Pasture Management Quotes

The managed grazing of pastured animals is as good for land as factory farming is bad for it.

Love, if I managed to write it down, would approach a critical point: there where lies the risk of exhuming buried cries, those of yesterday and as well as those of a hundred years ago. But my sole ambition in writing is constantly to travel to fresh pastures and replenish my water skins with an inexhaustible silence.

Animals" Have you forgotten what we were like then when we were still first rate when the day came fat with an apple in its mouth it's no use worrying about Time but we did have a few tricks up our sleeves and turned a few sharp corners the whole pasture looked like our meal we didn't need speedometers we could manage cocktails out of ice and water I wouldn't want to be faster or greener than now if you were with me O you were the best of my days.

I came home because I was on the run, again, and stayed because of a sense of duty. He comes here every night and every weekend because he loves it here, loves the woods, pasture, pond, and all the hard work it takes to manage it. Here in this wide-open space, from the seat of a tractor or leaning on a pasture gate, things make sense. He is serenaded by katydids and crickets, swarmed by green flies, wasps, hornets, and worse, but it is a kind of paradise for him, I believe. He has bounced over every inch of it on that hateful tractor, the closest he could come to crossing it on muleback. So,

Those who nod sagely and quote the tragedy of the commons in relation to environmental problems from pollution of the atmosphere to poaching of national parks tend to forget that Garrett Hardin revised his conclusions many times over thirty years. He recognized, most importantly, that anarchy did not prevail on the common pastures of midieval England in the way he had described [in his 1968 essay in 'Science']. The commoners--usually a limited number of people with defined rights in law--organized themselves to ensure it did not. The pastures were protected from ruin by the tradition of 'stinting,' which limited each herdsman to a fixed number of animals. 'A managed commons, though it may have other defects, is not automatically subject to the tragic fate of the unmanaged commons,' wrote Hardin, though he was still clearly unhappy with commoning arrangements. As with all forms of socialism, of which he regarded commoning as an early kind, Hardin said the flaw in the system lay in the quality of the management. The problem was alays how to prevent the managers from furthering their own interests. Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Who guards the guardians? Hardin observed, crucially, that a successful managed common depended on limiting the numbers of commoners, limiting access, and having penalties that deterred. [...] None of Hardin's requirements for a successfully managed common is fulfilled by high-seas fishery regimes

Allan Savory’s belief that drought and floods are man-made and therefore not inevitable opens the way for a different response. With this principle in mind, Grasslands, LLC, seeks to apply Holistic Management to thousands of acres of land, creating islands of ecological resilience with regard to the water cycle. So that perhaps when, say, an inordinately heavy rain comes in the spring, the pasture can absorb the water and there’s little runoff.

using Holistic Management (with cattle, sheep, goats, horses) or other restorative models (agroforestry, pasture cropping, natural sequence farming), and those islands of resilience expand and connect and, in time, are no longer islands but rather large intact areas of revived ecology. Floods happen less frequently and droughts aren’t as severe.

A number of clinical trials have shown benefits (though sometimes modest) of dietary supplementation with omega-3 fatty acids in several inflammatory and autoimmune diseases, including rheumatoid arthritis, Crohn’s disease, ulcerative colitis, psoriasis, lupus erythematosus, multiple sclerosis, and migraine headaches. In fact, in patients with rheumatoid arthritis, supplementation with fish oil led to substantial improvements in joint swelling, pain, and morning stiffness and enabled them to reduce their use of nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs. Supplementation is beneficial because it helps correct the balance of omega-6 to omega-3 fatty acid intake. The Paleo Approach goes one very important step further because it focuses not only on increasing omega-3 fatty acids (from whole-food sources such as fish, shellfish, and pasture-raised meats) but also on decreasing omega-6 fatty acids (by avoiding processed vegetable oils, grains, legumes, nuts, and seeds). Achieving the proper ratio of omega-6 to omega-3 fatty acids will contribute substantially to the management of autoimmune disease and to overall health.

