I can remember sitting on my grandfather's lap, riding on his John Deere two-cylinder (it was called a Johnny Popper.) Pre-school? I went to pre-farming. I was probably 3 years old the first time I rode a tractor.
By the time I was 8, I was driving that popper while two of my grandfather's farm hands tossed hay bales onto a flatbed trailer. We drove back to the barn, and I scampered up to the second floor and waited as those guys tossed those hay bales up through a huge opening. I had to stack the hay bales, and had to run my ass off to keep up. Then, we'd do it all over again until the barn was full. I was exhausted every day, but my grandfather allowed me to drink my first beer with those guys when we were finished. It sounds awful, but it was an amazing experience.
I'm no longer out in the field. For me now, the feeling of working on something with my hands is cathartic. Some of my best days for relaxing involve doing simple yardwork around our house.
The farm life works for some people, but not for others. What is great is that no one need debate whether that choice is right -- it only matters to yourself. Good for this guy, I think he made a great choice for himself.