Quotes About Cattle

Jerseys were for people who were afraid to milk Holsteins and too ashamed to milk goats.

Again you play with my people, resist sending them. Listen: tomorrow at this time a hard hailstorm falls, as has never been in Egypt, not from the day of its founding. Send out your word: the cattle, all that belongs to you in the field, all man and beast not in houses—if not brought into your house they will die as the hail falls.

Is that right A cattle baron It sounds strange.

Sometimes you can cattle rope your heart and sometimes you can't, is all.

Like his adversaries back in Wichita and Dodge, many hailed from Texas. But these weren't drovers intent on a little wild fun. They dealt in cattle, too, but instead of herding them, they stole them. For that they acquired a generic nickname that eventually evolved into a complimentary description, but one that in 1880 was intended as a slur, a means of identifying men so low and violent that no evil act was considered beneath them: Cowboys.

Can you milk 'em? If you can't milk 'em, they're pets!

The filing of citizenry out from coffee shops always reminds Iris of cattle coming out of a barn in the morning, in their slow, blinking line. Not the most flattering of images, but for her, it's calming, suggesting a kind of optimism about at least one thing in the world. A new day. A new start.

Early in the morning a heavy dew lay on the ground, and the horses and cattle left tracks in the spangled grass, and hollow imprints where they had slept. The world was exquisite, delicate as a mother-of-pearl shell.

Gauchos are like cowboys in the United States.

In the 1880s, a weedy Easterner named Owen Wister had something like a nervous breakdown. Wyoming, with its wide-open spaces and healthy pursuits, was prescribed as a cure. Wister was immediately smitten by the taciturn cowboys and the rules imposed upon them by the cattle barons.

Montana's ranchers raise the best cattle in the world. If Taco Bell needs to beef up, they can give their customers the highest quality meat around by using Montana beef, and in the process, supporting agriculture jobs in Montana.

Tanka Black-and-white Holsteins Crowd downfield at feeding time, Mingling their blotches. It is like ice breaking up In a dark, swollen river.

In the wild, cattle roamed as they pleased in herds with a complex social structure. The castrated and domesticated ox wasted away his life under the lash and in a narrow pen, labouring alone or in pairs in a way that suited neither its body nor its social and emotional needs. When an ox could no longer pull the plough, it was slaughtered.

Get grass-fed animal foods. Cattle are grass-eating animals by nature.

grass-fed cattle produce milk and dairy products, such as butter and cheese, that can be a rich source of fat-soluble vitamins (E, A, K2, and beta-carotene) and minerals (such as selenium).(10)

No wonder the grass grows up between the flags, and cattle are the only hedge- cutters.

I'm standing in a slaughterhouse where the cattle are begging to become hamburgers. I have a right to be jumpy.

For endless minutes he crawled after them wondering why the hell he was working his ass off to save humanity. Humanity? Weren't most people like those two fools ahead? Brainless cattle. That's whose future he was trying to save? Evolution, or just a coincidence, might have brought forth a couple of people who might be worth the effort but most were just a waste of space.

It's a funny life," Augustus said. "All these cattle and nine-tenths of the horses is stolen, and yet we was once respected lawmen. If we get to Montana we'll have to go into politics. You'll wind up governor if the dern place ever gets to be a state. And you'll spend all your time passing laws against cattle thieves.

Why in the hell would anybody think they wanted to take cattle to Montana? Dixon, the scout, said. He had an insolent look. We thought it would be a good place to sit back and watch 'em shit, Augustus said. Insolence was apt to bring out the comic in him.

Cattle did not have to be led to water. They came eagerly to the trough and drank while Almanzo pumped, then they hurried back to the warm barns, and each went to its own place. Each cow turned into her own stall and put her head between her own stanchions. They never made a mistake. Whether this was because they had more sense than horses, or because they had so little sense that they did everything by habit, Father did not know.

Cattle... it called us cattle...We're hamburger, you mean.

pasturing among a herd of cattle and cast about for some means of getting him into his clutches; so he sent him word that he was sacrificing a sheep, and asked if he would do him the honour of dining with him. The Bull accepted the invitation, but, on arriving at the Lion's den, he saw a great array of

Milkfed Mary, Queen of the Dairy