I don’t often get the opportunity to reunite with a pony that I have sold to a new home.  When I knew an opportunity was coming up, then, I worked hard to enter the situation with no expectations.  After all, it had been more than three years since the pony had seen me, and he’d lived in two different states during that time.  Nonetheless, I was extremely curious to see if my work partner of nineteen years, the Norwegian Fjord Horse gelding Torrin, would show any signs of recognizing me.

The opportunity presented itself thanks to the generosity of my friend Paula, Torrin’s owner, and my young pink cowboy princess friend Jackson.  Jackson is a huge fan of the movie Frozen, and in that animated movie there are Fjord Horses.  Jackson had been expressing interest in having her own pony, and I had the idea that Jackson might enjoy riding Torrin as a placeholder until she’s at a point in her life where a pony of her own might be possible.  Torrin and Paula had recently relocated to the same town where Jackson lives making it possible for Jackson to meet Torrin.

I forgot to bring Jackson’s helmet to the event, but all our other safety precautions, including knowing Torrin well, were enough to provide a great experience for all concerned.

While we kept the pony ride a secret from Jackson, nonetheless the rest of the ‘team’ did lots of preparation.  I made arrangements to meet Jackson and her mom when I was in their town, and Paula reminded me to bring Jackson’s saddle, which ended up fitting Torrin well.  Pink even looks good on a grey dun!  Paula went above and beyond the call by watching the movie in advance of our visit so she could provide helpful context, which was good because it had been a few years since I’d watched it.  Jackson’s mom made sure that Jackson had the suitable clothes to wear after school, including cowboy boots with pink highlights.

The late afternoon of the ride was a comfortable temperature, and my only regret is that I’d forgotten Jackson’s helmet.  Torrin had done kid rides several times during his life with me, so I wasn’t too worried about safety, keeping in mind of course that anything can happen with equines.  We proceeded with introducing Jackson to Torrin and putting her saddle on him.  I lifted Jackson into the saddle and gave her instructions she’d heard from me before when riding my ponies at the ranch:  if you get uncomfortable for any reason, say stop, and we will.  We proceeded making small circles around the paddock, with me walking alongside Jackson.  Torrin was his normal obedient and cooperative self, and Paula and I both verbally praised him.

When we had arrived, I had walked over to the paddock fence and verbally greeted Torrin, and then when we were saddling him, I had let him sniff my hand.  He didn’t indicate any sign of recognizing me.  I accepted that and expressed appreciation for him giving Jackson an opportunity to ride a Frozen horse.  About the third time around the paddock with Jackson aboard, we stopped to make sure all were happy.  I praised Torrin again for being a good boy. At those words, he suddenly turned his head, nickered, and then thoroughly sniffed my proffered hand with focus and intention.  His body language had changed, and it was immediately clear he knew exactly who I was.  It was a magical moment of connection and happiness that brought both Paula and me to tears.

Somehow my hair looks frosted here where I’m talking with my old friend, perhaps in honor of the event!

After a few more circles and some fun with Jackson mounting and dismounting on Paula’s oversized mounting block, we called the event a success and prepared to depart.  I took a few moments to again connect with Mr. T and express appreciation for the time together that day and what we’d shared in the past.  I now have one experience reuniting with an old equine friend, and the magic of it I will remember for a long time.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2022

There are lots of stories about Torrin and me working together in my book The Partnered Pony, available internationally by clicking here or on the book cover.

Deadwood stagecoach. Courtesy Library of Congress.

My neighbor thought I was nuts when I offered to drive half way across the state of South Dakota to pick up a piece of equipment for him. After all, we had just made that four-hour drive a few days before when taking cattle to a sale. But I had discovered that about half the drive followed an historic stagecoach route, and I had a project there I wanted to do.

My neighbor has been making that drive for many years. It wasn’t until I was with him a few months ago, though, that he learned about the stage route connection. On that day, I noticed a white sign along the road that identified the stage route. And then I noticed another sign. And then another. My curiosity was piqued! I had already been studying a stage route near where we live: the Cheyenne to Deadwood Trail. This newly discovered (for us) trail was from Fort Pierre to Deadwood - Deadwood being a gold mining town beginning in the late 1800s. Fort Pierre, on the Missouri River, was the closest that boats could get to that gold mining district in the Black Hills. From Fort Pierre, stagecoaches took passengers and ox trains took cargo to Deadwood.

When we passed the first sign on that discovery trip, my neighbor asked how far it might be to the next sign. I guessed 8-12 miles since that’s the typical distance between stage stops, which was determined by the stamina of the horses pulling the stagecoach and the terrain over which they were traveling. But the distance this time was just 2 miles, which is unusual for markers of historic trails.

It turns out that the Fort Pierre to Deadwood trail was very fortunate to have some dedicated fans. In the 1970s, local ranchers Roy and Edith Norman took an interest in ensuring the trail’s history would be remembered. Roy had learned of the trail and its many significant features when riding horseback as a young man. So he and Edith created signs and placed them along the highway with the permission of the landowners. On the signs, they included GPS coordinates that they had surveyed, marking the exact location of the features described on the signs. Volunteers since then have maintained the signs. The signs all face east, for westbound traffic, reflecting the historic flow of people, animals, and goods.

On my equipment hauling day, my project was to photograph all the signs west of Fort Pierre along my route. As it turned out, I only managed to stop and photograph a third of the signs before I ran out of time; you can see them below. Since ranch errands often take us that way, I look forward to finishing the project in the future. A few of the signs that I did take pictures of indicate where the Black and Yellow Trail and the Deadwood Trail cross. The Black and Yellow Trail was a promotional trail inspired by the emerging popularity of the automobile in the early 20th century. The Black and Yellow Trail connected Chicago with the Black Hills and Yellowstone National Park .

I suspect I have my neighbor thinking differently about features along the route. On that first discovery trip, he asked about a town ahead, wondering if it was founded to support the railroad that paralleled the highway. I smiled and explained that, in my research of various historic trails, what are today highways often follow rail corridors, which often followed stagecoach trails, which sometimes followed Pony Express mail routes, both of which often followed native trails. So the town in question may well have pre-dated the railroad because it was a station on the stagecoach or Pony Express route.

Post offices are indicated by some signs, reflecting that an important early use of the trail was for mail delivery. In addition to the signs along the route marking the Deadwood and Black and Yellow Trails are other privately erected interpretive signs about Native American history. A rich route indeed!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2022

Ponies grazing near blowdown due to microburst six months before.

I came outside to do my last-of-the-day check on the ponies before dark. On the hillside to the southeast I noticed black spots up high, so after feeding my stallion, I headed towards the black spots thinking they were my mare herd. I got about two-thirds of the way to them, and it seemed strange that the black spots would be my ponies because they were in the prevailing wind. Usually the ponies seek areas that are sheltered from the wind. Then I realized that what I was seeing was cattle.

