Listening to Rose

When I stepped outside just after sundown, I could see the mares up on the flat to the east of my house. I climbed to them and realized it was windier and colder than I’d expected, so I was motivated to get to the barn as quickly as possible.

I asked my Fell Pony mare Willowtrail Wild Rose to carry me to the head of the trail down the hill. I also asked her to take care of me since I hadn’t worn a helmet. I mounted, and she carried me about one hundred feet then stopped and wouldn't walk again. I assumed it was the cold wind bothering her.

When I ask for Rose to take care of me, I have to accept that a refusal like this is because she's doing as I asked, so I dismounted and started leading her to the edge of the hill. After walking another hundred feet, she stopped and looked as you see here. I followed her gaze and saw that there were seven bull elk on the side of the far hill. From their direction of travel, they likely were closer to us when Rose first refused. She saw them; I didn't. She had determined that she couldn't take care of me and monitor the elk's movement. So she refused to carry me any closer. Fair enough!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2024

Phoebe's First Day on the Hill

Putting my new Fell Pony filly Bracklinn Phoebe out on the hill for the first time here at Willowtrail Farm didn’t go like I thought it would, and it was at the same time a perfect reflection of her wonderful temperament. Phoebe arrived here from Scotland the day before Thanksgiving after three weeks on the road. I kept her in a separate pen for three days to let her get used to the altitude and my management routine and as a transition from the confinement of travel. She could exchange air across fences with my mares to introduce herself but didn’t have to immediately deal with their more physical expressions of herd behavior.

Phoebe on the periphery of the Grandma Herd

I put her in with the Grandma herd for a few hours in the corrals the fourth day and then permanently the next. This herd has Bowthorne Matty, the overall herd leader at 17 years old, then Willowtrail Lettie, a two year old, and Willowtrail Marie, a weanling. It’s my hope that Lettie and Phoebe will bond. Of course at this point, Lettie is trying to maintain her place in the herd and is therefore pushing Phoebe, who is taller, around. By comparison, Marie and Matty rarely acknowledge Phoebe at all!

The hill pasture where the Bracklinn herd runs in Scotland is in the distance over the grey mare’s rump.

In Scotland, Phoebe spent part of the year on a hill pasture with her family herd, so I knew she’d understand what running on a hill would be like. What I needed her to learn from the other herd members here was how to get to the hill from the barn and back again, where the water is, and where there’s cover when the weather is adverse. For her to learn these things, she needed to stay with the herd when I let them out onto the hill. I wasn’t sure what to expect, so I watched carefully after I put them all out.

For a few minutes, the four of them ran around just outside the corral. Then all but Phoebe ran off to the hill. I wasn’t sure if Phoebe didn’t see them leave or chose not to follow them. When I saw her alone, I went out to her to let her know I’d help her find the herd, then I began tracking them in the fresh snow. They had descended into the ravine that separates the barn from the pasture, then ran out of sight. Phoebe didn’t follow me when I went into the ravine then out the other side into the pasture, so I returned to the barn for a halter and lead rope.

Once Phoebe understood where the herd was on the hill pasture, she willingly stayed with them to graze.

I have been so impressed by Phoebe’s ground manners, better than many yearlings I’ve imported, and the next few minutes cemented that impression. The wind was gusting, and she was in completely unfamiliar terrain, but she politely followed me down into the ravine and up the other side then out onto the hill pasture. She only got anxious when she spotted the herd. I took the halter off and watched her run to the herd. Lettie immediately began keeping her a dozen yards distant from Matty but Marie was willing to graze with Phoebe. I went back to the barn and watched the herd for the next half hour as I was doing chores. Satisfied that Phoebe was hanging with the herd as I needed her to do, I went inside.

Just before dark, I was thrilled to see four black dots on the hill together. Phoebe was staying with the herd!

Just before dark, I headed out to check on the herd and determine if Phoebe was okay to spend the night on the hill. Again, I needed her to be hanging with the others and the others needed to keep her in sight. Upon stepping outside, I was immediately thrilled with what I saw. Midway up the hill, I could see four dark spots in close proximity to each other. Sure enough, when I climbed up to the herd, they were indeed acting as a herd, though Lettie was still keeping Phoebe a good distance from Matty.

Bracklinn Phoebe on the hill at Willowtrail Farm.

