I remember climbing up the ladder in the silo, taking the pick-ax and chopping loose some frozen silage, scooping it down the ladder shaft, removing another door, swinging the pick some more, shoveling some more, climbing down the ladder, kicking enough silage out of the way to let myself out, going down the bunks, spreading it out while the diners shoved my legs with their noses (depositing snot on my jeans), and having one swing his head and catch me in the back of the thigh with a (thankfully, blunted) horn. Good times.
