Fortune and Misfortune

Two bloody spots on my dogs nose confirmed his misfortune and a pony’s good fortune.

Two bloody spots on my dogs nose confirmed his misfortune and a pony’s good fortune.

This story is about the good fortune of a pony and the misfortune of a dog. I didn’t realize the pony’s luck at the time, so I only have a photo of the dog’s end of things.

I was doing my evening chores, including readying the foaling shed for a pregnant mare. I had finished that chore when I saw the mare appear nearby, walking toward me along the fence toward the foaling shed. I was thankful when she put herself in for the night without me fetching a halter and walking to find her and leading her in. I chuckled because her mother had been the same way.

A few minutes later my dogs and I began our trek to the barn to let the mare herd out. My young dog was frisky with the cooler temperatures and kept me laughing with his antics, including running circles around the foaling pen and doing sprints back and forth between my legs. As we headed back along the same path along the fence that the mare had just come in on, he grabbed a bone and trotted along in front of me. Then he dropped it to go investigate something. When he came back to fetch his bone in front of me on the path, he suddenly yelped and sprung four feet into the air and landed behind me. Then I heard a rattle. Two bloody dots on my dog’s nose confirmed he’d just been bitten by a rattlesnake.

Where I lived in Colorado for seventeen years we didn’t have snakes, let alone poisonous ones, so I’m still getting used to living with them here in South Dakota. My education about treating rattlesnake bites in dogs came fifteen months before when the same dog was bit on the face. This spring I had him vaccinated against rattlesnake venom, trusting he wouldn’t need the protection because he had learned from experience that he shouldn’t mess with them. His misfortune was that he had surprised the snake in deep grass and likely hadn’t even seen it while looking for his bone.

The pony’s good fortune was that the snake hadn’t bit her as she came along the same path a few minutes before. Maybe the snake had just arrived there, or maybe the snake felt her coming from the clomp-clomp of her hooves. Whatever the reason, I was extremely grateful for how things turned out, especially since the mare foaled four hours later. I knew the ropes for getting my dog on the road to recovery and didn’t have to learn the routine for an equine. Or for a human for that matter since I was right there, too. After anti-venom and other supporting medications, two days later my dog is acting normally and has just a little remaining swelling.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2021

Midnight Moonlight Greeting

Willowtrail Spring Maiden at dusk a few days before this story took place.  I didn’t even try to take a photo at midnight under moonlight!

Willowtrail Spring Maiden at dusk a few days before this story took place. I didn’t even try to take a photo at midnight under moonlight!

I had been away for three days on a last-minute trip, attending the Celebration of Life of a deceased friend. I returned home just before midnight, and my immediate priority was to take my dogs for a walk. When I stepped outside with them after changing my clothes, I saw that the waning gibbous moon had risen high enough in the sky to light the valley where I live. With hope in my heart, I scanned the hill nearby, and I was elated by what I saw.

As I walked toward the gate and my eyesight became adjusted to the light, I kept scanning the area. Soon I saw that there was not one but a number of ponies nearby, and that they had begun walking toward the gate too. Before long I had exchanged greetings with all but one of my mares and both my youngsters. The missing mare has a habit of being aloof, so when I couldn’t easily find her in the moonlight, I spoke my greeting, knowing I would see her the following morning. I didn’t even think to try to take a picture, so the one here is of an evening pony encounter a few days before.

My trip had been to an urban area that had required an airplane flight. I can count on one hand the number of such trips I’ve taken in the last ten years, so you can imagine how out of my element I felt, not just because I was away from my four-footed friends. Having my feet back on the ground here was a wonderful feeling. Then, that my mares would make themselves visible nearby for my homecoming was like icing on the cake. This life with ponies is amazing!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2021

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

These Two!

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It had been a long day. As I drove the lane on the way to check a newborn calf, I scanned the pony pasture looking for Calista and Mayflower. I was preparing for bringing them in for the night when I got back. When I spied them, they were about a half mile from my house, so I knew a walk was in front of me as light was quickly fading from the day. Imagine my elation, then, when I returned to my house and found that they had run to the waterer at the barn during my absence. This was the fourth evening in a row that these two had made my life so much easier.

The previous night, I had misjudged the weather forecast. Thunder and lightning had begun earlier than I expected, and when I went out to do my last pony chores of the day, occasional rain drops began to fall. The sky was an amazing red color, and with the flashes of lightning, it almost looked like it was on fire. Unfortunately the lightning drew nearer as my chores drug on, so when it was time to fetch Calista and Mayflower, I took a route that avoided ridgetops, hoping I wouldn’t have to walk into the open pasture in search of my girls. What a relief it was, then, when I saw them approaching the barn with their own bodies, like mine, bent against the rain that was beginning to fall in earnest. By the time I got them tucked into the foaling shed for the night, we were all soaked, but we were safe and able to appreciate the brilliant, if electric, show in the sky. The next morning the water in my rain gauge had a reddish tinge to it. I later learned we had had smoke in the atmosphere from a distant wildfire.

The night before that, I had gone out just before dark and didn’t see the girls anywhere. I began calling their names as I walked. After several minutes, I heard thundering hooves and here they came from the far end of the pasture at full speed. As they got closer, I saw that it was Mayflower, the foal, that was in the lead by forty yards. She almost came all the way to me but then veered to follow her mother to the barn. I had been wondering who was responsible for coming when I called, and I think I got my answer that night! Warmed my heart!

The first night in this helpful series, it had been another long, tiring day and I was late getting out to do chores. It was nearly dark when it was time to go find Calista and Mayflower. Imagine my appreciation then when, after fetching a halter, I looked up to see Calista and Mayflower not fifty feet from me heading my way. These two made my day again!

None of the four nights when Calista and Mayflower were so helpful were conducive to picture-taking. I was just intent on getting the girls where they were supposed to be before dark. So the photo here was taken one morning during the string of days when I was feeling so appreciative of these two.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2021

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

Mountain Ponies 2

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When the farrier was out the other day, as usual we had wide ranging conversations as we passed the time while he worked. In addition to updates on his family’s farm and animals, he shared with me his family’s ‘odd hobby’ (his words) of doing historic train holdup reenactments. They dress in period clothes, carry period firearms, have a script that they follow, and shoot blanks to entertain tourists.