I greeted each of the ponies, which mostly meant standing still as they each came to me, then I began my descent. Phoebe tried to follow me, so I modified my route to encourage her to stay with the other ponies. She eventually got the idea, turning around and climbing back up the hill and calling to the others. I was thoroughly impressed at her desire to connect with me, her willingness earlier to follow my leadership, and then her desire to be a part of the pony herd on the hill. She’s a delight in so many ways!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2023

The Rosehip Trip

Several weeks ago when I shared a picture of bright red rosehips and my Fell Pony mare Willowtrail Wild Rose, a Fell Pony colleague in England commented on the photo and mentioned rosehip syrup. I’d never heard of rosehip syrup before, so I reached out to the colleague, Christine Robinson, for her recipe. My curiosity was further raised, so I then put collecting rosehips on my list. We were in the midst of warm fall weather at the time, so I began watching for our first hard freeze since several sources suggested waiting to pick rosehips until then.

I spotted this rosehip patch while riding on the Mickelson Trail through the Ranch as part of the Fell Pony Society 96 Mile Memorial Challenge.

In the meantime, while riding the Mickelson Trail with my friends Paula and Torrin, I saw a huge patch of rosehips. It happened to be on a section of the Trail that is on the ranch where I live, so I made note of the location to return to. Previously I’d assumed my rosehip picking was going to be in widely dispersed and lightly populated places. This patch, though, meant I could get everything I needed in one spot.

Rose on the MIckelson Trail in search of the Rosehip Patch.

One morning when weather was pleasant after a run of freezing weather, I decided it was time to go pick. Paula had wisely suggested it was an excuse to put a pony to work, so I hitched the horse trailer, loaded Rose, and we headed to the far end of the ranch to a trail head. It was the first time I had ever taken Rose to a trail head by herself and then ridden her, so I wasn’t sure how she was going to feel about it. As it turned out, she did fabulously.

I couldn’t remember how far it was to the rosehip patch from the trail head, so my dogs and Rose and I headed out. It ended up being a mile and a half to the patch. The weather was pleasant so it was another beautiful autumn ride. When we got to the patch, I looped Rose’s lead rope over a fence post so she could graze, and I set to work picking, moving Rose to another fence post occasionally for her to have fresh grazing.

Rose was contentedly engaged with grazing while I picked rosehips nearby. I moved her from fencepost to fencepost as she needed new forage.

After about a half hour, I heard a twanging sound and soon figured out it was the wire fence that Rose was tied to. She didn’t seem concerned that the wires were jiggling, but I was. It turned out that one of my dogs had found something of interest on the top wire of the fence and could only get to it by jumping and snapping at it. The twanging was essentially her plucking the fence like a guitar string! I smiled but also took it as a sign to finish up my picking chore and head back to the trail head. Rose put her foot to the Trail as capably as she had on the way in. We saw only cattle and a rabbit on our trip, just the sort of outing I enjoy, on beautiful country with just my pony and dogs for company.

The fruits of our labors: rosehips!

The Rosehip Ride was the day after I had completed the Fell Pony Society 96 Mile Queen Elizabeth II Memorial Challenge. I was once again thankful for the Challenge for getting Rose and me in riding condition. Our spontaneous trip to the rosehip patch wouldn’t have happened otherwise. Now it was time to make rosehip syrup!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2023

Under Heavy Skies

I went out later in the evening than I probably should have. I was assuming that the mares and foals had come into the barn on their own as they had been doing every night for awhile. I was especially hopeful they were in because the skies were very heavy: dark and full of moisture with thunder and lightning punctuating regularly.

When I stepped outside to go to the barn, though, I could see I was out of luck. On the other hand, at least I knew where one mare was. Her foal was silhouetted against the dark sky high on the hill. I cast an eye in the direction of the lightning and then towards the pony up high and decided we had a window of time to get up there and down safely. So we, my dogs and I, started climbing. We stayed under trees as much as we could, and I counted between every lightning flash and thunder boom to make sure those features weren’t coming our way.

When we got up to where I had seen the pony silhouetted against the sky, I found only one mare and foal instead of two pair. We were very exposed, so after walking a short distance to see if I could find the other pair, I decided we’d have to go down without them and hope they would join up with us eventually. Usually the two pair are together.

