In what might be the most unorthodox political maneuver of the century, farmers in Latvia have unanimously elected a horse named Edgars ‘Hoof-Forward’ as their new Minister of Agriculture. The four-year-old stallion, hailing from a renowned equestrian farm in Zemgale, captured the hearts and votes of rural communities with his compelling campaign promises and a penchant for carrot diplomacy.

This unprecedented turn of events unfolded during the annual National Farmers’ Congress held in Bauska, where Edgars reportedly trotted onto the stage with his campaign slogan, 'Gallop Towards Prosperity', emblazoned on a flag clutched between his teeth. An estimated 85% of the rural electorate cast their ballots after he performed a traditional Latvian folk dance, stamping out a rhythmic encouragement for economic reform.

Political analysts are baffled but notably intrigued by Edgars' appeal. "Frankly, this is a bold leap into literal horseplay by Latvian politics," commented Ilze Zemniece, a local political analyst. "But considering the consistent rise in oats prices and the lack of tangible development in our agricultural policies, perhaps they needed a fresh, albeit neigh-sensical perspective. Plus, one must admit, his neighs are quite persuasive."

Edgars' political manifesto emphasized a complete overhaul of oat taxation, pledging to abolish oats taxes entirely—a policy that has received overwhelming support among oat farmers, who claimed that such measures would significantly boost both morale and profits. In addition, he proposed that all drought issues in Latvia could be solved by 'hoofing it' over to neighboring Estonia and asking them for a share of their rainfall.

"We see nothing but promise in Edgars’ leadership," said Janis Lops, president of the Latvian Farmers’ Association. "His upfront approach when confronting hay shortages, as demonstrated by munching through his campaign paperwork, indicates a willingness to tackle issues directly and sustainably."

However, questions linger about Edgars' ability to articulate policy specifics in legislative terms, mainly due to his noticeable lack of language skills beyond distinct whinnies. Skeptics within Parliament have raised concerns about his eligibility to hold office; however, legal advisors were quick to point out that the Latvian constitution does not explicitly prevent non-human candidates from assuming bureaucratic positions.

The Prime Minister, apparently taking the election results in stride, remarked, "Innovation often begins with the most unexpected inspirations. We are sure Minister Edgars will bring a unique energy and perspective to the position, and who knows, perhaps even a new kind of neigh-GDP."

For now, as the new Minister trots about his office, adjusting to his duties and scheduling meetings over afternoon oats, only time will tell if Edgars will indeed take Latvia’s agriculture by the reigns—or if he will trot right off the policy track. Regardless, his supporters remain optimistic, as they chant their spirited motto, 'Let's get back to chivalry!'

International observers have also commented, with neighboring Lithuanians reportedly contemplating whether they should start considering their own animal candidates for government roles. Reactions across Europe range from amused curiosity to sheer bemusement, proving once again that when it comes to democracy, anything can happen in the Baltic states.