I shared with him the current state of my similarly ‘odd hobby’ of breeding Fell Ponies. At the moment, I am quite consumed by the actual work of breeding – putting mares with carefully chosen stallions and making sure they are successfully bred – and he was complimentary about my newest filly who was born a few hours after his last visit here. (He was also impressed with her foot-handling skills at such a young age!) But I also shared with him my current research projects about the Fell Pony breed that help inform my breeding work. One of my current research projects is about the packhorse history of the Lake District in the Fell Pony’s home terrain. We then touched a little on the conformation that I think makes an ideal Fell Pony, one that could do that packing work but also the other work the breed has been asked to perform over its history, including ridden, driving, and draft.

There was a lull in our conversation, and then he said, seemingly out of the blue, “When we were ranching in the mountains, this is just the sort of horse,” pointing at the pony he was trimming, “that we were always wanting.” He then elaborated that it was shorter in stature, stoutly built, sure-footed, hardy, with nice large hooves, and able to pick its feet up to go over rough terrain. I immediately thought back to a similar statement that my late husband had made about the sorts of mounts an old cowboy he knew always rode in the mountains. That cowboy ranched only a handful of miles from where my farrier once ranched, so the similarities were even more apparent to me.

I don’t often run across people who understand the characteristics of a mountain pony and why they are important for the work they do. So it was a thrill during the long tedious chore of attending my farrier to hear his appreciation for my mountain ponies!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2021

Lake District National Park Partnership Management Plan Consultation

Linnel Doublet (“Rusty”) as a pack pony on the bridleway over Burnmoor in the Lake District

Linnel Doublet (“Rusty”) as a pack pony on the bridleway over Burnmoor in the Lake District

The Lake District National Park and its partners including Friends of the Lake District are crafting a new plan to address many changes in the context in which the park is managed, including Brexit and climate change. Until June 23, they are soliciting feedback on their plan via a survey (click here).

As you know if you have followed my work in the past few years, I believe we in the Fell Pony community have opportunities to increase the visibility of our breed and its historic role in the Lake District, thanks especially to the ‘cultural landscape’ category that was used to obtain World Heritage Site designation in 2017. The cultural landscape categorization calls out the role of agriculture and industry in shaping the Lake District we know today. Packhorses (ancestors of our Fell Ponies) were integral for hundreds of years in moving goods around the Lake District before roads and railways. Trackways and packhorse bridges are some of the historic marks on the landscape left by this form of transport. Unfortunately, packhorse history and Fell Ponies were not well integrated into the World Heritage Site plan, so the current revision of the park’s management plan provides us with a new opportunity.

I had three main concerns that were not necessarily easy to express in the survey:

  • The agropastoral and industrial past on which the World Heritage Site is partially based emphasizes farming and mining and woodland industries but rarely mentions how materials were moved about (packhorses in their day) and the routes packhorses used, including trackways and bridges. Also rarely mentioned are the presence of mills (fulling, bobbin, corn) which were serviced by packhorses in their day. I think we in the Fell Pony community need to herald the historic role of packhorses for transport, possibly not only in the ‘Farming, Forestry, and Nature’ section but perhaps also in the Transport section.

  • One of the themes of the new plan is ‘more sustainable transportation,’ and I think if you are interested in bridleways, it would be important to comment, since in the past, foot traffic has seemed to preempt equine traffic in planning circles. The picture here shows Linnel Doublet (“Rusty”) as a pack pony on the bridleway over Burnmoor.

  • While farming is acknowledged as a part of the Lake District, it seems like farming will be important in the future for its ‘nature recovery’ role more than its ability to produce food. I think it’s not only possible but important to emphasize that both are possible at the same time and necessary. It seems to me, though, that ‘nature recovery’ gets top billing by a long way.

There are places in the survey where you are asked if you can help. Please consider what you might be able to do. I let them know about my work to document the packhorse history of the Lake District.

Thank you for your interest in this topic.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2021

Calling to Each Other

Drybarrows Calista and Willowtrail Mayflower keeping me company in the pasture

Drybarrows Calista and Willowtrail Mayflower keeping me company in the pasture

My bedroom is about 100 feet from the foaling shed. I sleep with my window cracked open for fresh air, but of course it also allows for easier entry of sound. At four o’clock in the morning, my Fell Pony mare Calista called to me, which woke me from a sound sleep. It’s very unusual for her to call, so I of course wondered why. A few minutes later I found out why when a coyote howled, and it was closer to my house than Calista is.

I immediately got up and put the dogs out, and they immediately went nuts running about barking and then eventually adding their harmonies to the distant ones of coyotes. The close-by song never returned. After a few more minutes, it was all quiet, so the dogs and I returned to the house.

Later that morning I had put Calista and her foal Mayflower out to pasture. But I realized I needed to check them more closely than I had, so I went looking for them. I knew which direction they had gone, but they weren’t visible anywhere. So I started softly calling. My calling was soft because I wanted Calista to know my intentions were different than my evening calls which communicate ‘Time to come in!’ Having just put her out, I knew she wouldn’t be thrilled with the idea of coming in so soon, so I also starting softly saying I just wanted to check on her.

After less than a minute of walking and softly calling, I was astounded by what happened. She called to me to let me know where she was. She had been hidden from view, and she and Mayflower ran to where I could see them. And it wasn’t just Calista that surprised me. Mayflower actually came running to me, down into a ravine and back up the other side where I was, with her mother in hot pursuit. I checked them both over and told them to have a good day.

I had walked a few dozen yards when I realized I again had company. They had trotted up to me again. I am quite humbled right now by these two. I had no idea that Calista would ever offer me the sort of relationship she has offered since Mayflower was born. It’s not that Calista was ever unfriendly; quite the opposite. Her breeder was right when he said she’d be hard to get rid of, so interested in attention was she as a youngster. What she is offering is something deeper, something that allows us to call to each other, with the high likelihood that the other will respond.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2021

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

One of Those Moments

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It was one of those moments that confirmed that the effort I put into my ponies has rewards. Day after day I do little things, as anyone does in a relationship, to let them know they are heard, their needs are met, and they are cared about. Then they do something to let me know the same.

Just after sundown, I had walked a hundred yards towards where I could see Drybarrows Calista and her foal Willowtrail Mayflower grazing. I was still about one hundred feet from them when I saw my neighbor pull into my driveway. I made a quick calculation as to which of the two parties were most likely to stay put until I reached them, and I turned around and headed towards my house. Not a minute later, as I was looking toward where Bruce was parked, willing him to not drive off before I got to him, I felt and then saw beside me Calista and Mayflower.