found a registered two-thousand-pound prize Seminole bull with a note that said, “Here’s that calf I owe you.” Faron took the bull out to pasture, where he and his partner Jimmy C. Newman, a star of the Grand Ole Opry, used it for breeding for years. Tootsie’s was the launching pad for all kinds of grand connections. One night I spotted Charlie Dick. He was Patsy Cline’s husband and manager. I had with me a copy of “Night Life” that I’d cut with Paul Buskirk in

He’d never taken the sheep to this particular pasture before, and it had been quite the feat, getting his less than trained band of mutts to herd them such a distance. But he’d needed to get as far away from the castle as possible—or rather, get as far away from Miss Lucetta Plum as possible—because quite honestly, he’d needed to seek out a place of peace and quiet in order to finally sort out his thoughts. Lifting his face to the late October sun, he realized that the only thing he’d managed to sort out during the numerous hours he’d been avoiding the castle was the fact that he’d made a complete idiot of himself with Lucetta. He certainly hadn’t intended to offer her a marriage proposal in such an impulsive manner. It had just happened. But then, when she’d very kindly turned down his offer, in a tone of voice one usually reserved for the very ill, he’d begun to get the most unpleasant feeling that he might have spent three very long years pining after a woman who didn’t actually exist. The woman he’d thought he was in love with was a most delicate sort, fragile, needy, a bit melancholy upon occasion, and too beautiful for words, of course. While Lucetta’s beauty was even more impressive close up, that was seemingly the only thing he’d gotten right about the lady. She was not delicate in the least, and didn’t appear to possess a melancholy demeanor. The case couldn’t even be made that she was fragile, considering she’d managed to outrun a goat bent on bodily harm, without dissolving into a bout of hysterics. In all honesty, the best word to describe Miss Lucetta Plum was . . . practical. It was a disappointing word—practical—not romantic at all, and certainly not a word he’d ever thought he’d be using in regard to Lucetta. The

• In some cases, we simply haven’t figured out how to effectively ask for complaints without sounding almost masochistic: “Please, tell us how bad we are.” • When customers do take the time to complain, but jaded or indifferent frontline employees discount the complaint by saying “we hear a lot of that” or “that tends to happen quite a bit here toward the end of the quarter,” customers feel their complaints aren’t taken seriously and are hesitant to speak up again. If it happens enough, they’ll simply pull up stakes for greener pastures.

carried the Makarov outside to watch the fireworks. Thirty yards beyond the spot where Brendan Magill lay dead was a rock wall running on a north-south axis. Gabriel took cover behind it after a 7.62x39mm round shredded the air a few inches from his right ear. Keller hit the ground next to him as rounds exploded against the stones of the wall, sending sparks and fragments flying. The source of the fire was silenced, so Gabriel had only a vague idea of the direction from which it was coming. He poked his head above the wall to search for a muzzle flash, but another burst of rounds drove him downward. Keller was now crawling northward along the base of the wall. Gabriel followed after him, but stopped when Keller suddenly opened up with the dead man’s AK-47. A distant scream indicated that Keller’s rounds had found their mark, but in an instant they were taking fire from several directions. Gabriel flattened himself on the ground at Keller’s side, the Glock in one hand, the dead man’s phone in the other. After a few seconds he realized it was pulsing with an incoming text. The text was apparently from Eamon Quinn. It read KILL THE GIRL . . . 79 CROSSMAGLEN, SOUTH ARMAGH A MID THE HEAP OF BROKEN and dismembered farm implements in Jimmy Fagan’s shed, Katerina had found a scythe, rusted and caked in mud, a museum piece, perhaps the last scythe in the whole of Ireland, north or south. She held it tightly in her hands and listened to the sound of men pounding up the track at a sprint. Two men, she thought, perhaps three. She positioned herself against the shed’s sliding door. Madeline was at the opposite end of the space, hooded, hands bound, her back to the bales of hay. She was the first and only thing the men would see upon entry. The latch gave way, the door slid open, a gun intruded. Katerina recognized its silhouette: an AK-47 with a suppressor attached to the barrel. She knew it well. It was the first weapon she had ever fired at the camp. The great AK-47! Liberator of the oppressed! The gun was pointed upward at a forty-five-degree angle. Katerina had no choice but to wait until the barrel sank toward Madeline. Then she raised the scythe and swung it with every ounce of strength she had left in her body. Two hundred yards away, crouched behind a stone wall at the western edge of Jimmy Fagan’s property, Gabriel showed the text message to Christopher Keller. Keller immediately poked his head above the wall and saw muzzle flashes in the doorway of the shed. Four flashes, four shots, more than enough to obliterate two lives. A burst of AK-47 fire drove him downward again. Eyes wild, he grabbed Gabriel savagely by the front of his coat and shouted, “Stay here!” Keller hauled himself over the wall and vanished from sight. Gabriel lay there for a few seconds as the rounds rained down on his position. Then suddenly he was on his feet and running across the darkened pasture. Running toward a car in a snowy square in Vienna. Running toward death. The blow that Katerina delivered to the neck of the man holding the AK-47 resulted in a partial decapitation. Even so, he had managed to squeeze off a shot before she wrenched the gun from his grasp—a shot that struck the hay bales a few inches from Madeline’s head. Katerina shoved the dying man aside and quickly fired two shots into the chest of the second man. The fourth shot she fired into the partially decapitated creature twitching at her feet. In the lexicon of the SVR, it was a control shot. It was also a shot of