I climbed around a knoll, and sure enough, two ravines over on the top of a level spot out of the wind, I saw my ponies. By the time I got through those two ravines, only two ponies were close enough to me to say hello to. I couldn’t venture to the others up higher because impending darkness meant I needed to start heading down. As I called good night to the rest of the herd and headed down the hill instead of towards them, I heard a young pony cry out to me. It was Lettie, the two-month-old daughter of my heart pony, wondering why I wasn’t coming to say hello.

My pony herd has created or enhanced paths across the landscape: the obvious one on left and another on the right under red arrow

As I turned downhill, I realized that the approaching darkness was going to make my descent interesting. I was still favoring a sprained ankle, so I needed a route down as free of obstructions as possible. I also needed a route where I could see the ground in the failing light, since the grasses and shrubs easily obscured rocks and holes that my ankle would be quite unhappy encountering. Around me were numerous downed trees, the result of a microburst or mini-tornado in the spring, making the choice of route even more complicated than usual.

My ponies have now been on this pasture long enough that they have established paths across the landscape, in many cases using paths created by other, sometimes previous, four-legged inhabitants. I have learned by following them that the ponies typically choose routes that are relatively free of obstructions so can be trusted from that regard, and while they may not appear to go where I need to, they likely lead to another path that will indeed go where I want to go. So I looked about me in the failing light and was relieved to see that the ponies had not only made paths in the area but had rerouted them since the blowdown. A pony path was just what I needed when I couldn’t see very well.

Trees down over fence due to microburst

As I pondered which of the paths to use around the downed trees, I remembered a story in the histories I’ve been reading about this area. The story said that while Native Americans loved the Black Hills and considered them sacred, they also were afraid of them because they felt the Great Spirit grew angry often and caused wild wind storms. Having witnessed myself that microburst a few months before, I could totally relate to that mixed feeling of awe and fear. The cattle that had led me astray in my search for ponies were in the pony pasture because the microburst took out much of the fence on that end. The ponies have not ventured out, but the cattle have ventured in!

I am very aware that my presence in the Black Hills here in South Dakota has been made possible by a broken treaty in the 1800s. The US government had agreed with the local tribes that they could have the Black Hills, and the government would keep Americans out. But then gold was found in the Hills, and the US government reversed course and allowed miners and prospectors and supporting businesses to enter the Black Hills. I don’t like it when agreements I make with other people are broken, so I completely understand that the tribes felt violated and may still. Knowing that my presence here is due to a broken treaty makes every day here a gift.

It is easy to assume that things were the same in the past as they are in the present, but that’s usually not the case, just like the pony trails have changed over time to adapt to changing circumstances, and Euro-Americans now occupy land once occupied by native tribes. I read a story recently about two native American tribes that pushed a third tribe out of a region that they all occupied in the 1800s. Where the tribes were prior to being forced onto reservations isn’t necessarily where they were just a few decades before that.

Petroglyphs that researchers have chalked in to improve visibility.

Near where I live are petroglyphs, historic rock art created by ancient Americans. I have been told repeatedly that the art was done not by today’s native Americans but by people who lived here before them. The art has been dated to 3,000 to 6,000 years ago. Who lives in these Black Hills has obviously changed over time for a very long time indeed.

Maiden Castle (the pile of rocks on the mid horizon) on Burnmoor in the Lake District, Cumbria

It’s thanks to my ponies that I have an enhanced appreciation for how things change over time. It was on an historic packhorse track in the Lake District that I first appreciated that that area was settled by successive waves of humanity. On that trip it was the ruins known as Maiden Castle that I visited alongside two Fell Ponies that underscored for me that how a landscape is utilized today isn’t how it was utilized previously and that the people using it now aren’t the ones that used it before. The Lake District saw settlement by Romans and Vikings long before our time. There is evidence of Bronze Age and medieval settlement preceding more modern uses. Maiden Castle is considered Bronze Age by some and may also have been used as a communication beacon in the day. (1) For me, though, its importance is as a marker of changing circumstances, including how people steward land, what tools they bring to bear in that work, and how nothing ultimately stays the same. I am watching now with great interest as the Lake District’s humans struggle to figure out the way that stewardship of that landscape will look in the near-term future. Fell Pony stewards hope our ponies have a continuing opportunity to use the landscape as they have for centuries, while others want the use of the landscape to be different in the future. This struggle is at the same time current and ancient.

Here in the Black Hills, I’m aware of how this area has been used by successive waves of humanity, too. Of course I don’t know all the stories of humans in this place, but I know enough that each of us is here but transitorily. The Oglala Sioux tribe, former users of this landscape, now occupy a reservation to the southeast of these Hills, but it turns out they do own land here. I was fortunate to overlook a piece of their property, as American society currently defines it, on a summer venture into a nearby canyon. Perhaps the tribe will one day again make use of the Hills as they once did, but it’s also possible and maybe even more likely that it will be another wave of humanity that comes here to leave their own paths on the landscape that my ponies and I currently tread.

1) Fair, Mary C. “Some Notes on the Eskdale Twentyfour Book.” Read at Carlisle, April 7th, 1921. CWAAS Volume 22, #7.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2021

I am intrigued by how my Fell Ponies use the landscape where they live. Four are visible just above the lower trees.

The Fell Pony is in part a landscape-adapted breed. (1) As a Fell Pony steward, then, it’s not surprising that I am intrigued by how Fell Ponies use the landscape where they live. My best mornings are when I wake up and look out the window and see my herd of mares high on the hill that is their pasture, similar to how their ancestors have lived in England on the fells for centuries. The picture here shows one such view.

I am also intrigued by how people use landscapes. That’s why I’m currently writing a series of articles for Rural Heritage magazine on regenerative agriculture. And being so intrigued explains why I am enthralled with the workings of the cattle ranch where I live here in South Dakota.

So I suppose it’s no surprise that I’m especially intrigued by how humans and equines work on landscapes together. Orchard Hill Farm in Ontario, Canada features in several of my regenerative agriculture articles in part because they use their Suffolk Punch draft horses in their market garden. That Suffolks are a rare breed made the stories there even more of interest. (Click here to see pictures on Orchard Hill’s website.) Closer to home, I hope to get my ponies more involved on the cattle ranch where we live. The picture shows when Willowtrail Wild Rose and I encountered a hay trailer recently unloaded while out on a ride.

I am also intrigued by how people interact with landscapes, including on the cattle ranch where we live. A load of hay was recently unloaded from this semi.

I have been blessed to be writing articles for Rural Heritage for many years about draft horse use on farms and to compile an entire book about harness. And I have a series underway in my Fell Pony newsletter about how the ancestors of Fell Ponies participated in the industrial and agricultural past of the region they call home in England. (Click here to read some of the articles.)