I was so incredibly touched that they knew our routine so well. They helped me out by coming to me rather than either staying where they had been or moving off farther away. I continued towards their paddock, which was on the way to my house, with a huge grin on my face. I did eventually put a halter on Calista, so that I could more effectively lead them into their pen.

I have a new appreciation for the depth of our relationship. I feel blessed now each time I am with them. And I look forward to the next of those moments.

© 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.

Temperament, Handlers, and Breeders

A Fell Pony stallion entertaining visitors

A Fell Pony stallion entertaining visitors

I had been watching a video of a horsemanship clinic. As the clinic participants were leading their horses into the ring, one horse stood out for his behavior. He had very busy feet, dancing around his handler, occasionally shying, occasionally pushing into the handler’s space. Often the handler had to stop and turn the horse around them to continue walking where they were supposed to go. A few minutes into the video, the clinician took the lead rope of this horse, and there was an immediate change. The horse’s feet quieted, and over the course of the next half hour, the horse was completely different. Same horse, same place, different person, different behavior.

Later that day, I read a post on Facebook about breeding Fell Ponies, and the author listed their priorities: temperament, soundness, type. I immediately shook my head in disappointment. This wasn’t the first time I had heard a Fell Pony enthusiast put emphasis on temperament like this. Of course, there is no question that we want our ponies to be good-minded. As a user of ponies, we also obviously want soundness. But for the Fell Pony breed, we must have type. It was distressing to see type third in the list.

Then what about that video? When do we judge the temperament of an equine? When the clinician holds the lead rope? Or when the handler does? How a pony’s temperament shows up very much depends on the human they are interacting with. It also depends on the training the pony has had, their age, how they’re being fed, how they’re being housed, the environment they find themselves in and other factors.

Then I looked at that list of priorities from my perspective as a breeder. I have found that rarely do we as breeders get to make such cut-and-dried prioritized decisions. We’re always working with the ponies before us, mixing and matching breeding stock to produce ponies that not only have good temperaments but are also sound and have good type as well as other characteristics that matter to us. It’s not one then the other but all of them together in different combinations in every foal we put on the ground.

Now, after mulling over the video and the Facebook comment, I am grateful for the prioritized list of characteristics. It’s helped me realize that there’s no way anyone can have a prioritized list when one is practicing the art of breeding. Yes, we can choose a temperament we like when we breed, but we also must realize that that same temperament may be a mismatch for a different Fell Pony enthusiast. Matching ponies to people is as much an art as breeding is!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2021

You can find more ponderings about Fell Pony temperaments in my book Fell Ponies: Observations on the Breed, the Breed Standard, and Breeding, available internationally by clicking here or on the book cover.

Eyes in the Back of My Head

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My first horsemanship mentor had three stallions at their facility when I was visiting and helping out there. They also kept my first Fell Pony stallion after I bought him until I felt my horsemanship was up to having a stallion at my place. One of the first rules they shared with me was, “Never turn your back on a stallion.”

I now have my fifth Fell Pony stallion. The relatively mellow nature of our breed means it can be easy to be complacent around stallions, so I try to keep my mentor’s advice in mind. For me, it is often about turning on ‘the eyes in the back of my head’ when I turn my back to a stallion. I raise my awareness of where the pony is and how far from me before I turn my back to them, keeping my senses tuned so that I return my gaze to them if they approach me so I can manage our interaction.

Now that it is spring, there is green grass in my stallion grazing paddock. The gate is at the bottom of the incline that is the stallion paddock, so I walk with my stallion from the top to the bottom. I have taught him to walk calmly beside me with no tack, stopping and starting when I do. Nonetheless, his energy can be high in anticipation of green grass, and because it’s breeding season, mares and mating are on his mind. So I am extra mindful about watching using either the eyes in the front or the back of my head.

At the bottom of the hill, I ask him to stop ten feet from the gate and stand still. If he moves, I ask him to return to where I left him. Then I move to the gate to open it. The eyes in the back of my head get a workout since I turn my back to my stallion to get the gate unlatched. Once I have the gate ready to open, I make sure my stallion is still listening to my direction, only moving toward the grazing paddock when I invite him.

I am always mindful of how quick our ponies can be. A colleague told me a story of entering a paddock where there was a three-year-old colt (‘colt’ because he hadn’t bred any mares yet.) My colleague, like me, headed across the paddock to open another gate and in an instant the colt had jumped on them from behind, knocking them to the ground. My colleague is an excellent horseman and took full responsibility for the accident, knowing that they had turned their back on a stallion without fully activating the eyes in the back of their head.

It was very easy to imagine how this sort of accident could have happened. There’s a reason my first mentor gave her rule about never turning your back on a stallion. My stallion has days where he is especially rambunctious and he finds it challenging to contain himself on our walk down the hill towards the gate to the grazing paddock. On those days he will shoulder into me to try to initiate some sort of game, sometimes trotting in place and then trotting off if he gets the reaction from me he is seeking.

I am thankful that my colleague shared their story about their young stallion jumping them. It has helped me to be more mindful to open the eyes in the back of my head when I am with my stallion.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2021

An Admirable Herd Dynamic?

The first two ponies come into view

The first two ponies come into view

My mare herd extensively grazes on a sizeable pasture on a north-facing side-hill. Despite their free-ranging life, they reliably come into the barn in the morning where I meet them for morning chores. So one morning when they didn’t arrive when I had been at the barn for a half hour, I began to wonder what was keeping them away. Yes, green grass is starting to emerge, and the weather wasn’t snowy as it had been for a few days. Nonetheless, they usually are at least visible from the barn, watching me prepare for their arrival, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Still only two ponies in view, but what a sight!

Still only two ponies in view, but what a sight!

In the eighteen months that we have been here, I have learned where there are places on the hill that the ponies are not visible from the barn. So after the girls didn’t come in, I drove the farm lane to look at the nooks and crannies of the hill that I could see from there. Still no sign of them, so then I walked to one of the herd’s favorite hiding places. When I didn’t find them there, either, I texted my neighbor Bruce to ask if he had seen the ponies during his chores that morning. He had seen them early at the other end of the pasture from where I was, so he came and got me in a vehicle that could handle some mud and we checked a few more hiding places. When we still didn’t find them, we were very puzzled. Then I looked up. Finally, high on the hill against the cloudy sky, I saw the outline of a pony. At least now I knew where I might find the herd.

Another pony comes into view, with Parker Peak, the highest point in our county, behind her.

