It is early in the morning, and dew drops hang from grass. The sun hasn't managed to penetrate the mist, and the village that surrounds the Veelböken agricultural cooperative is yet to stir.

At 7:00 am, those who work the land here gather for a morning meeting. Tobias Schröder stands with his boss, who is giving instructions about what has to be done. Not too far down the line, the job of organizing everyone will fall to Tobias. He turns the engine of the tractor. One job that has to be done today is to bring in the straw before the bales start to rot.

We drive to the dairy farm in the neighboring village, where the straw will be stored. "I don't have to do the milking," Tobias says with a smile, as he shows me around the cowshed. "That would mean being at the farm at four in the morning."

The space accommodates some 700 black-and-white heifers, which are fully grown females who have yet to bear calves of their own. The young bulls, Tobias explains casually, are taken away from birth. There is no place for sentimentality in such a sprawling agricultural enterprise. The co-op comprises more than 2,000 hectares, and produces its own animal feed.

Modern farm management

Farmer and manager Klaus-Dieter Meissner is worried about low milk prices, which he fears could push regional farmers out of the dairy business. Tobias remains silent on the subject, but he clearly has his own thoughts on the issue. As a prospective manager, he has to consider how to make production both inexpensive and profitable, even in times of falling product prices and crop losses.

He learns about cost analysis, business and statistics at university, and plenty more besides. "The technology and machines here are worth millions," he says, adding that he has to learn how to use it all. "It is proof that your boss trusts you. At least that's how I see it, and it's an honor to be allowed to drive a combine harvester. No everyone can do that, and not everyone gets the chance."

At the moment, Tobias is still a student trainee, but the decision that he will take over once he has graduated has already been made. The cooperative's board made their choice a while ago - which gives everyone some clarity about the future.

The 25-year-old has already done one apprenticeship to become a farmer and has been familiar with the work at the cooperative since he was a child. Both his father and grandfather were farmers here, back when it was one of the former East German LPG's, or agricultural production cooperatives. Even then, he loved riding on tractors.

The collapse of the communist East Bloc was hard for his father, although he was too young to realize just how hard. He says the word "Wende," which is the term used to describe the transition following the fall of the Berlin Wall, means a change of system.

"Out with socialism, in with capitalism," he says dryly. "But it was good that it happened."

What goes into canola oil

En route back to the cooperative in Veelböken, we pass the vast hall where the harvest is stored. "There is enough space here for 5,000 tons of baking wheat," Tobias says.

A huge turbine is drying out the canola that has already been harvested. Tobias picks them up to check the quality of black grains that will be used to generate canola oil. He is pleased and says they smell as they should, but warns against eating too many of them. "They pass through your system quickly," he says with a laugh.

It's early afternoon when we get back to the cooperative, and the day will be a long one for the young farmer. It's hard to maintain a private life during harvest season, when everyone is expected to help out - even on the weekends. His girlfriend and their five-year-old daughter are going out for the day, but he won't be able to join them.

"Every hour we aren't threshing or bringing in the straw, we loose money," Tobias explains, with one eye on the sky.

Everything ready for the harvest

By mid-day, the sky looks threatening and there are some spots of rain. The weather here near the Baltic coast in north-western Mecklenburg is prone to rapid change. Tobias and his boss discuss whether or not to continue bringing in the canola and ultimately decide to send the combine harvesters out to get the job done.

We drive the car out to the canola field. Tobias has a little case with measuring equipment with him, so he can determine the moisture in the canola to be harvested. That's another thing he learns about during his studies at the University of Neu-Brandenburg. He says research methods from agricultural science can be incredibly helpful in his line of work.

His sample has less than eight percent moisture, which makes it perfect for threshing, and means the time is right to get harvesting. "Let's go," Tobias jokes. He will be driving one of the combine harvesters.

Trust yourself - and rely on the weather

It is a colossal machine. The world looks manageable from the driver's cabin, which is almost two meters above the ground. The giant vehicle takes up almost the entire width of the road, leaving no space for cars or mopeds. When we reach the canola field, Tobias checks the blades. Every stick or stone can bring the mighty piece of equipment to a standstill, and that can be expensive. He talks to the driver of the second combine harvester, which is being given a trial run, and off they go.

The cooperative's largest field is 130 hectares, and it takes almost an hour to get around it. Every now and then, the giant machine spits the black canola seeds into a truck. After two hours on the job, Tobias drives to the edge of the field, where his colleagues and his boss are taking a break. It is now drizzling lightly and the blades are coated with damp foliage. He turns off the engine, and a beautiful silence fills the air.

"That's it for today," he says glancing up at the blue-gray sky. When I ask if he believes this year's harvest will be a good one, he says he was raised without a belief. "You just have to believe in yourself and what you can do," he says. "That's why I became a farmer. The weather decides the rest."