A completely different interaction of humans and equines on landscapes was during the stagecoach era. Over the years, I have read about stage coach routes and practices and companies on this continent, in Britain and in Australia. You can imagine then my elation when I learned that an important stagecoach route went within just a few miles of where I now live. This area and places I regularly see when we travel nearby are rich with stage coach history. I made this discovery while researching my articles on regenerative agriculture!

Looking north towards Minnekahta along the Mickelson Trail , a Rails-to-Trails conversion in South Dakota. There is evidence nearby that this railroad followed an old native trail.

When we go to Custer, South Dakota, we go north from the Minnekahta Valley on Highway 89. Highway 89 follows roughly the route of the Mickelson Trail which is an old railroad bed converted to a trail under the Rails to Trails Act. When I heard that a stage route went nearby and north to Custer and on to Deadwood, I wasn’t surprised because over the years I’ve learned that often highways follow rail lines which follow old stage routes and pioneer wagon trails which often follow old native pathways. A picture shows Rose and I looking up the Mickelson Trail, and there is evidence of a native trail nearby. Pony Express routes often paralleled old stage routes, too. We found the marker shown in a photo along the North Platte River when investigating pioneer wagon train routes.

Pony Express routes often paralleled stage routes and pioneer trails. This marker is near a part of the Oregon Trail in Wyoming.

In the course of my education about this area, I had been told about the Metz massacre nearby. But it wasn’t until a Red Canyon resident told his version of the story to me that I realized just how close it was to where I live. So when I had company coming and we were headed to Red Canyon for reasons of regenerative agriculture, I decided to get informed to be a better tour guide. That’s when I learned that the context of the Metz massacre in Red Canyon involved stagecoaches and so much more. For about a year beginning in 1876, the Cheyenne to Black Hills Stage ran through Red Canyon on its way to Custer and Deadwood. The reason was gold fever. The Red Canyon route was eventually abandoned by the stage company, but the route was still used by hopeful migrants. Click here to see a picture of the location of the Metz Massacre taken in 1876, about six months after the tragic event. Rarely do we have photos from this period!

The topography in the area of Red Canyon, with the steep-sided and narrow canyon itself in the mid ground.

The stage company abandoned the route in part because of a shorter route to the west, but also because of Red Canyon’s topography. One passenger described its hair-raising character: “Red Canyon was like a cake cut in two and the pieces shoved back a little. You couldn’t see the sky unless you put your head out of the coach.” (2) A picture here shows the topography of the area with the narrow slot of Red Canyon in the midground. Anyone intent on harming through-traffic had ample places to hide and advantageous positions up on the canyon walls from which to shoot or even just throw rocks to spook stock.

It was the massacre of the Metz family that eventually helped bring military attention to the area. Those responsible for the murders were never found. Some blamed it on Native Americans who certainly had ample reason to be hostile. More on that in the next story. Others say that it was likely the road agents who were active along the route. Just as Border Reivers wreaked havoc in the Fell Pony homeland in their day, road agents did similarly in their day, close to where my ponies now live.

I am grateful to my ponies for teaching me to look at landscapes with new eyes, appreciating how humans and equines have worked together in the past and can still.

1. The Fell Pony also has a breed description that breeders use in selection of breeding stock, so the breed is also in part a standardized one.

2. Spring, Agnes Wright. The Cheyenne & Black Hills Stage and Express Routes, p. 138. 2016 abridged and edited edition of the 1949 original.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2021

I heard on the news that most of North America is experiencing its longest streak of cold weather on record. I have certainly felt that this run of high temperatures in the single digits Fahrenheit (-15 C) is the longest I’ve encountered. I’m glad to know my memory is still serving me well!

When the weather is like this, I adjust my pony care routine. I check them earlier in the morning, and I spread extra hay then. The mares also adjust their routine. They have been meeting me at the barn at sundown rather than being out on the hill where I walk to find them. They are right to assume that their looks through their foggy breath will convince me to throw them some hay when normally I expect them to get what they need off the hill.

Having spent most of my life in the high elevations of Colorado and now South Dakota, I’m accustomed to three days in a row of below zero Fahrenheit nights and frigid days. I’ve learned that my ponies can handle it just fine, so I can too. But this run of six days, with more on the front end that weren’t exactly warm, I have found trying. I’m weary of three neck gaiters, three inches of ice to be broken off waterers and three different sets of chemical warmers to keep my body functioning. But I’m extremely grateful for my tough ponies. Though they’re greeting me with frosty eye lashes, ice crystalled muzzles, and elevated appetites, they still are holding their own as they sift hay or dry grass from the snow-covered ground.

I know there are places where this sort of weather is the norm in the winter rather than the exception. I admire folks and their critters who can handle it. Given how widespread this current weather system is, I suspect they’re dealing with their own sort of extreme. It doesn’t feel right to gripe when we’re all in this together!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2021

You can read more stories about my life with my ponies in What an Honor, available internationally by clicking here or on the book cover.

A fuzzy-in-more-ways-than-photography Fell Pony stallion Kinniside Asi

Around the start of each year, I have a tradition of wassailing my ponies. I take pieces of apple and/or carrot to each pony in my herd in turn. When I offer the treat to them, I thank them for their presence in my life and wish them a happy new year. Usually, the youngstock and my stallion aren’t interested in the edible attention, but they of course still get well wishes.

For many years, I had company when I wassailed the ponies. Now I make up for being alone by roping friends into the ritual. This year weather interfered with one friend’s physical presence, though I could definitely feel her presence in spirit. Another friend, for the second year in a row, made up for the thousand miles between us by wassailing hers at the same time as I did mine. It was great fun to get a photo texted to me of her first encounter as I was about to have the same.

I like to take pictures of my interactions with each pony each year as a sort of record of the herd. Being alone, getting pictures requires creativity. My stallion is currently housed by himself, so a camera on a tripod with a self-timer was put to use. Unfortunately, it appears to have been focused on a snowflake, so Asi and I are fuzzy, but I still like the picture. This year he at least mouthed the apple before spitting it out. In past years he hasn’t even taken it from me!

I found the mares out on the hill, and I was encouraged that I wouldn’t immediately have a mob around the camera and tripod because they were looking off into the distance. I triggered the self-timer and got a few shots but couldn’t retrigger it for fear of having it knocked over by a curious young Aimee. One of the pictures shows her looking right at it! I gave up on pictures and focused on the messages.

During a challenging week, after a challenging year, there is no question my ponies have made things easier than they might otherwise have been. I am so fortunate to have them in my life. I hope you can say the same. Happy New Year.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2021

There are more stories like this one in my book What an Honor, available internationally by clicking here or on the book cover.

Sometimes we’ll hear people say that everything in their life before now prepared them for the life they’re living currently.  I chuckled over the summer at how that wisdom has manifested again in my life. 