Another pony comes into view, with Parker Peak, the highest point in our county, behind her.

Bruce dropped me at the barn and I started walking south and up. A hundred feet or more of elevation gain later, I came upon two ponies. I was still missing four, so I kept climbing, and then I made a discovery. There was a grassy shelf that created yet another place on the hill where the ponies aren’t visible from the lower reaches. I found three more ponies there, but I was still missing a pony. Then the puzzle of the missing ponies began to make more sense. The final pony was on the wrong side of the fence, and the herd had apparently stayed close to her rather than come into the barn. I like that! Especially since that mare is about to foal. Of course I don’t know for sure, but if indeed the herd did choose to stay with her, I find that an admirable herd dynamic, and I can easily forgive them for worrying me by their absenteeism.

The stray pony finally on the right side of the fence, seeming to ponder her completed predicament

The stray pony finally on the right side of the fence, seeming to ponder her completed predicament

I got the stray pony onto the proper side of the fence, then haltered the lead mare and started toward the barn. She and I had completely descended the hill before the rest of the herd could be heard making their way down the steep slope and heading to the barn ahead of us.

The view from the barn:  beyond the middle bump is where I found the ponies.

The view from the barn: beyond the middle bump is where I found the ponies.

When I arrived at the barn, the stray mare greeted me. I could imagine her thanking me for righting the previous odd circumstances. Bruce told me that he had seen the same mare on the wrong side of a fence a few days before, but before he could let me know, she had found her way back to where she was supposed to be with the rest of the herd. It is likely the same would have happened this time if I hadn’t intervened. Just the same, I’m glad for the many discoveries I made while searching for the herd. Elk tracks made it clear that fence repair up on the hill is an addition to my to-do list for the summer.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2021

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


Finding a Bit of Hope

The Bybeck herd and its stewards and friends in 2005.

The Bybeck herd and its stewards and friends in 2005.

I am one of those Fell Pony stewards who believes that the breed’s characteristics have been shaped in part by living on the hills from which they take their name. So the upcoming dispersal of the Bybeck and a portion of the Greenholme Fell Pony herds came as disappointing news. These dispersals mean two more herds that have run on the fells of the breed’s native ground are leaving those fells. Tom Lloyd in a recent Fell Pony Podcast said that the sale of these herds represents a loss of 20% of the fell-running mares of our breed.

I learned several years ago about the precarious nature of Fell Ponies continuing to run on the fells. There are numerous reasons for this precariousness, but the most threatening is tremendous pressure from the conservation community to manage the fells differently than they have been managed in the past, which usually means the removal of domesticated animals for all or part of the year.

When I began to become aware of the precarious nature of Fell Ponies continuing to run on the fells, I queried a number of people in our community whose opinions I respect. Many of them seemed to think it is inevitable that there will come a day when Fell Ponies no longer will be seen on the uplands of Cumbria where they have run for centuries.

So when I heard the news about the Bybeck and Greenholme ponies, I was left with a feeling of sad inevitability. Then I heard a couple of interviews with members of The Fell Pony Society Council, and that feeling of sad inevitability grew. Even those people who voluntarily work on behalf of our breed and its society gave me no reason for hope that there is a future for Fell Ponies on their native fells. The reasons are complex and seemingly intractable and at least from my perspective are relatively local.

Since Libby Robinson’s return from France a few years ago, though, she has been working tirelessly for a brighter future for our breed on the fells. Her vision for a Fell Pony Heritage Centre in Cumbria and her advocacy for fell-running Fell Ponies have so far resulted in numerous newspaper articles and video appearances. To my eye at least, the Fell Pony’s visibility in its home region has grown thanks to Libby’s efforts and efforts that she has inspired in others. The Margaret Mead quote came to mind: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.”

My hopefulness for our breed’s future on its home ground has been kept alive by Libby’s efforts and similar ones from others. Then I ran across a story from Cumbria that sparked even a little more hope because, while not about Fell Ponies, it has many similar themes, including a national bureaucracy forcing decisions on local landscapes and citizens who had a different vision for their home terrain.

The story is in Robert Gambles’ book The Story of the Lakeland Dales in the chapter about the Duddon Valley. “Sixty years ago the quiet farmsteads of Black Hall and Cockley Beck were at the centre of a bitter controversy, with the Government on the one hand and the National Trust, the Friends of the Lake District and an influential section of public opinion on the other. In 1935 the Forestry Commission, already unpopular following the insensitive plantations in Thornthwaite and Ennerdale, acquired over seven thousand acres of the Muncaster Estate in the upper valleys of the Duddon and the Esk and proposed to establish there the Hardknott Forest Park. This nefarious plan to submerge these wild uplands under a sea of conifers led to a public outcry notable for its energy, eloquence and polemic and for its total condemnation of the scheme…. An Agreement in 1936 ended all further proposals for afforestation… The Lakeland landscape is no longer under threat from massive regiments of conifers but enriched by a diversity of tree species and a more sensitive approach to forest plantations.” (p. 75)

Victory did not come in a single decision, but the people of this place in Cumbria were successful in sustaining their landscape despite powerful outside forces. Perhaps the same will be true for Fell Ponies and their people, and I am thankful for the local efforts of Libby and other advocates on behalf of our ponies.

Libby has a fundraising campaign underway. If you are interested in supporting her work, click here.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2021

Aimee Wows Me!

It was the day after a heavy spring snowstorm.  The sun was shining brightly, and the thirteen inches of snow we’d received was starting to slide off of the roofs of buildings, as you can see in the photo here.  After I finished preparing the ponies’ feed buckets, I realized that I was going to have to tie the ponies to fences differently than usual because one fence was under overhanging snow, which I didn’t want to calve and hit the pony tied underneath.

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I carefully tied and moved the mares, always mindful that the snow could calve off the roof at any minute, causing them to react.  I distributed feed buckets, though, and the snow that looked ready to calve didn’t.  I untied all the mares, still mindful of where I was relative to the imminently calving snow, and still it stayed up high.

The largest ready-to-calve chunk of snow was right over where I slide hay under a fence before spreading it out.  Eleven-month-old Fell Pony Willowtrail Aimee was standing there when the snow finally came down.  She wowed me with her reaction.  The water-laden snow clunked to the ground not twelve inches from where she was standing, and all she did was hop sideways a foot, then put her head down again to see if she could find any leftover bits of hay.  Talk about unflappable!  She’s going to be one fun pony to explore unknown territory with!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2021

Packhorse History and the Lickle Valley

The ancestors of today’s Fell Ponies are thought to have been used for centuries as pack ponies in the north of England. For instance, there is the oft-quoted story that more than 300 left Kendal weekly taking a wide range of loads to various destinations. The terrain was rugged, and prior to the construction of roads, in addition to leaving market towns like Kendal for other destinations, pack ponies were also the most practical means of getting goods from villages, farms, and quarries to the market towns and industrial centres.

