My hus­band and I just had to laugh today when we looked out­side and noticed that the horses hay bale, intact, was lay­ing off to the side.

This last year the per­son we nor­mally get our hay from had his fields flood out twice, which meant he had to plow them under so we didn’t get any alfalfa bales.

Our horses LOVE alfalfa. And I would agree just on smell alone. Need­ing to fill in for loss of favorite hay, we pur­chased some from another source, and although it is prob­a­bly packed with nutri­ents, it is grass hay and not near as palat­able as alfalfa. We soon dis­cov­ered that the horses truly did not like it and would eat it only under duress.  Because this means they scat­ter it to the winds, then do their duty on it so it is ined­i­ble, we learned to wait them out, know­ing that hunger would make them clean up any of the still edi­ble stuff. Lately, because of colder temps and know­ing the horses need all the calo­ries they can use tem­porar­ily, I have been giv­ing them one bale of old alfalfa and one of new grass hay.

This morn­ing that grass hay bale was not only out of the bin, but intact, a sur­prise in itself, and sit­ting neatly off to the side. Not only that, the bin had been righted. We are think­ing the horses will think we will think it is what, a rock or some­thing, and not their hay as it is not ripped apart, and that the righted bin means they ate every last scrap so they can have more alfalfa! Kind of like the lit­tle kid hid­ing his broc­coli, don’t you think? Really, I do have to give them kudos for try­ing. But no, there will be no alfalfa until they clean up that bale. I know, I know, I am mean to a fault. I will go out and put the bale back in the bin, con­grat­u­late them on the attempt, then watch from the house as they stand there look­ing at me for­lornly before trudg­ing over to eat “meat­loaf” instead of “steak”.  Life as a horse, espe­cially here, is noth­ing if not hard.

Snicker.