My days now of course revolve around my ponies.  Most of the year, they are extensively grazing on a large pasture.  It is my habit to check on them twice daily.  In the morning this usually involves bringing them into the corrals for vitamin buckets and a looking-over.  Later in the day, I walk to wherever they are on the hill.  Since a good portion of the hill isn’t visible from my house, sometimes I guess wrongly about their location and find myself walking an extra mile or more looking for them at the end of the day when I am already tired.  Not wanting to give up this late-day check, I nonetheless have learned that I need to not walk so much.

In my pre-pony life, I used a lot of personally-powered transportation.  I walked to school, walked on the beach, and took forest walks with my family.  As soon as I began to ride a bicycle, I rode it to school, rode it to house-sitting jobs, and rode it around the neighborhood.  In high school I even took a long-distance bicycle trip in Europe.   Another decade on, I learned to mountain bike and explored many breathtakingly beautiful desert landscapes in Utah. 

I find operating a vehicle powered by an engine to be tiring, or I could have used my pickup to drive the ranch roads to get a distant view of the hill and the location of my ponies.  Instead, though, I decided to harken back to my bicycle days.  I found a used mountain bike that could quickly be brought back into service, and before long my evening walks to find the ponies were directed by information on their location gathered by bicycling the ranch road to ascertain their whereabouts.  It is wonderful to be a little less exhausted at the end of the day!

One morning, all the ponies came in except Madie and Aimee.  I knew where they were, so I decided I would take their bucket to them rather than bring them to the corrals.  When I got part way to them, I realized I didn’t have to walk all the way.  I hung the feed bucket from the bike’s handlebars and rode to their location.  That’s when my chuckle was most hearty about my previous life preparing me for the life I lead now.

I’ve discovered one big difference so far about bicycling in my current life compared to my previous bicycling experiences.  My dogs go everywhere on the ranch that I go, and they don’t quite know what to make of me riding a bicycle.  I am constantly watchful of where they are so they don’t pull on my pants leg or dash in front of me, necessitating a hard application of the brakes.  The ponies, too, are having to get used to the idea of a bicycle in their midst.  I’m glad I can get them used to it because there is a wonderful public trail nearby open to equines as well as bicycles.  Someday soon we’ll be meeting two-wheelers there, I hope!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2020

There are more stories like this one in my book What an Honor, available internationally by clicking here or on the book cover.

Torrin and his friend DQ

Usually once a week I receive a picture of DQ.  He’s become the sidekick of my former Norwegian Fjord horse Torrin at his new home in Oregon.  DQ is a miniature donkey, and his full name is Don Quixote.  He lives next door but can usually be found at the fence when Torrin is also at the fence.  DQ has also captured the heart of Torrin’s owner which is of course why I receive pictures each week!

A more-than-three-decade friendship.

I have never been around a donkey, but when DQ first entered my life (virtually) via Torrin and his owner, I also heard around the same time two other stories of how donkeys had captured the hearts of humans.  The first story came from my brother and sister-in-law.  They traveled to Belgium to visit my sister-in-law’s family, and one cousin works as a caretaker of a park that has a farmstead.  More than three decades ago, a donkey was born there and then orphaned.  The cousin/caretaker bottle-fed the donkey and a relationship he treasures developed and has endured.  Today the donkey in his old age receives frozen orange slices as treats during hot summer weather.  That relationship has lasted longer than many human friendships do!

The second story came when a friend went to a driven horse clinic that spanned several days.  She was surprised when the highlight of her time away from her family was not driving the draft horses.  Instead her early morning moments shared with the resident donkey were what brought her the most joy.  The donkey’s owners observed that my friend’s connection with the donkey far exceeded anyone else’s, despite the short duration of their relationship.

Torrin’s owner who is DQ’s admirer shares this in closing, “So what else would I say about donkeys?  That they are much more than pint sized horses with ridiculous long ears and rough coats.  They too are a strong and ancient link in the lifelong work partnerships that equus has had with humans.  My guess is the size of their loads and the love they bring is far out of proportion to their diminutive stature.”  I look forward to when I might have my first opportunity to befriend a donkey and experience the richness that these people have!

Joy at a driving clinic came from an unexpected place!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2020

You can find more stories about how equines enrich our lives in my book The Partnered Pony, available internationally by clicking here or on the book cover below.

Whenever I spend time with my ponies, there are small interactions we have or things I observe that touch me.  Here are a few from the past month.

Salsify:  This common weed was one of my first pony’s favorite snacks.  I often gave the flower heads to her instead of treats.  Mya is now in a loving home elsewhere, so when I saw a salsify plant and thought of her, I picked it and fed it to the pony here who was a friend of hers.  Madie seemed to appreciate the gesture, if not the meaning!

Gratitude:  It was four in the morning. I’d just come home from being up all night taking Asi to the hospital and seeing him settled there.  The evening before I hadn’t been able to swap day ponies for night ponies, so after feeding the ponies in the paddocks, I pondered what to do.  Dawn was just lightening the eastern sky and a near-full moon was still bright to the west, so I could see reasonably well.  I looked over the fence into the pasture, and there was Pearl.  I went to get her halter, and by the time I got back to the gate, Madie and Aimee had arrived, too.  I put all three away for the ‘night,’ thankful that they had been so extremely cooperative when I was exhausted.

Aimee and Pearl:  When Aimee was about a month old, she and her mom came to see me when I was at the barn.  Three-year-old Pearl was also there and was the object of my attention; I needed to bring her into a paddock.  I tied Aimee’s mom Madie then went to halter Pearl.  Much to Madie’s frustration, Aimee started following me towards Pearl.  Pearl was somewhat concerned about the fit Madie was throwing, but Aimee wasn’t bothered and walked right up to Pearl and sniffed noses.  She didn’t do the typical ‘I am just a little foal’ mouthy submissive type of approach.  She walked up as if she were the same size and age and introduced herself.  I nearly fell over laughing!  I thought to myself, you’re a confident little one, aren’t you!  The next time I saw Aimee and Pearl, though, Aimee did approach more meekly.

Aimee Answers:  This young pony is quite remarkable, so that’s why so many of these stories are about her.  One late afternoon I went out to do chores, including swapping the day ponies for the night ponies.  I was tired and I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do a lot of walking to find the ponies on the hill, but they were nowhere to be seen, so I wasn’t optimistic.  As I was cleaning Asi’s stall, I sent out a silent message to my hill ponies that it would be really helpful if they would make their whereabouts known so I could easily find them.  The next thing I knew, there was a whinny nearby.  At first I didn’t see any ponies, until I realized it was little Aimee behind the fence at the waterer answering my request.  What a pony!