View across the Lickle Valley.  Photo copyright Maggie B. Dickinson

View across the Lickle Valley. Photo copyright Maggie B. Dickinson

Nonetheless, pack ponies in history have often been invisible. Take for instance All Together Archaelogy’s North Pennines Archaelogical Research Framework (NPARF) document, produced in 2019. In the “General Overview” chapter describing the period from 1550 to 1900, pack ponies (also called horses) aren’t mentioned until the eighth paragraph and only then because they were displaced by the railways! Here is an excerpt from the NPARF that mentions the role of pack ponies/horses almost tangentially:

The development of the transport network throughout the North Pennines is closely linked to the lead industry. Prior to the nineteenth century, transporting lead ore from the mine to the smelt mill, and from there to the sea ports on the Tyne or the Tees (from which it was taken by sea to markets, most notably London) was largely done by teams of pack horses. Some of the routes taken over the hills are still followed by rights of way today, and some survive as extensive systems of holloways…. (1)

Titus Thornber, in his book Seen on the Packhorse Tracks, describes holloways as occurring where the surface of a track was not protected so it eroded. “Holloways are possibly the best indication of the use of a route as a packhorse track, and the depth of the holloway is a measure of the importance and age of that route… Holloways are most significantly found today where the laden teams had to surmount hillsides.” (2) Imagine a trail descending a hill with the surface of the trail being below, or hollowed out of, the surrounding ground. (Way back in the day, I had an elementary school teacher named Miss Holloway. At the time I didn’t know the provenance of her name!)

Fortunately for enthusiasts of the working history of our ponies, there are clues in the landscape, such as holloways, that make more visible the early industrial age’s horse power. I am fortunate to have made the acquaintance of Maggie B. Dickinson who has, since the 1970s, been exploring landscapes in northern England for evidence of the old trackways, using clues such as packhorse bridges, packhorse inns, remains of lime kilns, mills, and quarries, and place names calling attention to holloways, gates, and other terms associated with the pack horse trade. (Maggie says that ’gate’ is the Scandinavian term for ‘way’ as in Crossgates, Reddyshore Scout Gate, Limers’ Gate etc.)

lickle valley Page 002 cropped.jpg

Most recently Maggie has shared with me her many discoveries about the Lickle Valley in the southwest part of the Lake District. “This sylvan corner, in the southwestern corner of Lakeland, was formerly categorised as ‘Lancashire north of the Sands’ and has escaped attention by the masses through its hidden location. … The quiet uncluttered leafy roads and lonely footpaths take in historical reminders of another age. They reach back through the mists of time to Monastic Britain in the 12th century, connecting the local holdings of Furness Abbey, some 15 miles to the south.”

Lind End Bridge over the River Lickle.  Copyright Maggie B Dickinson

Lind End Bridge over the River Lickle. Copyright Maggie B Dickinson

One of Maggie’s favorite finds in the Lickle Valley is the Blacksmith’s Arms, a local pub in Broughton Mills whose history stretches back to 1577. “It would be difficult to find many hostelries in Cumbria, or indeed elsewhere, with such charm. The original features are wonderfully preserved and include flagged floors, fashioned from local quarries, old oak paneling and beams, and a major attraction is a seriously intriguing geological feature – a huge rock within the walls which is part of a limestone seam that stretches across the Lake District from Millom.” Across the lane from the Blacksmith’s Arms is a water trough, a feature supporting the connection of this place to packhorse history.

What was once Walk Mill is near the Blacksmith’s Arms. Maggie writes, “The title of Walk Mill, which is not far below the inn, gives a clue to this having been a fulling operation originally, in the days before water was harnessed to drive equipment. The early method of fulling involved the raw wool being soaked in a mixture of water and urine and then trodden after the fashion of grapes being trod. ‘Walking’ was done to cleanse and rid the wool of impurities. Consequently, there is no water supply adjacent, but later fulling mills were operated by waterwheels…”

Underneath Shop Bridge showing seam with original structure to the right.  Copyright Maggie B. Dickinson

Underneath Shop Bridge showing seam with original structure to the right. Copyright Maggie B. Dickinson

Maggie has learned that there are four packhorse bridges within two miles of Broughton Mills. These bridges would have accommodated the pack trade to and from around seven mills in the area, including saw, corn, and bobbin mills in addition to fulling. Access to some of those mills would have been across Shop Bridge which is ‘extended,’ meaning it was increased in width from the packhorse days to allow crossing by wheeled transport.

Above Broughton Mills and beyond Hobkin Ground, a road doubles back to Broughton-in-Furness and passes the former Height House Farm, “a former drovers’ inn and cattle stance,” harkening back to the days when cattle were driven to market.

Crossing the river on a right-of-way is Lind End Bridge. Maggie says, “One commodity of importance in this area, and transported by packhorse, was charcoal needed for smelting iron and lead ores. There is evidence of pitsteads to the north west of Lind End Bridge, which leaps gracefully over the River Lickle in a woodland gorge.” There is also a holloway nearby.

Above Lind End Bridge, Appletree Worth Beck joins the River Lickle. On that beck is Hawk Bridge. In Ernest Hinchliffe’s book A Guide to the Packhorse Bridges of England, the author suggests that this bridge was primarily for local farm use, not commercial packhorse traffic. (3)

Maggie makes the observation that “Several farms in the area of Broughton Mills have a second name – Ground - such as Hobkin, Hartley, Stainton, Carter, Jackson and Stephenson. The latter four are north of the bridges, and Hinchliffe suggests that Hawk Bridge probably only served the ‘Ground’ farms. The term ‘Ground’ shows they belonged originally to the estate of Furness Abbey. For example, Stephenson Ground is in an area originally described as wasteland, being granted by Furness to the Stephenson family in 1509.”

