THE MARE WHO GOT INTO THE WHISKEY BARREL

Many years ago I had a four year old, first time foaling mare. She foaled with one mighty small udder for such a big, well fed mare. Sure enough, the filly was getting some much needed colostrum, but no where near enough milk to survive. By six hours old, she had resorted to sucking the few drops of milk from her dam, then burying her tiny muzzle in the water tank and gulping down water. Desperate, I phoned the old time vet who was the only one in the area. He didn’t know of any shots at that time to give a mare to increase her milk supply. But he did have the oddest thing for me to try. He claimed it would work within hours.

He told me to phone the nearest distillery that made Whiskey. You know the stuff that gives you such a good feeling the night before and such a horrid feeling the morning after. Seems when they make this whiskey in the wooden barrels, after draining off the stuff for us to guzzle down, there is a sludge left. Seems this can be strained for poor people to still guzzle down or eat with a spoon or whatever. But apparently the distilleries also dry it into a powder which they sell for such things as Medicinal purposes (just animals I hope), even to grow super sized plants, (I have no idea if these super sized plants lean slightly to the side or sway even if there is no breeze.)

But what I do know, is I ordered a 5 pound bag of this dried whiskey mash which they put on the midnight express bus to my town. When I went to the bus terminal to pick it up, the lady handed me the package with her nose all wrinkled up. Turns out it wasn’t my armpits bothering her but the smell coming from inside the brown paper wrapping. In fact, I carried it home in the back of the truck, not inside the cab.

I mixed a hefty dose of it in the mare’s morning grain. She took to the taste of it like an old drunk who has been deprived for quite a spell. Another feeding in the afternoon, then again at night. The next morning’s feeding and that mare was hooked on the stuff already. She wasn’t leaning sideways or tripping over her own feet, but I swear she had a glazed look in her eyes.

By night time, she was milking like a Holstein cow. The little filly was in seventh heaven. No way could she devour all that available milk. Except for some short term gas pains and loose poop from consuming water, she was fine.

Strange as it may sound, this old time remedy worked. The mare eventually got over her need for her three times a day fix of left over whiskey.

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