Aimee on the Rock:  One night when I was bringing Madie and Aimee in, I stopped next to a prominent rock.  It’s a flat hunk with a slight slant to it and a surface of about five feet by twelve feet.  Sometimes I call it my inversion table, a natural version of a healing tool I recently learned about from my chiropractor, because it’s big enough to lie down on.  That night as we paused there, Aimee walked past me and out onto the rock.  I was surprised at her confidence to just walk out on the slightly irregular surface.   I hurriedly took a picture of this unusual behavior, but it didn’t come out very well because she lost interest and hopped off to go elsewhere.  Then the other night, I was bringing Madie and Aimee in again past that rock, but this time Aimee was quite a ways behind us.  When I realized she wasn’t with us, I turned around, and there she was, standing on the rock.  This time I had plenty of time for pictures!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2020

As we stood there in shock waiting for the vet to decide what to do, Linda and I both asked my Fell Pony stallion Kinniside Asi, “How could you be so stupid?”  Not wanting to call my pony stupid, I revised my admonition to “How could you do this to yourself?”  Bruce and Linda and I have worked hard to make him a home here that has equine-friendly fencing, but he had opened a gate and let himself out and run a fence with a mare in heat on the other side.  He had lots of fun for the first few minutes, but that all changed in a brief instant.

Linda’s admonition had its roots in the fact that Asi had not stood still to be haltered when we approached him during those first few minutes.  Had he done that, or had the mare on the other side of the fence done that, the injury would never have happened.  But neither of them made that choice.  Sometimes I am amazed at the power of hormones.

The next day, with Asi in a hospital, I walked the fence line to try to understand what had happened.  I found a section of fence with Asi’s mane and other hair in it, but my detective work did not reveal how the injury had happened.  I began to wonder if I was giving Asi too much credit.  Maybe his hormones had in fact caused him to lose his senses and not exercise any self-preservation.  I prepared to go visit him two hours away, replaying in my mind the evidence I’d found as I drove.  In addition to hair in the fence wire, I had also found numerous broken juniper branches.  The juniper was bushy down to the ground, and it was over my head in height, so it was in that realm of being somewhere between a shrub and a tree.  The fence disappeared into the juniper on one side and emerged on the other, but was invisible in between.

After a slightly longer night’s sleep than the first one when I’d spent most of the dark hours either on the road or watching Asi get stitched up, I went out to do more detective work.  This second visit to the scene bore more fruit.  I looked again at the hair in the fence and the broken branches on the ground, then I thought to part the juniper along the fence wire.  Sure enough, obscured by the dense foliage, I found a metal fence post.  My faith in Asi’s inherent intelligence returned.  He could not have seen that fence post when he launched himself toward the mare through the tree, breaking branches as he went.  His injury now made much more sense.

After being a poor detective with another pony’s injury a few days before, I took some satisfaction this time that I had figured out the sequence of events.  Now I just have to work with my two young ponies on our catch-me game when their hormones are driving their behavior, so I have some chance of preventing something similar from happening again.  Oh, and the gate Asi opened?  Bruce had a safety put in it before I even got home from the hospital!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2020

I was visiting a friend, and while we were talking in her barn, she coughed.  “It’s not coronavirus.  I promise,” she said quickly.  I believed her because she had been self-isolating, and she lived in an area where incidence of the pandemic had so far been low.  A dry cough is, of course, one of the symptoms of COVID-19.  I was at a cattle sale several weeks ago, and despite our efforts to sit away from other people, socially distancing ourselves, someone came in after we did, sat down behind me, then coughed in my direction.  I moved to another location quickly, and everything turned out all right, but we talk about that situation often whenever we venture into public.

The other day when my friend coughed, I also believed her assurance that her cough wasn’t due to COVID-19 because of what she said next.  “I’ve got a pony hair in my throat!” I have caught myself coughing multiple times for exactly the same reason.  It’s hair-in-the-throat season around here, with many of my ponies leaving me with handfuls of hair whenever I pet them.  Some of that hair, despite my best efforts, becomes airborne and enters my mouth.  Whenever I cough, though, I do catch myself pausing for a second to make sure I’m feeling all right otherwise.  What a fascinating time we are living through, where so much of what used to be normal is no longer that way.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2020

You can read more stories about my life with ponies and its connection to the world around us in my book The Partnered Pony, available internationally by clicking here or on the book cover.

Several years ago, an article with a sensational headline was posted on the internet:  “Shetland pony behind Thoroughbred Speed.”  It was quickly pointed out that the headline had no support in the text of the article, which was indeed about the source of speed in the Thoroughbred.  At the time, research based on DNA analysis had provided information on the genetic basis of the breed’s speed.  Fast forward several years, and the actual research paper finally crossed my desk.  Not only did it become clear why Shetlands were called out in the erroneous headline, but also the article contained a surprise:  Galloways, often linked to Fell Ponies, were called out too.  In addition, Connemara and Highland Ponies were part of the research data set. (1)

Galloways as pictured in Oliver Goldsmith’s 1774 book Earth and Animated Nature

The researchers, based in England, Ireland and Sweden, both in academia and private industry, studied a gene that has one of two expressions:  sprint speed (C allele) or stayer/endurance (T allele).  They found that the C-allele is “not restricted to the Thoroughbred and Thoroughbred derived populations, is not a new mutation, and seems to occur at variable frequencies depending on the selection pressures on the population.” 

The history of the Thoroughbred suggests that the stayer/endurance type equine would have been more favored in earlier times when races were longer and several heats were run, whereas sprinters are more favored in modern times when single races over relatively short distances are run.  The Thoroughbred is interesting to study because it has had a closed stud book since 1791, so the researchers point out that the C-allele must have been present at the founding of the breed, but that it has been concentrated in modern times by selective breeding. 

The researchers were able to sample past significant Thoroughbred sires, such as Eclipse foaled in 1764, to learn that all of the historic sires were homozygous for the stayer gene.  Then using pedigree analysis of modern day sprinter versus stayer horses and doing DNA analysis of them, the researchers concluded that the C-allele was introduced as a founding event on the female side, from perhaps a single mare.   Since the breed was created in England, a British mare or mares is therefore assumed to be the source of the speed gene (C-allele).

In addition to looking at the presence of the sprinter and stayer genes in Thoroughbreds, the researchers also sampled numerous other types of equines to try to determine where the sprinter gene may have come from.  Donkeys and zebras were found to have no sprinter genes (all stayers T/T).  In fact the only sample where sprinter genes were dominant and homozygous was in the Quarter Horse where 83% of the samples were C/C, compared to only 22% of Thoroughbreds over all.  Modern sprinter type Thoroughbreds were homozygous for the sprinter gene in only 46% of samples.  So it was surprising to learn that the Shetland pony samples had an average of 34% homozygous sprinter alleles (C/C).  The headline writer can be forgiven for leaping to their erroneous conclusion of a link via speed between Shetlands and Thoroughbreds!  No other equine group that was sampled, outside Thoroughbreds and Quarter Horses, had as high a percentage of homozygous sprinters nor as high a frequency of the C allele as the Shetland.  I found this quite amazing.  Keep in mind, though, that there were lots of breeds that were not included in the research.