The Lake District National Park World Heritage Site documentation also calls attention to these ‘Grounds.’ “In the south western part of the English Lake District, north of Broughton-in-Furness, is a very distinctive group of farmsteads in the Lickle Valley. Following a formal agreement between the Abbot of Furness and squatters in 1509, a series of permanent steadings was established by carving out small, irregular fields from the monastic commons, and building a basic, humble farmstead or ‘Ground’. Each ground is named after the original family….” (4)

lickle valley Page 004 cropped.jpg

Water Yeat Bridge is below Stephenson Ground and spans the River Lickle. It too has been extended, and Maggie says, “Far from serving only the immediate locality, as Hinchliffe reasoned, the pack teams were likely to have picked up and followed a route that was established in monastic times – from Ravenglass on the coast to Hawkshead village and its surviving courthouse, which were owned by Furness Abbey”.

Maggie continues, “Climbing a very short distance up from the bridge to Stephenson Ground, there is an odd structure that was once a potash kiln, and there is another nearer the farm. It was here that bracken and birch would be burnt to produce potash. This was eventually processed into a soft soap with which sheep wool was cleaned.”

Maggie closes with, “It is important that the historic role of the pack ponies, these intelligent and loyal beasts of burden, becomes more visible in this corner of the Lake District.” Whether carrying bracken and birch, potash, charcoal, wool, or some other commodity, there is plenty of evidence that pack horses/ponies were in use in the Lickle Valley during their era. I greatly appreciate Maggie’s documentation of her findings and her sharing it with me.

Maggie wishes to especially call out the Cumbria Industrial Historical Society for their helpful resources. Their website is: https://www.cumbria-industries.org.uk/cumbria-industrial-history-society/

  1. Frodsham, Paul. North Pennines Archaeological Research Framework Part 1: Resource Assessment, All Together Archaelogy, January 2019, p. 128

  2. Thornber, Titus. Seen on the Packhorse Tracks. South Pennine Packhorse Trails Trust, 2002, p. 33

  3. Hinchliffe, Ernest. A Guide to the Packhorse Bridges of England. Milnthorpe, Cumbria: Cicerone Press, 1994, p. 44

  4. Lake District National Park Partnership, “Description of the English Lake District, Section 2.a,” Nomination of the English Lake District for Inscription on the World Heritage List, p. 104

Fell Ponies in the Pits

“If someone tells you that Fell Ponies weren’t used in the pits, tell them to talk to me,” Joe Langcake once told me . By ‘pits’, Joe of course meant the coal mines of England. Many accounts of Fell Pony history state that Fells didn’t work below ground. Joe knew otherwise.

Joe Langcake and Lunesdale Dylan.  Photo copyright and courtesy Craig Humble

Joe Langcake and Lunesdale Dylan. Photo copyright and courtesy Craig Humble

I knew Joe Langcake of the Restar Fell Pony Stud from 2005 until his death in 2020. In 2006 I spent five days with him studying conformation and movement. But it was only in 2011 that I learned how he’d become involved with Fell Ponies. I’m sure I’d asked the question before, and I’m sure he’d answered, but never in the way he did this particular time. Suddenly a lot of things made more sense. His deep love for and understanding of the breed just didn’t match the time since the first Restar pony was registered in 1992. His remembered conversations with recent legends of the breed like Sarge Noble, Eddie Wilson, Jim Bell, Johnny Little, Harry and Frank Wales, and HRH the Duke of Edinburgh just didn’t match someone who’d only known the breed eight years longer than me.

Between the ages of 8 and 18, Joe spent each summer preparing young ponies for work in the coal mines. Beginning around 1934, Joe and his brother joined other boys at a nearby farm when around 200 Fell Ponies straight from the sales arrived in the yard. “They were nearly all Fells and nearly all geldings; only occasionally were there crosses.” At the time, Fell Ponies were smaller than they are now, from 12 to 12.2hh. “Small ponies made the most money when the pits were buying,” says Joe. “Tebay Campbellton Victor [the well known stallion used by the Heltondale stud] would have made a great pit pony” because of his small but powerful build. Joe remembers seeing ponies from the Heltondale herd at the sales and also seeing Eddie Wilson’s father (Townend) and Johnny Little (Guards) at the sales.

Ponies at Willington station on the way to the pits.  Photo from the book Pit Ponies by John Bright and used with permission

Ponies at Willington station on the way to the pits. Photo from the book Pit Ponies by John Bright and used with permission

Before ‘the back end’ (fall), the boys were responsible for teaching the previously untouched ponies about halters, lead ropes, riding and ultimately the gear they would wear in the tunnels where they pulled tubs of coal. Not all 200 ponies went to the mines; many were sorted out because they were too tall or were not temperamentally fit for the work ahead. “The lads in the pit had little horse experience, so the ponies had to be right,” said Joe. Old Mr. Benson, the manager of the yard, told the boys, “Just treat them with respect.” Instead of giving specific guidance, Mr. Benson told them, “Make a job of it, lads.” No grown-ups were involved in the gentling of the ponies. Sometimes the work with the ponies took precedence over school. And after the boys had to start working on their home farms, they would come in the evenings for three to four hours to work with the ponies. “Even the wildest ponies would come around with time and patience,” said Joe, “We had a lot of time, so patience was possible.”

The yard was equipped with a facsimile of the tub and rail lines that were in the mines. The rail line went down one side of the yard and then into pseudo tunnels. The ponies soon learned not to step over the rails. Then there was also a place where rails crossed, so the boys could teach the ponies to stay on the line they were on. Other obstacles also helped to mimic what the ponies would face underground. When the ponies were well accustomed to pulling the tubs, the boys would ride in the tubs. With some of the ponies, the boys were able to ride bareback without a halter and lead. The boys also accustomed the ponies to wearing the steel hats that protected their heads from low hanging objects or things they couldn’t see in the dark.

When it was time for the ponies to go to the mine – one of two owned by the St. Helens company such as the one at Flimby which was two miles away - five or so ponies were tied head to tail, with a lad riding the first to make the journey. Joe says that once the ponies began working in the pits, they were very quiet and well looked after; “when they came up they looked well. Their coats were shiny. I always expected to see a dirty pony but never did.” The ponies worked eight hours on, eight hours off. The shafts went a mile out under the sea. Three to four men were dedicated to preparing the ponies’ feed; it was made on the surface then taken down the shaft to the ponies. Joe and the other boys would sometimes go down into the pit to see the ponies working; it was amazing to see a full stable underground, much like you would see on the surface.

