After fighting to get my tractor running again — internal combustion engines are less cold-tolerant than sheep, it seems; more on that soon — I got to the urgent task of feeding the flock of ewes and rams, who needed two new round bales this afternoon.  The first bale went smoothly, but I opened the second one to find a big moldy spot.

I texted Bill a photo of the bale, with editorial invective for the maker.  I was expecting righteous indignation in response, but instead he tried to talk me down:  “That wouldn’t bother me much.  I think Keith has spoiled you for feed made by mortals.  That’s probably just a spot where the bale got slightly deformed, allowing an air pocket between the feed and the bale wrap.”

Excusable or not, I still had to cut the moldy bits out, but the task was complicated by the utterly frozen state of the bale.  Normally I’d cut around the mold with a sharp knife and just pull it away.  At 2ºF, I cut and pried with a crowbar, but wasn’t making much progress.  If only there was a more effective tool for cutting into frozen hay…  Then I looked a few feet away in the barn.

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Mission accomplished?