Most equine enthusiasts are aware of the three legendary founding sires of the Thoroughbred:  The Godolphin Arabian, the Darley Arabian, and the Byerly Turk.  Equine researcher Deb Bennett, PhD, has posited that the English Hobby, an extinct breed/type, populated the female side of early Thoroughbred pedigrees.  Because the Hobbies crossed so well with the eastern sires, breeds created from the cross survived down through time while the Hobby was lost.  Yet some of those breeds also suffered extinction from their own success as crosses, including the Scottish Galloway, according to Bennett.  (2)

The researchers mention the Galloway in a context I was not previously familiar with: “…the Galloway breed, which was the preeminent British racing population before the formal foundation of the Thoroughbred breed.”  I had never before heard of Galloways as formal racers.  Informal, yes, as the mounts of the Border Reivers, but I was not aware of the history of racing before the Thoroughbred.  Miriam Bibby, who many Fell Pony enthusiasts know through her association with History on Horseback, contributed to the book The Horse in Pre-modern European Culture.  She says there that formal racing began at the Scottish/English border in the late 16th century. The Fell Pony Museum cites an announcement in the Newcastle Courant for a race at Penrith on June 17, 1736 exclusively for Galloways.

I found the following statement by the researchers problematic:  “The Shetland is closely-related (at least geographically) to the Galloway…”  First, there are other breeds that the Shetland is closer to geographically, such as the Highland Pony in the north of Scotland.  The historic range of the Galloway is towards the south of Scotland, often particularly along the Solway Firth.  And second, genetic research often links the Shetland breed more closely to the Nordic breeds than to the other British mountain and moorland breeds; the Shetland Islands are nearly as close to Norway as they are to Scotland. So it’s not clear to me that the Shetland and Galloway are very closely related.  I suspect the researchers made this statement to try to tie the Shetland to an early racing type that might have contributed the speed gene to the Thoroughbred.  The researchers could definitely have made better choices for comparison, however.  Bennett lists the following extant breeds similar to Galloways who are descended from Hobbies crossed on eastern sires:  “Welsh, Dartmoor, Asturian, Galician, Navarrese, Mérens, and Breton.”  Bennett says that the Irish Kerry Bog pony is the last remaining direct descendant of the Hobbies.

In addition to the Shetland, the researchers sampled two other mountain and moorland breeds:  the Highland and the Connemara.  In both these breeds, unlike the Shetland, the speed gene (C-allele) appeared in only 10% of samples with 86% of samples being homozygous for the stayer allele.  The Fell Pony is usually said to have significant endurance and is sometimes said to be related to the Highland.  These Highland results certainly lead one to believe that Fells are more stayer than sprinter.  The results for the Highland also distinguish it clearly from its near-neighbor the Shetland.

The Connemara hails from County Galway in Ireland.  When I mentioned the research about the speed gene to my friend Eddie McDonough, he recalled a song about horse races in Galway sung by the Dubliners.  I was struck by the lyrics that so easily conjured the excitement of a race day.  To listen, click here! I will continue to wonder if Galloways, while being known for speed, were truly sprinters or whether they were stayers like their modern mountain and moorland kin.

1. Bower, Mim A., et al.  “The genetic origin and history of speed in the Thoroughbred racehorse,” Nature Communications, 1/24/12.

2. Bennett, Deb, PhD.  “The World’s Most Important Horse Breed,” Equus #446, November 2014.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2020

My book The Partnered Pony celebrates how ponies improve our world. The book is available internationally by clicking here or on the book cover.

At the groundbreaking ceremony for the Temple Grandin Equine Center at Colorado State University, a simulated tour of the new facility was shown.  On a wall was a mural with Temple Grandin’s quote, “The world needs different kinds of minds to work together.”   When Dr. Grandin herself spoke at the ceremony, she did so from her own experience as someone on the autism spectrum.  She says she thinks visually, which allows her to create novel but effective concepts for livestock handling facilities, but when it comes to building those facilities she needs help from people who think analytically/mathematically to do the mechanical designs and she needs help from people who think in words to write the books that share her concepts more broadly.

The facility that will bear her name, and the program that has already born her name for a few years, strives to integrate the three tenets of a land-grant university - education, research, and outreach – around equine assisted services for therapy.  In addition to how equine-assisted services have positive impacts on children on the autism spectrum, faculty research has also looked at positive impacts on seniors with dementia.  Additional target audiences include veterans with PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) and physically challenged individuals.

The groundbreaking ceremony was very sanitary, with shiny new hard hats and gold-painted shovels used by dignitaries to move pre-piled dirt from one place to another inside an arena next door to the site of the eventual Center.  No horses were present, nor was there any portrayal beyond a photograph of the often profound difference that equine-assisted services for therapy can make in a client’s life.  The organizing philosophy of the Center seems to be to put structure around research on equine assisted services for therapy and structure in the form of a specially designed facility around the educational and outreach arms of the university’s mission as it relates to equine-assisted services for therapy.

In casual conversation I learned that there was minor disgruntlement about Dr. Grandin’s name being on the Center.  Dr. Grandin is an advocate for humane slaughter, while many in the equine community are against slaughter.  Her words in her remarks ‘we need all kinds of minds’ are so important not only globally but also within our own community.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2020

It would be dishonest to say I watched the entire movie.  But when I learned that Pit Pony existed, it was immediately on my must-see list.  While the movie features Sable Island Ponies being used in underground coal mines in Nova Scotia, the movie nonetheless had several Fell Pony connections for m

My Welsh/Shetland cross put to a manure sled

One of those connections was a DNA study done about ten years ago by Dr. Gus Cothran that included both Sable Island and Fell ponies. The study investigated the genetic diversity of the various equine populations in or related to native Canadian breeds.  The study found, for the Sable Island equines, that they were more related to Nordic pony breeds than Mountain and Moorland breeds and that the Sable Island equines were highly inbred.

The Wikipedia entry calls them Sable Island horses.  Other than having the height of a pony (13-14 hands), they are considered to have a horse phenotype (physical form and structure, behavior, etc.) Their history certainly suggests that their origin is in horse breeds; their short stature is due to adverse environmental conditions.  Haflingers are another pony-like breed that are often said to have a horse phenotype, though in my experience, there is sufficient diversity in that breed that allows some individuals to be more pony-like and others more horse-like.  The equines in the movie looked to me to be more on the pony end of the spectrum, but of course it is unlikely any of them were Sable Island equines since the Sable Island population is feral so unlikely to be available for use on a movie set.

