Deer Grazing Quotes

Fondling,' she saith, 'since I have hemm'd thee here Within the circuit of this ivory pale, I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer; Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale: Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.

The herd of deer accepts it. Mourning a while, they go back to grazing. Perhaps they even think, this time too, it wasn’t me. Not yet.

A herd of deer catches the Monk’s attention. They are running. He senses the fear in them. Soon, the largest cat in this forest takes one of them: it runs, grabs a neck, halts, and mauls; then it kills. A predator wins. Always. The herd of deer accepts it. Mourning a while, they go back to grazing. Perhaps they even think, this time too, it wasn’t me. Not yet.

Speculations about what the world would be like after human control of it ended had been – long ago, briefly – a queasy form of popular entertainment. There had even been online TV shows about it: computer-generated landscape pictures with deer grazing in Times Square, serves-us-

On sunny days, a herd of deer would graze on the grass below him, and the birds would sing above him. He hummed along with their song. Giovanni was at peace.

Old-time ranchers planted cheatgrass because it would green up fast in the spring and provide early forage for grazing cattle,” Oyster says, nodding his head at the world outside. This first patch of cheatgrass was in southern British Columbia, Canada, in 1889. But fire spreads it. Every year, it dries to gunpowder, and now land that used to burn every ten years, it burns every year. And the cheatgrass recovers fast. Cheatgrass loves fire. But the native plants, the sagebrush and desert phlox, they don’t. And every year it burns, there’s more cheatgrass and less anything else. And the deer and antelope that depended on those other plants are gone now. So are the rabbits. So are the hawks and owls that ate the rabbits. The mice starve, so the snakes that ate the mice starve. Today, cheatgrass dominates the inland deserts from Canada to Nevada, covering an area over twice the size of the state of Nebraska and spreading by thousands of acres per year. The big irony is, even cattle hate cheatgrass, Oyster says. So the cows, they eat the rare native bunch grasses. What’s left of them... “When you think about it from a native plant perspective,” Oyster says, “Johnny Appleseed was a fucking biological terrorist.” Johnny Appleseed, he says, might as well be handing out smallpox.

Spring is such a hopeful time on the island, and despite the pall that continues to hover over our nation, I find it impossible to resist. The air is still chilly as a well-digger's ear first thing in the morning, but as the hours pass it hints at the warmth to come in later months. As the days become longer, the rains change. They are less punishing and more promising, bringing out the native grasses and glimpses of green on the trees. Then there are the little families of deer, grazing as if the entire island is a spring buffet, and wild rabbits are hopping everywhere.

There had even been online TV shows about it: computer-generated landscape pictures with deer grazing in Times Square, serves-us-right finger-wagging, earnest experts lecturing about all the wrong turns taken by the human race. There was only so much of that people could stand, judging from the ratings, which spiked and then plummeted as viewers voted with their thumbs, switching from imminent wipeout to real-time contests about hotdog-swallowing if they liked nostalgia, or to sassy-best-girlfriends comedies if they liked stuffed animals, or to Mixed Martial Arts Felony Fights if they liked bitten-off ears, or to Nitee-Nite live-streamed suicides or HottTotts kiddy porn or Hedsoff real-time executions if they were truly jaded. All of it so much more palatable than the truth.

And Mowgli had not the faintest idea of the difference that caste makes between man and man. When the potter’s donkey slipped in the clay pit, Mowgli hauled it out by the tail, and helped to stack the pots for their journey to the market at Khanhiwara. That was very shocking, too, for the potter is a low-caste man, and his donkey is worse. When the priest scolded him, Mowgli threatened to put him on the donkey too, and the priest told Messua’s husband that Mowgli had better be set to work as soon as possible; and the village head-man told Mowgli that he would have to go out with the buffaloes next day, and herd them while they grazed. No one was more pleased than Mowgli; and that night, because he had been appointed a servant of the village, as it were, he went off to a circle that met every evening on a masonry platform under a great fig-tree. It was the village club, and the head-man and the watchman and the barber, who knew all the gossip of the village, and old Buldeo, the village hunter, who had a Tower musket, met and smoked. The monkeys sat and talked in the upper branches, and there was a hole under the platform where a cobra lived, and he had his little platter of milk every night because he was sacred; and the old men sat around the tree and talked, and pulled at the big huqas (the water-pipes) till far into the night. They told wonderful tales of gods and men and ghosts; and Buldeo told even more wonderful ones of the ways of beasts in the jungle, till the eyes of the children sitting outside the circle bulged out of their heads. Most of the tales were about animals, for the jungle was always at their door. The deer and the wild pig grubbed up their crops, and now and again the tiger carried off a man at twilight, within sight of the village gates.

