By now you may have learned a thing or two about me and what I like. Mostly, what I like revolves around eatin. I reckon I ain’t the only horse whose daily musins tend to dwell on matters of digestion.
I reckon if I asked y’all what I like to eat, you’d likely say, first of all, well, Whiskey loves his alfalfa hay. And that right there is true. And y’all know how very, very little of it I get to eat at all, on account of our bucket gal believes it to be too “rich” for my stomach, on account of sometimes – and pardon the indelicacy of this, and I hope y’all ain’t tryin to eat your own people-food right now; if ya are, you may want to put your people-feed bag away for a spell – it gives me the runs. Which is ridiculous, because how can food that goes into a horse mouth have anything at all to do with what comes out of a horse’s opposite end? The two are entirely different, and I fail to comprehend how people confuse the two. But I’d prefer not to ponder how they do.
I could go on about the sweet-smellin, savory sheer bliss a horse experiences in every mouthful of that succulent, sugary substance known as alfalfa hay. You may also have figured out I like my grass hay, too, and carrots. And also cookies for horses. And beer! (But not Coors beer. I got taste buds, y’all.) And the bucket gal’s crunchy peanut butter granola bars when she’ll share with me! And my bucket! I hope y’all never forget my bucket.
But the very best thing I ever ate actually ain’t alfalfa. In fact, I like it better than alfalfa! So you can imagine just how good it is!! And it’s got kind of a silly name, but a name that makes sense once you stop to think about it.
Every people-month, for right about seven bucket times in a row, me, Coors, and Coors Light get to eat it with our buckets, and the bucket gal tells us all the time how it’s good for our stomachs, unlike the alfalfa which I know to be good for me, but which she thinks ain’t agreeable to my stomach. I’d like to be the judge of my own stomach, thanks kindly.
It’s orange-colored like carrots is, but it’s sugary and fine and it smells like orange blossoms from an orange tree, or orange peels, which, by the way, if you ever want to know what Original Coors likes best, it’s orange peels. Coors Light’s more partial to the grapefruit. And our bucket gal mixes it in with our other bucket feed until all our feed’s coated with it and decadently delicious. If it’s so good for us, I don’t know why we can’t have it every single day, do you?
I talked to some of the other horses on the County Island that we go trail ridin’ with, and some of them get to eat it every single day on account of their people think their stomachs need it on account of the County Island is a sandy place. One mare told me her person saw her rubbin her nose on the sand one time, and had a people freak-out (you can likely imagine it) and ran and got her more of it that same day. So, she told the horses across the fence from her to try eatin some sand to see what’d happen, and their people saw them eatin sand, too, and had a people freak-out, and got them some straight away too! Well, why can’t our, specifically my, stomach need more of it, too? It ain’t fair. Now, I surely ain’t gonna stoop so low as to eat sand to get me some more, because that ain’t right. But still. I don’t judge what other horses choose to do.
I know I call all our pellets and grain and such horse-candy, but this, this IS horse-candy, my amigos. It’s the real deal. And I carefully lick my entire bucket clean of it, and then I lick it some more, and then I turn my bucket upside-down on the fence post, and I slam it back and forth a little, to try to shake loose any last tiny morsels. I’d lick the bucket off my bucket to get it all, if I could.
And do you know what it’s called? It’s called silly yum! Orange silly yum! I know – ain’t that a cool name? And it is so called that. You likely thought I made that up, but it’s what everybody calls it. Silly yum. And yummy it is. We had no silly yum at all back at the ranch. I don’t know how a horse ever lived without it. It feels so sweet on a horse’s tongue, it truly makes a horse feel so happy it’s downright silly. Sometimes it makes me feel like flaggin my tail and gallopin around purely for the fun of it, and shakin my head and squealin with delight.
But I’d be obliged if you’d keep my silly feelins strictly between you and me. I got a ranch horse reputation to maintain around here.