The ponies would return to the surface at the end of each summer. The boys would sort through the herd to cull out the ones that weren’t doing well in the mines. “Some ponies can’t stand the darkness; they need natural light. They would have rubbed out portions of their coats. Others really took to the work,” said Joe. Sometimes the ponies that didn’t do well underground would go to work in nearby drift mines (accessible by walking in from the surface). They often did well there because they were accustomed to the work but able to spend nights outside and, in the summer, nights on pasture.

Joe and his comrades did the work for fun without any adult supervision. In return, the yard owner would occasionally gift the boys with five shillings or take them to an auction. “I never had one I couldn’t do with,” says Joe. “I came to love Fell Ponies through that work.”

Now I understand where Joe developed his keen ability to assess the temperament of a pony and how he came to have such an easy and natural way with a pony. What an amazing amount of responsibility he and his comrades had at such an early age.

I am grateful to Eddie McDonough and John Bright for their assistance with this story.

Fell Ponies and Water

CHRISTINE ROBINSON'S PONIES IN THE SOLWAY FIRTH AT HIGH TIDE.  COURTESY CHRISTINE ROBINSON

CHRISTINE ROBINSON'S PONIES IN THE SOLWAY FIRTH AT HIGH TIDE. COURTESY CHRISTINE ROBINSON

On an exceptionally high tide in the Solway Firth in the north of England (and south of Scotland), Christine Robinson released her Fell Ponies into the tidelands to see what they would do. Each of them behaved differently, but they all ventured into the water. “The reaction of Fitz View Henrietta, Harthouse Honey and Townend Jasmine to today's high tide was a combination of not bothered and let's play in the water! Henri went in first, but not too deep, then Honey just waded past and started pawing and sloshing the water round. They are crackers! It was heaving it down and blowing a gale, and they had dry ground to stand on but chose to play instead!”

I loved a comment from a fellow Fell Pony enthusiast in reaction to Christine’s photos. “Who needs Koniks?!” Koniks are an imported breed being used for conservation grazing in marshy areas in the homeland of Fell Ponies. While Fells aren’t historically associated with marshland grazing, it’s clear they are amenable to it! And certainly they should be considered whenever conservation grazers in marshland in their homeland are needed.

I personally have never seen a Fell unwilling to cross water. One summer when we lived in Colorado, I saw mine standing in the river running through the pasture much more than in the past. I don’t know if it was the particular herd of ponies I had at the time or something else. Two of the four mares were born there and had been crossing that river their entire lives.

In the 1996 Fell Pony Society Spring Newsletter, there is a photograph of six mounted Fell Ponies belly-deep in water. Liz Whitely wrote, “Swimming has been the highlight of the last two years’ [annual trek to the Breed Show.] Makeshift bridles are made and swimming costumes donned (by the riders!) and in we go. The water last year was wonderfully warm and the ponies really loved it – and it makes their coats so soft. When they’re not swimming they often stand and paw the water making a fantastic splash.” (1)

The most dramatic story I’ve heard about a Fell Pony and water was told about Jonty Wilson and his pony Edenview Moonstroller. “One day in March 1976, Jonty was out driving Edenview Moonstroller hitched to a four wheeled flat cart. When he came to a place called ‘Beck Foot,’ …the old road was blocked, but Jonty surmised that if he crossed the river to the field beyond he could then cut back onto the lane, and thereby join his original route. Stroller went so far into the water and then stopped. Jonty asked him to go on, as he thought that he just did not want to go any further. Stroller stepped forward, as he had been told to do, and in doing so stepped off a ledge into some 16 feet of water… Out of his depth, Stroller swam to the opposite side of the river, and despite plunging at the riverbank, it was far too steep for him to be able to climb out. So Stroller turned and swam back to where he had first entered the river, pulling himself, the cart and Jonty to safety. Even if he had been able to swim, which he couldn’t, Jonty feels that if he had not kept hold of the reins he would have been swept away and besides he had on his thick topcoat and his wool lined wellingtons which were enough to drag him under when wet. Jonty emerged soaked to the skin, and although his whip and the coat he was sitting on were both gone, he still had his cigarette in his mouth!” (2) Stroller was born on the day astronauts first walked on the moon, so perhaps he had good water karma from that momentous moon-day!

  1. Whitley, Liz. Fell Pony Magazine, Spring 1996, p. 23.

  2. Wilson, Jonty. “Stroller Saves Jonty Wilson’s Life,” Fell Pony Society Spring Newsletter 2001, Volume 3, p. 48.

190822 Calista Claire Honey in river.jpg

Packpony History and Furness

The Furness region of Cumbria has always been connected in my mind with the working history of Fell Ponies. Furness Abbey was founded around 1127 AD and dominated the region until the dissolution of the monastic system in the 1540s. The monks there used pack ponies to move raw materials and products. For instance, cloth was moved to fulling mills and iron ore was moved to processing facilities called bloomeries. Fleece and other goods were moved from place to place. Maggie B. Dickinson says in an article about the monasteries that, “Along with the other Cistercian houses of Holm Cultram and Calder, the monks became experts in wool production, and pack teams headed for southern ports to export wool to Europe, including thirty sacks bound for Italy each year.” (1)

The ruins of Furness Abbey in Cumbria.  Copyright and courtesy Maggie B. Dickinson

The ruins of Furness Abbey in Cumbria.  Copyright and courtesy Maggie B. Dickinson

Yet pack pony history in this region did not end with dissolution. It wasn’t until the turnpike roads in 1763 and railways one hundred years later that natural horsepower became obsolete except in the most remote areas. So I’ve learned there’s more to pack pony history in Furness than the monastic period!

Evidence of the pack pony history of this region is like that in other places in Cumbria: scarce. Or perhaps more accurately: one is required to look knowledgeably to see the evidence. My friend Maggie B. Dickinson helped me understand that by looking not only at packhorse bridges and indications of historic tracks/trails but also at establishments of industry in the period, that much remains today to tell the story of the crucial role pack ponies played in their time, if we cast our gaze carefully.

The Furness region is often broken up into the areas Low Furness, High Furness, and the Furness Fells. The region encompassed a significant swath of northwest England, reflecting the dominance of the monasteries in their time. Most of Furness is considered to be outside the Lake District proper, but Low and High Furness had historic and extensive connections with Coniston Water and Windermere and the Furness Fells in between, as well as other places in what is now Lake District National Park. The connection to the Lake District is important from a Fell Pony perspective since the National Park and its World Heritage Site play such a significant role in the landscape of today’s Cumbria. With the World Heritage Site’s focus on the cultural landscape, including the farming and industrial history of Lakeland, documenting our ponies’ role in that history in as many ways as we can benefits our breed. In the context of Furness, pack ponies moved loads between various locations within the region, including into and out of the Lake District, as well as further away. 

