plates. Hofer’s older sister, Suzie, escorts me to a table of women. I realize that during meals, men sit on benches on one side, women on the other. Today, most of the children are on a school trip to the Calgary zoo.

The mess hall fills up. A few dozen men and women bow their heads to give thanks; the prayer is spoken in German. Lunch is plain but substantial: ham and marble cheese on hot dog buns, a delicious hearty broccoli and potato soup and, for dessert, green and red grapes.

After the brisk 15-minute lunch, Hofer shows me the chicken barns. Displayed in barn windows are large Agriculture and Agrifood Canada signs stating: “Do not enter. Bio-security in effect.”

Hofer explains that federal and provincial governments for the past several years have had in place strict rules and procedures for people entering poultry barns, especially visitors. “It’s a biosecurity program to stop visitors from bringing diseases into the barns,” he says. “Avian flu is the biggest concern. We scrub our hands and arms with water and soap, and I put on a new set of disposable boots, coveralls and a dust mask. Cleanliness is key to biosecurity.”

Inside, several hundred 35-day-old broiler chickens are wandering around under 30 per cent lighting. Some are pecking at feeding troughs filled with crushed wheat, vitamins, canola oil and alfalfa. Hofer walks through the air-conditioned barn slowly to avoid exciting the birds. Chickens, he says, don’t sweat, nor do they fly. But when they get riled, they run around and shed fluffy down.

The chicken and hen barns are fully computerized, including the temperature, ventilation, lights, feeders and water spouts. An automatic conveyor belt with feed rolls by the chickens five times a day, three minutes at a time.

Hens, Hofer says, don’t like much light. He explains that hens have a natural instinct to cluster together in a comfortable group size, which creates a calm, less aggressive environment. That’s why you’ll typically find about half a dozen hens sharing a living space.

Canadian government regulations stipulate that poultry and egg farmers keep several log books as part of on-farm safety programs that, among other things, track visitors like me. Little Bow’s commitment to such programs makes it a leader in the industry. And federal and provincial officials and auditors regularly visit to check that operations are up to par.

To earn an AAA ranking for its grading facility, the colony must receive 10 perfect visits from federal inspectors, who usually come around a few times a year for thorough inspections. In the past three years, Hofer has received nine consecutive infraction-free visits. He says he’ll make sure the next inspection is flawless. Then he’ll earn top status. Until then, he won’t be content.

Hello, sunshine

Most eggs consumers buy in stores are high quality, grade A eggs. To be graded A, an egg must have a thick white; a round, centred yolk; a small air cell and a clean shell (the colour doesn’t matter), free of cracks. But you can still eat cracked eggs if you use them promptly and cook them thoroughly. When cracked right open, a fresh grade-A egg has a high profile. As eggs age, whites become runnier, yolks flatter, and the little air pocket becomes deeper. Check the best-before date.