Just as we had when climbing up, we stayed under trees as best we could, and I took a round-about way to the barn that was less out in the open. The ponies didn’t seem nearly as bothered by the booms and flashes as I was (and my thunder-fearing dog). The other mare and foal never joined us, leaving me wondering what that meant for the remainder of the fading light I had available.

In the end, I was thankful for the other pony pair. They had made it to the barn on their own, showing good sense from my perspective. And I really can’t complain about the pair that made me climb because they were cooperative and calm coming down off the hill under those heavy skies. My ponies definitely provide me with plenty of adventure!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2023

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

The Cactus Line

I’ve decided to nickname my bay line of Fell Ponies the Cactus Line.  Followers of my Facebook page will know that since moving to South Dakota, Willowtrail Mountain Honey has on more than one occasion had a cactus bud stuck to the end of her nose.  Then one day her mother Bowthorne Matty had a similar adornment.  I have never seen any of my black Fell Ponies similarly decorated.

Daughter and Mother sporting cactus buds on their noses.

Willowtrail Amber is Honey’s 2023 bay daughter.  I now realize she was showing me there’s something about this line and cactus.  When she was just two days old, she straddled a large cactus and peed on it.  I laughed heartily.

Make me laugh: Willowtrail Amber peeing on cactus at two days old!

But leave it to the matriarch to really take the cake for the Cactus Line.  At the end of August she met me at the barn as she always does, but I could see that she had an odd pattern of color on her body.  When I got closer, I discovered that she had apparently rolled on a cactus because she had ten large cactus buds on one side of her back and flank.  She didn’t seem particularly bothered by them.  I, in contrast, was cursing them for a week.  I made the mistake of using my hands in leather gloves to remove the buds from Matty.  In the process, some of the spines embedded themselves into my gloves without being obvious and it took several days to make my gloves comfortable to wear again.  I later received advice to use pliers, which was very wise advice indeed!  But at least Matty was freed of her spiny display for the Cactus Line!

Matriarch takes the cake for the cactus line!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2023

A Remarkable Thing About Fell Ponies

When I first moved to the Southern Black Hills of South Dakota, I received some very helpful advice. I was told the grasses here are too rich for easy-keeping equines, so I would need to be careful with my ponies. Founder/laminitis was common. My management of my herd during fresh grass season, then, allows twelve hours on/twelve hours off the hill pasture that the ponies call home. One might think the ponies would find this restriction constraining, but they regularly offer me evidence that they are just fine with the arrangement. (continued below picture)

The two pictures here aren’t particularly profound at first glance. They aren’t as stunning as some of the photos I share showing ponies and wildflowers or ponies and stunning views or ponies with me or visitors. Yet these pictures are very meaningful to me. They show two herds of four ponies. One set is on the pasture during the day, and the other set is on the pasture at night. The first picture shows the in-at-night herd eating a little hay before going out. The second picture was taken about ten minutes later, showing the same paddock but with the other herd eating the remains of the hay after coming in. (continued after picture)

The out-at-night herd is almost always at the barn waiting to come in when I arrive there in the morning. The in-at-night herd is almost always at the barn at sunset waiting to come in when I arrive there. Sometimes when there’s been a big weather change or my personal schedule is different than usual, I have to venture out onto the hill to bring a herd in. The first picture shows part of the hill where the herd grazes; it’s a pretty big place! Even then, all that’s required to bring a herd in is haltering a single pony, and the rest of the herd accompanies us on our journey to the barn.

I find it both remarkable and telling about Fell Ponies that an extensively grazing herd like this one is also very amenable to people and our requirements. I have been amongst extensively grazing herds on the fells of Cumbria, and I’ve been around Fell Ponies that are ridden and driven and do other work both over there and over here. It wasn’t until I moved here that I understood it was possible for the same ponies to do both: live out on a hill in a semi-wild state for part of the day and also be in and do things with me for part of the day. Life with these ponies continues to be eye-opening!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2023

My Challenge with The Challenge

I am pleased to have signed up for the Fell Pony Society’s mileage challenge again this year, formally called The Fell Pony Society Queen Elizabeth II Memorial Challenge.  The challenge is 96 miles by October 31 of this year, honoring the length of the late Her Majesty’s life.  I have included four ponies on my ‘team’ this year, three youngstock and a mare.  I anticipate that the vast majority of the mileage will be handwalking the youngstock.

