Frozen bales are the WORST!
Being that I am the younger generation, as is the custom on family farms, I am the runner. The go-fer. The gate opener. This was the role my mother played until my Grandad's passing, and it will be my role for a long time yet. It's a respect thing to some degree, I'm younger, I'm faster and I've got less experience. My Mum didn't get a level up until she was in her 50s, the same will probably go for me as well (Lord willing). I'm okay with waiting my turn, that's the way of it.
When it comes to frozen bales, however? Jumping Jehoshaphat. I am not about that life. Forever I struggle to hack at the ice and dig through the hay to find where the twine is caught. The hay is solid in some areas, the cows are totally impatient. Not shown in this strip is the herd of them surrounding me and attempting to nibble at the bale while I angrily thrash at it. Such is the life of a farmer I suppose. Much rather be hacking at bales than sitting behind a desk.
Are you the younger generation on the family farm? Is this something you relate to? and if you're not a farmer, is there another way you relate to the generational higher archy?