We walked in silence until we came upon a rolling poppy pasture. The luscious pinks, reds, oranges and yellows drew my breath away as we wandered aimlessly down a country path. I was in awe. Suddenly, Andy pulled me to him and kissed me, prying my mouth open to receive his succulent tongue. Although momentarily astonished, I surrendered to his advances. Though Albert’s arrival had caused a shift in our intimacy, Andy had never left me out of his periphery, even when Zac had entered the picture. My ex-Valet still considered himself responsible for my wellbeing.               Though there were occasions when pangs of jealousy rose in me upon witnessing Andy and Albert, I managed to keep the green eyed monster at bay, acting nonchalantly when I felt cheated by this game of love. I behaved as if immune to this unsavoury emotion, maintaining decorum even when my heart was breaking. I never spoke of this emotional turmoil to Zac and definitely not to Andy, whom I continued to adore from a distance.

In the course of a day, you can run around until your feet turn black and blue. We didn’t have any shoes. You go to bed, and your aunt wraps your feet in the hem of her nightgown to warm them. She’d swaddle me. You can lie there somewhere near her stomach…It’s like being in the womb…And that’s why I don’t remember anything evil. I’ve forgotten it all…It’s hidden away in some distant place. In the morning, I would be woken up by my aunt’s voice: “I made potato pancakes. Have some.” “Auntie, I want to sleep more.” “Eat some and then you can go back to sleep.” She understood that food, bliny, were like medicine to me. Pancakes and love. My uncle Vitalik was a shepherd, he carried a whip over his shoulder and had a long birch-bark pipe. He went around in his military jacket and breeches. He’d bring us “feed” from the pasture—there’d be some cheese and a piece of salo—whatever the women gave him while the animals grazed. Holy poverty! It didn’t mean anything to them, they weren’t upset or insulted by it. All of this is so important to me…so precious. One of my friends complains, “I can’t afford a new car…” another, “I dreamt of it my whole life, but I never did manage to buy myself a mink coat…” When people say those kinds of things to me, it’s like they’re speaking from behind glass…The only thing I regret is not being able to wear short skirts anymore…[We laugh.]

So many young artists get the impression that bigger is always better when it comes to record companies, booking agencies, and managers. This is true only to the degree that they believe in you, only when you have at least one important person that goes to bat for you every day. One of the problems with any music business entity is that there is always an internal game of musical chairs going on. There is a very good possibility that the person or persons that believe in you will be fired or move on to greener pastures, leaving you to the mercy of those who are not so impressed with you. I’ve had that happen to me a couple of times. It can really take the wind out of your sails for a while. But you just have to batten down the hatches and deal with it. More than likely if the new regime doesn’t believe in you, it’ll be willing to suspend any contracts and let you go anyway. If you’re in it for the long run, just pick up the pieces and move along.