The reason that I couldn’t watch all of the movie also has a Fell Pony connection.  In fact, I started the movie one night and had to shut it off and come back to it another night when I had the strength to finish watching it.  A recurring theme in the movie brought back to me a story that my friend Joe Langcake told me about a family he knew from his days delivering milk with a Fell Pony pulling a milk float (cart).  The father of the family worked in a mine whose shafts went down then out under the North Sea.  After a mine explosion (I would guess in the 1930s), the father didn’t come home.  The tunnel in which the explosion occurred was bricked shut immediately after the explosion to keep the remainder of the mine safe.  A few weeks later the brick wall was taken down, and the father of the family was found on the other side, deceased, and had left a note.  He apparently had been able to escape from the rubble but found his exit to safety blocked by the brick wall.  Perhaps it was Joe’s telling, but that story will be with me forever.

Joe also told me many stories of training small unregistered Fell Ponies as pit ponies when he was a boy.  Then I learned a different angle connecting Fells to pit ponies in Roy B. Charlton’s book A Lifetime with Ponies.   Charlton tells of how his Fell Ponies were crossed with Shetland and Welsh ponies to create the perfect sized pony for the pits.  My first pony was a Shetland/Welsh cross with an incredible work ethic that I crossed on my Fells, so I have had firsthand experience with what working with a pit pony might have been like.  I completely understand the love that so many miners had for their ponies, a feeling well conveyed in the Pit Pony movie.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2020

A related story called “Colorado Pit Pony” can be found in my book The Partnered Pony, available internationally by clicking here or on the book cover.

Between April 1860 and October 1861, the Pony Express carried 35,000 pieces of mail by horseback between St. Joseph, Missouri and Sacramento, California.  The service halved the time it took for mail to be carried between those cities by stagecoach at that time.  I didn’t know until this holiday season that mail is still carried on the Pony Express route each year.  I learned about the Pony Express Christmas Card Ride when friends received a Christmas card stamped with that information.

The National Pony Express Association (NPEA) organizes a re-ride annually, alternating westbound and eastbound.  The envelope my friends received was carried from Douglas to Glendo in Wyoming.  An acquaintance of theirs is a devoted member of the NPEA and participated in this year’s re-ride and sent the card.

I had always assumed that the ‘pony’ in Pony Express was more colloquial than accurate, but I was wrong.  The height of the 400 horses purchased for the original service averaged 14.2h in height.  On the eastern end of the route Morgans and Thoroughbreds were commonly stocked, while on the western end mustangs were more typical.

Riders had to weigh 125 pounds or less.  Each rider traveled about 75 miles, with horses averaging 15 miles each.  Riders switched horses at stations along the route at distances depending on terrain.  The service was terminated when telegraph service made it obsolete.

Despite being relatively short-lived, the Pony Express has an out-sized place in American western lore.  As one example, the newsletter of the Fell Pony Society of North America is called the Fell Pony Express.  And I have named my own trips to the mailbox similarly.  I admire the horsemen and women who support the NPEA and make re-rides happen so that I get to see an envelope carried on the historic route!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2019

When I made the decision to move to a place where the ponies would run on a very large pasture, I wondered how it would change our relationship.  Previously, for nine months of the year, they lived at home in paddocks where they saw me multiple times a day. They regularly greeted me at the fence when I came outside, usually to feed them.  The other three months of the year, they ran on a large pasture in a willow bottom with a river.  While they didn’t meet me at the fence on a regular basis, they did usually come when I called.  I wondered, when they are able to extensively graze all through the winter on a much larger pasture, would they still be interested in my company?

We have been in this new place just three months, but I have an answer to my question so far.  Before when at pasture, I only was with them twice a day briefly.  Here, I live at the foot of their pasture, so they hear my comings and goings easily.  And more often than not, when I show up at the barn to do morning chores, my ponies are at the gate, waiting to greet me when I arrive.  Other times of the day I sometimes see them at a distance, so I know they aren’t always at the gate and I know they aren’t always within view of the barn.  It is humbling to think they think enough of me to come in to be with me as often as they do.

The evening of this Christmas Eve, I was pondering that it is the first such holiday night that I have spent alone (by choice; I could have gone out).  Yet I have received emails and messages and texts from friends and family sending their love and care, so I haven’t been alone in that regard.  And tonight at dark when I went to the barn to feed the ponies in the paddocks there, my mares - who could have been elsewhere on that huge pasture - were at the gate.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2019

When I was studying electrical engineering in college, about halfway through my course work, I got stuck.  In his lectures and in his text book, I could not understand what my electronics professor was saying.  Since that class was pretty fundamental to earning my degree, this was near-crisis stuff.  I spent hours holed up in the library studying my notes, re-reading the text, and watching and rewatching recordings of lectures.  Slowly the subject matter began to make sense.  I had to look at things at the most basic level. I had to look at how electrons move.  How electrons move determines how circuits work and then computers and phones and other devices and then the apps that run on them.

While electrical engineering is no longer a regular part of my days, the movement of electrons is ever-present.  When an electron moves, energy moves, and when many electrons move together, energy fields are formed and transformed.  Not much surprises me anymore where energy fields are concerned. They are around me in infinite ways, including in my ponies and other living things and even in the landscape where we live.

These two were at the fence in front of my house after sensing electrons in motion.

So I wasn’t really surprised by what I found when I emerged from my house late in the day. It was, nonetheless, incredibly touching.  I’d had an emotional melt-down after receiving a few emails, and tears flowed as I contemplated them while cleaning house.  The first being I encountered when I went out the door was my dog, and it was clear she wanted to be with me. She always does when I am upset; I often call her and others like her that I have owned my emotional barometers.  Outside, two of my ponies were at the fence as close to the house as they could get, and a third called to me immediately.  Then a barn cat that has adopted me came to me from her hiding place.  How did they all know that I was upset?  Their knowing has happened enough times now that I no longer consider it a coincidence.

Emotions are energy in motion.  The amazing thing about energy in motion is that it can travel long distances and it can do so nearly instantaneously.  My animal companions had sensed a shift in my energy field.  Not only that, but they chose to respond.  It was humbling that they made that choice.  Of course I began to feel better.  And I remembered with gratitude those long hours of study about how electrons move.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2019

More stories like this one can be found in my book The Partnered Pony: What’s Possible, Practical, and Powerful with Small Equines, available internationally by clicking here or on the book cover.

Calista messing with the gate, again!

I seem to go through phases with my ponies where gates are a topic of conversation, as in I close them and a pony opens them, repeatedly, for several days, until I figure out how to solve the problem.  Most of the time I figure out which pony is the culprit, sometimes indirectly, sometimes by direct observation. 

I seem to have conquered the current spate of gate conversations, but only after having my four youngsters out on the ranch road once and in a paddock where they weren’t supposed to be twice more.  I even watched one of the weanlings go up a pile of dirt and jump the remaining three feet of fence to gain freedom (her mother was the attraction, weaning the problem to be solved!)  Calista was the gate opener, breaking two different hasps until I got one she couldn’t foil (at least so far!)