Suddenly, he heard a twig snap, loud and sharp—ominous—as though something heavy had stepped on it. Frightened, he knew he had to get back to the herd. He would trot home another way so no one would notice him returning by himself. He got up and made his way through the trees. He found a deer trail and followed it, trying to be quiet by placing each hoof softly in front of the other. After a while he emerged from the forest on a high ridge overlooking Dawn Meadow. Spread below him was Sun Herd, grazing, their wings blinking open and closed. The sun was setting, casting orange light across their vibrant feathers, and as usual, the pegasi had gathered into their family groups for the evening.

Have you ever watched a deer walking out from cover? They step, stop, and stay, motionless, nose to the air, looking and smelling. A nervous twitch might run down their flanks. And then, reassured that all is safe, they ankle their way out of the brush to graze.

Dzogchen Tantra when it suggests: ‘As a bee seeks nectar from all kinds of flowers, seek teachings everywhere. Like a deer that finds a quiet place to graze, seek seclusion to digest all that you have gathered. Like a mad one beyond all limits, go where you please and live like a lion, completely free of all fear.

We humans are wired to see the bad more clearly than the good. It’s an evolutionary advantage, after all. Imagine you are an ancient cave dweller surveying the landscape: Would you rather be better at noticing what’s fine and normal—deer grazing, tree branches swaying, the sun shining—or at spotting the hungry lion in the shadows?

Calligenes the farmer, having sowed his plot of land, went to the home of Aristophanes the astrologer, begged to know if his harvest would be propitious and his crop of wheat really abundant. Aristophanes laid out his counters on a board, curled his fingers and said to Calligenes: 'If your piece of land recieves it's fill of rain without producing thickets of blooming brushwood, and no ice breaks the furrows, no hail grazes on the tender tips of sprouting wheat, or herd of hungry deer, and no other offense from the air or the earth comes your way, I prophesy that you'll have a great harvest and that you'll reap your wheat abundantly. Only watch out for locusts!

The best choice in domestic meat is lamb. Sheep generally graze on open ranges, out in the sun and fresh air, and they are usually not contaminated with drugs. Lamb is the richest source of carnitine, which is required to deliver fat into cells for metabolism. Lamb has always been the meat of choice in the Middle East, Mediterranean, and Himalayan regions, where asteriosclerosis and heart disease have never been major problems. Even better than lamb is wild game, such as deer, elk, pheasant, and quail, although these products are hard to find these days.

Winter passed, and the world around began to wake. The birds returned to the kingdom and set about readying their nests, deer could be seen once more grazing where the fields met the woods, and buds burst forth upon the branches of the kingdom's trees.

So we went for a stroll in Alumni Park, a grassy lawn in front of Pepperdine that overlooks the coast. Deer trickle down from the hills and rocky bluffs to graze there. The coral trees rise like watchtowers over a pond where fresh water reeds grow, providing a small refuge for ducks and wild birds. At night, a full moon leaves a trail on the ocean’s black waters, and the constant coastal breeze disturbs the tree limbs, sending their leaves into a continuous stirring.

The town was as barren as an empty movie set, the only movement from deer that wandered the boulevards. His eyes skimmed silent streets as he searched for the bed and breakfast. A half-grown fawn, grazing near the side of the road, lifted its head and hurried off to its mother.

Sometimes, if I were very quiet, I could look at the deer grazing along the banks of the stream. They had gentle large brown eyes. I was often tempted to approach them, but they were timid things, fleeing upon the first movement. Watching them from a distance, I didn't feel so alone. No, I felt a sense of harmony with them as I did with the birds of the forest, and a sense that someone was watching over all of us.

Fondling,” she saith, “since I have hemmed thee here Within the circuit of this ivory pale, I’ll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer. Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale; Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.

In the patch of forest across the road, there were two deer grazing, a stag and a doe. Jack watched them in awe, took in their grace and vulnerability as though they were good omens sent personally to him. They were two reasons to live, to reasons to believe he could defy the odds history had stacked against him.