“Quit Coaching the Ponies!”

Arrow pointing to location of ponies on the hill, taken from the stallion pen with Asi’s butt for context!

Shortly after the ponies and I moved to Scotty Springs Ranch last year, ranch co-owner Bruce Murdock starting telling me he couldn’t wait to see the ponies high on the hill.  It was in part because he hoped to see them perched regally on high and see them running with manes and tails flowing.  But it was also in part because he knew I brought them in each morning for vitamin buckets and inspection and training.  He hoped they would be as far away as possible to make me hike!  Well, it took a year but he got his wish!

The first hike way up the hill was an adventure.  As I started the second one the next day, though, I texted him saying “quit coaching the ponies!”  His accurate but annoying retort was, “the Fell Ponies of Cumbria.”  I responded with, “the fell of Scotty Springs!”

My young dog Ace looking at Calista emreging from under the pine tree.

We had three inches of snow overnight, and when I emerged from my house that morning, I looked up the hill and saw four black specs two-thirds of the way up.  I called out to them, saying they ought to come down and meet me at the barn.  I could tell they heard me because they had their heads up and faced in my direction, but I didn’t see any of them moving.  After I fed my stallion, I looked up the hill, and they were still on their same perch, looking in my direction.  One then moved slightly off and down, so I was hopeful they were headed in my direction, so I headed to the barn to prepare buckets.

Arrow points to where ponies were waiting for me above the barn as I came off the hill.

After the buckets were ready, I saw the other three ponies close to the barn, so I brought them in.  Then I looked up the hill again and realized that bringing the ponies in off the hill had just gotten more complicated.  Fog had covered the upper reaches of the hill, and I could no longer see the four ponies up there.  And because I could no longer see them, I also didn’t know exactly what route to take to get to them because making that journey was so new to me.  I wasn’t looking forward to the trek this time either because I was in winter-mud boots that were not my first choice for hiking on a rocky snow-covered hillside.  But I set off with my dogs for another climb of the mountain.

When we got up into the fog, stories told by people like Tom Lloyd in Cumbria of treks on the fells through fog easily came to mind.  When I got to where I thought the ponies were, there were no tracks at all in the snow, so I knew I was in the wrong place.  I decided I needed to go higher, so I began climbing again veering west.  Thank goodness something made me turn around because I saw a pony come into view through the fog across the hill to the east of me.  It was Drybarrows Calista who so often is the one that notifies me of the herd’s location.  I thanked her loudly and saw Willowtrail Mountain Honey descending farther away.  I turned around and started following them down.

The barn emerges from the fog and Calista comes to greet me. Her head is turned in order to discourage Ace the dog from trying to herd her.

As I got almost all the way down, the barn emerged from the fog and I could see my four hill climbers between me and there.  Calista, in her generous way, came to me to say hello as I got closer (her head is turned oddly in the picture; she was discouraging my young dog Ace from trying to herd her).  I haltered the lead mare and the others followed us to the barn in high spirits.  I was happy to have made it down in one piece and thankful I hadn’t needed to lead a pony down while picking my way down the slope.  I trust in time I’ll come to know the hill better so I’ll be better able to climb to the ponies wherever they are and do so more efficiently.  This time I will admit that the adventure into the fog was a fun way to start the day.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2020