e, but rarely less. I believe that
38 to 44 cows in full flow of milk will make the best balance in my
factory; and a well-balanced factory is what I am after.

I am told that animals are not machines, and that they cannot be run as
such. My animals are; and I run them as I would a shop. There is no
sentiment in my management. If a cow or a hog or a hen doesn't work in a
satisfactory way, it ceases to occupy space in my shop, just as would
an imperfect wheel. The utmost kindness is shown to all animals at Four
Oaks. This rule is the most imperative one on the place, and the one in
which no "extenuating circumstances" are taken into account. There are
two equal reasons for this: the first is a deep-rooted aversion to
cruelty in all forms; and the second is, _it pays_. But kindness to
animals doesn't imply the necessity of keeping useless ones or those
whose usefulness is below one's standard. If a man will use the
intelligence and attention to detail in the management of stock that is
necessary to the successful running of a complicated machine, he will
find that his stock doesn't differ greatly from his machine. The trouble
with most farmers is that they think the living machine can be neglected
with impunity, because it will not immediately destroy itself or others,
and because it is capable of a certain amount of self-maintenance; while
the dead machine has no power of self-support, and must receive careful
and punctual attention to prevent injury to itself and to other
property. If a dairyman will feed his cows as a thresher feeds the
cylinder of his threshing-machine, he will find that the milk will flow
from the one about as steadily as the grain falls from the other.

Intensive factory farming means the use of the best machines pushed to
the limit of their capacity through the period of their greatest
usefulness, and then replaced by others. Pushing to the limit of
capacity is in no sense cruelty. It is predicated on the perfect health
of the animal, for without perfect condition, neither machine nor animal
can do its best work. It is simply encouraging to a high degree the
special function for which generations of careful breeding have fitted
the animal.

That there is gratification in giving milk, no well-bred cow or mother
will deny. It is a joyous function to eat large quantities of pleasant
food and turn it into milk. Heredity impels the cow to do this, and it
would take generations of wild life to wean her