Madie has also been demonstrating her gate opening prowess.  She’s in a paddock with a heavy wooden gate.  It swings nicely on its hinges and falls shut but must then be latched.  One day while I was haltering Madie’s paddock mate away from the gate, which I had not latched, I heard the gate fall shut.  I turned around and watched Madie push the gate open with her nose and let it fall shut then push it open again and let it fall shut.  She was clearly demonstrating for my benefit that she understood how the gate worked.  It was so hilarious that I shot video of Madie’s routine!

Madie demonstrating her gate-opening prowess

The intelligence and sense of humor of my ponies I find endlessly entertaining.  It’s probably not something everyone enjoys, but they make my days more interesting, and for that I’m thankful!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2019

More entertaining stories about ponies can be found in my book The Partnered Pony, available internationally by clicking here or on the book cover.

At O’Fallon’s Bluff in Nebraska, inlaid brick shows the line of Oregon Trail wagon wheel ruts on the ground, with wagon sculptures showing the path across the landscape.

My pickup just told me it has been ten thousand miles since I began moving Willowtrail Farm from Colorado to South Dakota.  Some of those miles were also accumulated on my trip to St. Louis and back on a business trip.  I have two trips to Colorado remaining to complete my move, so I will be servicing my truck before them.  As I thought back over those ten thousand miles, I remembered noticing on some routes the regular distances between small settlements, and I smiled with the connections of these travel intervals to ponies and other equines.

The first route where I had that recognition was between Fort Collins, Colorado and Laramie, Wyoming.  I know it was a stagecoach route, so I appreciated the 8-12 mile distances between dots on the map such as Tie Siding, the state line, Virginia Dale, and Livermore.  Those distances were what the teams of horses pulling the coaches could sustainably work at speed.  Today most people whiz by what used to be important stops on overland travel.

On my trip to St. Louis, it was my personal travel interval between rest areas that brought another smile of recognition.  Today the interstate highway through Nebraska follows the Platte River and portions of the Oregon Trail.  One rest area was at O’Fallon’s Bluff, “one of the most difficult and dangerous spots on the trail,” according to the interpretive sign.  The landscape was still marked by wagon wheel ruts, and the spot was commemorated with brick laid to show the line of the ruts.  Wagon sculptures showed the lay of the trail.  The Pony Express, the short-lived horseback deliverer of mail, also went over O’Fallon’s Bluff.

Another rest area, near Lusk, Wyoming, also celebrates its connection to historic stagecoach travel.  It is a particularly beautiful – and well-placed – spot on my numerous journeys between Gould and Hot Springs.  The grave of a renowned stagecoach driver is there.  The interpretive sign says, “Here you stand on the Cheyenne-Deadwood Trail over which freight wagons and stagecoaches traveled between Cheyenne and the Black Hills gold mining area from 1876 to 1887.”  The railroads put an end to stagecoach travel.

The former Hecla, Nebraska on Highway 2 is one of a line of settlements approximately 8-12 miles apart, suggesting a travel interval from the time of equine-powered transport.

Highway 2 across western Nebraska was the most recent route where I noticed travel intervals reminiscent of equine-powered travel.  Though the interpretive sign for Hecla, Nebraska indicated that a rail stop was the raison-d’être of the former town, the travel intervals between settlements on that lonely road certainly suggest an equine-based mode of travel.

The sign at O’Fallon’s Bluff says, “Although the danger and hardships faced by early travelers no longer exist, the Great Platte Valley route remains an important modern thoroughfare across Nebraska and across the nation.”  The same is true for so many of the routes that we now travel at high speeds, rarely noticing how equine (and oxen) powered travel shaped development along the way.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2019

A Lac La Croix Indigenous pony courtesy Wikipedia

For a long time I have said that the United States doesn’t have a native working pony breed.  Now I’m beginning to wonder if one exists, and I just don’t know about it yet.  The story of the Lac La Croix Indigenous Pony has made me reconsider my former belief.  The similarities in its story to the Fell Pony I also found striking.

The Lac La Croix Indigenous Ponies are also known as Ojibwe Ponies and sometimes ‘indigenous’ is replaced with ‘Indian.”  This critically endangered pony breed is indeed native to North America and is thought to be the only pony breed created by indigenous people on this continent.  There are at least two origin stories for this breed.  One says that small Canadian horses were crossed with Spanish mustangs.  Indeed, two types are said to be present in the breed, one being more similar to Canadian horses and the other being more similar to the Spanish type.  In the 1970s only four LLCI ponies remained, all mares, and the breed has been brought back from the edge of extinction by judicious crossing with Spanish type mustangs.

Another origin story for the LLCI is more fascinating to ponder and has some support from Dr. Gus Cothran’s research saying the breed is genetically distinct.  Based on oral histories from native peoples and the presence of petroglyphs, the LLCI ponies are believed to have lived with their people since before Christopher Columbus “discovered” North America and introduced equines to the continent.  This story suggests that equines did not entirely go extinct on this continent after the last Ice Age, but instead remnant populations held on, with the LLCI ponies being one example.  I was reminded of the British mountain and moorland breeds that hung on despite King Henry VIII’s edict against small statured equines.

The LLCI ponies traditionally resided straddling the US/Canada border between Ontario and Minnesota.  They were ideally adapted for forest living, “a nose flap to hinder cold air from entering its lungs, rock-hard hooves for running over the Canadian Shield, fuzzy ears to protect it from insects…” (1)  The ponies are said to enjoy human company and indeed hung around human settlements, receiving food in exchange for helping with traplines, hauling wood for fires, and harvesting ice.  One parallel story in Fell Pony lore is from Viking times:  “The horses for riding or pack work were kept handy in the villages, and the breeding stock lived out on the fell, because they were able to fend for themselves.” (2)

Today the LLCI ponies are embedded in some native communities and are offering assistance in new ways as therapy workers.  They are helping indigenous people reconnect with their heritage and themselves.  The photographs of these ponies with their people are exceptionally beautiful; follow the link in the first footnote to see some.  For me, the kind eyes of these ponies and their interest in their humans is extremely reminiscent of Fell Ponies.  We who get to partner in our lives with ponies are so fortunate.

1. Nerberg, Susan.  “Lac La Croix pony saved from extinction by the Ojibwe,” Broadview, 10/2/19, as found at https://broadview.org/lac-la-croix-pony-saved-from-extinction-by-the-ojibwe/?fbclid=IwAR17LZGQFYCklUhs1LZnBpx3MZtCgoM-iBPOM7AK7lto0XVcXlX3CYMHYNE

2. Millard, Sue.  “Ploughing today, pirating tomorrow,” Vikings and Normans page, Fell Pony Museum website, http://www.fellponymuseum.org.uk/fells/vik_norm/vikings.htm

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2019