A Search at Twilight

I knew it could be an interesting end to the day when a thunderstorm rolled in about the time I was supposed to head out to do the last of the day’s chores. We had a much-needed good rain, and the temperatures dropped a blessed twenty degrees, so I wasn’t complaining. Nonetheless, I knew I would have just enough daylight left to bring a Fell Pony herd in off the hill if all went well.

When the lightning and thunder seemed sufficiently distant, I headed out to scan the hill for the Three Sisters herd in the low light. They were nowhere on the lowlands nor were they visible on the uplands. I went to the barn to do some of the chores there, hoping my noise would bring them in or at least make them visible. I also started calling, which I rarely have to do, to let them know I was serious about them needing to come to the barn. I sighed several times when there wasn’t an answering whinny or the sound of hoofbeats heading my way.

Willowtrail Spring Maiden, my thirteen-year-old Fell Pony mare, is the nearest to the camera and the one that responded to my calls from the barn by emerging from this hole on the hill long enough for me to see her from the lowlands.

As I took a feed bucket to my stallion, a part of the hill came into view that hadn’t been visible from the barn. I saw a dark spec, so I went and got binoculars to confirm that indeed it was a pony high on the hill who apparently had heard me calling. I immediately set my chores aside to gather my dogs and head out with a halter to climb the hill. I memorized the spot because the pony had disappeared.

When I had climbed a couple hundred feet in elevation to just below the spot where I had last seen the pony, I started worrying that they had gone elsewhere because they were nowhere to be seen. There’s no way I would have enough light to track them if they’d moved. Then I climbed a bit further because there was a small ridge I couldn’t see over, and a pony came into view. I thanked Willowtrail Spring Maiden profusely for hearing my call and making their position apparent. A few more steps, and the other two ponies were visible too.

I then walked past Willowtrail Mountain Honey, giving her a sideways greeting, towards my object of interest, the head of the herd, Willowtrail Wild Rose. I haltered Rose and started leading her down the hill. Her behavior was odd. She stopped every fifty yards or so for no apparent reason. Before long, it became clear what she was trying to communicate: the other two mares weren’t following. Normally they fall in right behind Rose in this sort of situation, but the cool temperatures and abundant grass high on the hill were apparently too much enticement.

I can barely see my house from where I’m standing taking this photo, so I will have to find a spot in the lowlands that gives me a better view, perhaps from the house behind mine.

Rose and I got to the barn, and I finished my chores there, calling to the ponies on the hill again and fully expecting to see them appear at the barn. Finally, when I finished chores and it was nearly dark, I realized I would have to go get Honey and Madie off the hill. I called frequently as I headed out from the barn and walked the quarter mile to the base of the hill. As we arrived there, my dogs alerted me to movement, and I saw with relief that the ponies were descending and making their way to me. When they trotted to me, I thanked Madie once again because I’m sure she started descending when she heard me calling. I then haltered Honey as the more dominant of the two. and she and I walked to the barn with Madie leading the way.

In hindsight, of course, I can see how things could have gone more smoothly. I could have taken a second halter to bring Honey in too rather than assume that she would follow Rose as she usually does. I could have listened to Rose’s communication about the other two not following and figured out a way to bring them along somehow. I do wonder why Rose only called once to her friends, despite me asking several times if she couldn’t, please, use her leadership skills to encourage them to follow! I could have more explicitly acknowledged Honey when on the hill and perhaps that would have enforced my role in the herd and she would have followed more willingly. All of those things might have meant I finished with more light and wouldn’t have stepped in a hole and twisted my ankle!

There were of course many positives from the adventure. Seeing the ponies on the hill at sunset is always special. In addition, I’m grateful for how Madie responded, moving into view so I could see where they were, and also descending when I was calling to them at dark. That’s a connection I look forward to expanding on. I’m grateful for Rose trying to communicate that I wasn’t being successful bringing in the whole herd. And probably most importantly, now I know there’s a spot up there where I really can’t see them from the lowlands and that I need to make special effort to check when I can’t find them elsewhere.

I’m so fortunate to share my life with these ponies!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2024

You can read more stories like this one in my book What an Honor, available internationally by clicking here and on the book cover.