I rode past a wall of these glistening black bales, five meters high and 300 meters long, this morning — a bulwark against the lean times coming.
There are smaller caches like this one all over the place. They ain’t pretty but remind you that this beautiful landscape is a factory.
The smell when they’re torn open makes your eyes water and your guts heave but the cows gorge themselves on the fermented gunk inside and perhaps it’s better that they eat maize, malted barley and haylage grown on the farm than soya beans from the Amazon.

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