My day started with me thinking that now that foaling season is past and I am recovering from my sleep-deprived state, that I can get back to working on (walking) the Challenge.  But as the morning unfolded, I found myself chuckling about my challenge with The Challenge.

the mare herd stood on a high plateau on the hill watching me feed and clean stalls and spread their hay, with no interest in joining me

It’s the time of year when I run two herds:  mares and foals are out on the hill during the day, and open mares and youngstock are out during the night.  In the evening, I fetch the mares and foals into the foaling sheds.  Sometimes that involves quite a walk, and other nights they put themselves in.  In the morning, sometimes the herd meets me at the barn, and sometimes it’s like it was this time:  they stood on a high plateau on the hill watching me feed and clean stalls and spread their hay, hoping they would come down on their own.  Nope.

Mares with a view!

I enjoyed the climb to bring them in, as pasqueflowers are still blooming, and I take great joy seeing their smiling faces on the hillside.  And of course the view of the ponies on the hill is always breathtaking.  But by the time I brought them in, any thought of walking optional miles was long gone!  I tallied probably a mile all told, but it won’t count, especially since half the mile was just me with no ponies as I was making my way to them.  Good exercise, though, even if it didn’t progress me towards the Challenge goal.  There’s plenty of days left to accumulate miles, so fingers crossed that my challenge with the Challenge will be surmountable!

Together, almost to the barn!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2023

Obviously in the Wrong Place

The east wind was stiff, so I wasn’t terribly surprised that the ponies weren’t at the barn when I got there. The barnyard doesn’t provide good cover on mornings like that. And I wasn’t terribly surprised that they also weren’t out in the open. So when I went out in search of them, my direction was only a guess.

One blessing of my route, though, was that pasqueflowers were pushing their purple heads towards the sky wherever the hillsides were shaded by pine trees. Seeing them made it feel more like spring than the temperature or stunted green grass did. I also felt like they were greeting me with bountiful good wishes as I climbed. It was a rare treat!

I climbed up a ridge, thinking that the hiding place they usually use when there’s an east wind was where they would be. I could tell fairly quickly though that I was in the wrong place. There were no fresh hoofprints in front of me, and no fresh manure in the vicinity. I kept turning around in all directions to see how badly I had misjudged their location, but I couldn’t see them anywhere. Then finally a pony appeared from trees well west of me, and indeed I was in the completely wrong place.

There is a black speck between two distant pine branches. That’s one of the ponies that finally emerged from their hiding place! But of course the pasqueflowers blooming made up for any frustration I might have felt at having been in the completely wrong place!

I headed back down, occasionally looking up from the rocky trail to see another pony and then another emerge from the trees on the hillside ahead of me. The ponies then started running, with manes and tails streaming behind them, always a captivating sight. Then they all disappeared from view, and I made my way back to the barn. I was again not terribly surprised that they had arrived there well ahead of me. I wasn’t bothered, though, for my day had begun with so many visual treats, from pasqueflowers to running ponies, that I greeted the herd enthusiastically once we were all together. Such a blessing to share life with these ponies!

The herd beat me back to the barn, of course!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2023

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

They Came When I Called

My Fell Ponies graze on a very large pasture with almost 400 feet of elevation change. I have been asked occasionally whether I can call my ponies to the barn so I don’t have to undertake the arduous task of walking out to bring them in. My answer to that question is that I don’t call them to the barn for a couple of reasons. First, they have shown that they willingly come to the barn to see me every morning, so I don’t really need to call them in. And second, if they don’t come to the barn, they usually have a good reason, and I’m curious to find out what it is, so the walk to find them is driven by curiosity. However, when the blizzard of the third and fourth of April 2023 hit, when my ponies weren’t at the barn when I arrived, I did attempt to call them in.

I had seen the ponies the night before, half way into the storm. Nearly a foot of wet heavy snow had fallen without wind so had evenly blanketed everything. When I bid the herd good night, I knew we were due for more snow and also that wind was forecast. The next morning it appeared we had about 20” of snow, but the wind had indeed blown, so drifts were up to three feet in places, and a few places had no snow at all. I was late getting to the barn because I was waiting for the ranch roads to be plowed. When I finally got to the barn, a few hours later than normal, I could see the ponies had been there earlier but weren’t there then. When I left Colorado, I gave away my snowshoes, which would have been the ideal tool for going out in search of the ponies. Since I no longer had them, I decided it was best to try to call the herd.

I filled a tub with hay and started spreading it around the paddocks at the barn, calling as I went. I looked out to the hill every few steps but I couldn’t see any ponies emerging from their usual haunts. I went to fill the tub with hay a second time, and as I returned to the paddocks, I saw the ponies coming in. It was quite a sight to see them streaming at speed over and through the deep snow, down into the ravine and then into the paddocks. The hock and knee action that I breed for were on display as the ponies negotiated the results of the blizzard. And now I could indeed say that my ponies came when I called. I was very thankful.

That night I returned to the barn just before dark. It had been an overcast and cold day, so the snow was as deep then as it had been in the morning. I spread hay as before, and I called the ponies. Once again, they came when I called. Often in the evening they don’t come to the barn; when they do I assume it’s because they feel the need for the additional sustenance of some hay. After this major storm, I was more than happy to provide it. And I admit to feeling relief that I could lay my eyes on all of them and be certain they were weathering the situation well. One lifetime with my ponies will definitely not be enough!

To see a video of my ponies coming in when I called, click here.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2023

Fell Ponies and Fossil Cycads

I did my evening pony chores early so I could go on a tour of what was at one time Fossil Cycad National Monument.  The parallels between this lost treasure and Fell Ponies on the fells of Cumbria were hard to miss.

Fossil Cycad National Monument was formed to protect a site here in the Black Hills of South Dakota where fossilized cycadeoids, an extinct order of plants on which dinosaurs once feasted, were commonly found on the surface.  The monument existed in name only, and just between 1922 and 1957, because most of the fossils had been removed from the site prior to the monument’s creation.  So complete was the removal of the fossils that my friends Bruce and Linda Murdock who have ranched adjacent to the monument for nearly fifty years have only once found a fossil cycad on their place.  The monument’s namesake is gone, making the monument unneeded.

Oddly the principal proponent of Fossil Cycad National Monument was also the person who is usually blamed for the monument’s demise.  George Wieland homesteaded the land and donated it to the federal government for the purpose of the monument.  At the same time, he also removed the greatest number of fossils from the site, most of which are now at Yale University’s Peabody Museum where he worked.  When it was widely understood that there were no longer fossil cycads at the monument named for them, the monument was officially deauthorized.

Linda Murdock holding a fossil cycad they found on their ranch adjacent to the former national monument.

I see parallels between the monument that’s missing its namesakes and the fells in Cumbria that are losing their Fell Ponies.  As National Park Service paleontologist Vincent Santucci has written about the ‘case of paleontological resource mismanagement,’ “I get a chance to go out to classrooms … and whenever we talk about [Fossil Cycad National Monument], there's sort of a disbelief that we've actually lost a unit of the National Park Service. We've all sort of been cheated the opportunity to get out and experience and learn about this remarkable resource that at one point stood at the threshold of becoming a national monument. So we need to think hard about ways to promote stewardship and preservation of these nonrenewable resources so that we don't see something like this happen again.” (1)  In the Fell Pony community, some people use similar words about stewardship and preservation of a unique resource when they talk about Fell Ponies on their native fells and the threats to their continued presence there.

On a somewhat humorous note, there is also a terminology parallel between Fell Ponies and fossil cycads.  Sometimes fossil cycads are referred to, incorrectly, as petrified pineapples.  I immediately thought of Fell Ponies being, incorrectly, referred to as mini Friesians.

I am hopeful that there is a sufficient drumbeat in support of Fell Ponies remaining on the fells that those hills won’t lose their namesake ponies the way Fossil Cycad National Monument lost its namesake specimens.  There is such value to being able to view a resource on its native land, rather than in some remote museum or stable.

1. Zimny, Michael.  “Fossil Cycad:  The National Monument That Wasn’t,”  blog post, South Dakota Public Broadcasting, 8/12/20, www.sdpb.org

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2020

For more about Fell Ponies, see my book Fell Ponies: Observations on the Breed, the Breed Standard, and Breeding, available internationally by clicking here or on the book cover.