Map of the Furness region of Cumbria, showing approximate locations of iron mining pits, fulling mills, and bloomeries.

Map of the Furness region of Cumbria, showing approximate locations of iron mining pits, fulling mills, and bloomeries.

Thank goodness for the popularity of packhorse bridges. Today they are sought out and documented in numerous books and articles, providing an entry point for seeing how pack ponies were integral to the movement of goods and thus to economic life during the packhorse era. Packhorse bridges nearly always can be found on what were important routes between important economic locations at the time.

Bow Bridge at Furness Abbey, a packhorse bridge dating from 1490 AD.   Copyright and courtesy Maggie B. Dickinson

Bow Bridge at Furness Abbey, a packhorse bridge dating from 1490 AD. 
Copyright and courtesy Maggie B. Dickinson

There are two documented pack horse bridges in the Furness region: Bow and Horrace. Horrace is also known as Devil’s Bridge, a name that has additionally been given to packhorse bridges in other parts of England. More packhorse bridges may exist in the Furness region that have not yet been thoroughly documented.

Bow Bridge is located near Furness Abbey in Low Furness. According to Ernest Hinchliffe in his book A Guide to the Packhorse Bridges of England, “The builders used the same red sandstone as for the Abbey…. The bridge crosses Mill Beck which flows through and under the Abbey ruins, and once provided it with both water supply and drainage channel…. That Bow Bridge is contemporary with the Abbey is confirmed by both its location and its appearance.” (2)

Paul Hindle in his book Roads & Tracks of the Lake District, wrote about Furness Abbey, “In a petition from the abbot to Henry IV, the abbey was described as ‘assis en une isle’ (situated on an island), and indeed the usual route to Furness and the rest of England was across the sands of Morecambe Bay.” (3) The abbey had warehouses on the shores of Morecambe Bay to store its wool prior to movement across the treacherous sands (4). (For more about the sands routes, click here.) Slag and iron ore were shipped by water to Lancashire and farther afield (5). Pack ponies, of course, were involved in bringing these materials to the shore’s edge.

Hades Hill Geronimo, a modern day grey Fell Pony stallion (he will turn white with age).  Copyright and courtesy Tom Lloyd

Hades Hill Geronimo, a modern day grey Fell Pony stallion (he will turn white with age).  Copyright and courtesy Tom Lloyd

Cistercian monks, including those at Furness Abbey, were said to prefer white animals, and this preference is often linked to the gray color in the Fell Pony breed. Clive Richardson in his book The Fell Pony cites evidence that prior to the dissolution of the monasteries, only bay, brown, and black Fell Ponies were known. Then after dissolution, grey ponies were also known. Sue Millard, on the Fell Pony Museum website points out that grey equines were not exclusive to the Cistercian community at the time of the dissolution of the monasteries. So while the grey color may have entered the breed around the time of dissolution, there is no definitive evidence that grey Fells came from Cistercian stock.

Thomas West in his 1805 treatise Antiquities of Furness distinguishes between Low and High Furness. (Note that the term villain is used in the following quote in its historic meaning of peasant, farmer, or commoner.) West wrote, “While the villains of Low Furness were thus distributed over the land, and employed in agriculture; those of High Furness were charged with the care of flocks and herds, to protect them from the wolves which lurked in the thickets, and in winter to browze (sic) them with the tender sprouts of hollies and ash.” (6) West equates Low Furness with crops and High Furness with livestock activities. In some sources High Furness and the Furness Fells are equated, but in others they are considered separate. The Lake District National Park and World Heritage Site include the Furness Fells within their boundary but not Low and High Furness.

The Lake District is often described as a pastoral landscape, and certainly West’s description fits this vision of the area, with pastoral referring to the presence of shepherds, pasture, or ‘the simplicity, charm, serenity, or other characteristics generally attributed to rural areas.’ But W.R. Mitchell reminds us in his book Farm Life in the Lakeland Dales that, “The pastoral qualities were off-set by traces of industry. In the woods, smoke rose from bloomeries, where iron ore was being smelted using charcoal as a fuel. Slag heaps testified to the places where copper, lead and silver were being mined.” (7)

One source suggests that it was the clearing of woodlands to produce fuel such as charcoal that opened up so much grazing land for pastoral activities. Windermere Reflections says, “The Furness Fells were primarily utilised in the medieval period for their woodland and iron ore. Substantial areas were cleared of trees to make charcoal, and associated with the woodlands were charcoal burning pits and platforms, as well as bloomeries for smelting the iron. These cleared areas became known as Parks…. These Parks were then used for the grazing of cattle and sheep whilst the wood was re-growing.” (8) Pack ponies were integral to the early industrial activities centered around the bloomeries.

Tom Lloyd's Hades Hill Fell Ponies are recreating our ponies’ historically important role of packing via his business Fell Pony Adventures.  Courtesy and copyright Tom Lloyd

Tom Lloyd's Hades Hill Fell Ponies are recreating our ponies’ historically important role of packing via his business Fell Pony Adventures.  Courtesy and copyright Tom Lloyd

Low Furness was well known for its hematite (iron) deposits, shown as purple dots on the map. High Furness and the Furness Fells were important for their woodlands which were harvested to make charcoal to fuel the bloomeries, shown as orange dots on the map. Because charcoal is light and fragile and therefore difficult to transport in any volume, bloomeries were located near the woods where the charcoal was made, and pack pones were used to move the ore - a denser, easier-to-haul cargo - to the bloomeries.

The Furness Fells were home to many monastic and post-monastic flocks of sheep whose fleeces were important to the wool trade of the region. During the monastic period, the fleeces were packed south to the Abbey. Windermere Reflections says, “By the end of the twelfth century, Furness Abbey held as many as 60,000 sheep, with most of the raw wool exported outside the region. Wool production was in such large quantities that it necessitated the building of warehouses for storing wool and for the improvement of packhorse routes.“ (9)

Then in the post-monastic period, the center of the wool industry shifted. A Lake District National Park World Heritage Site document says, “Hawkshead especially, following the granting of a market charter in 1608, became the main wool market for the Furness Fells, acting as a gathering point before transferring goods onto the larger trading centre at Kendal.” (10) The gathering would of course have been done on the backs of pack ponies. A 2016 article in The Mail expanded on this, saying, “Much of the cloth produced in Furness went to Kendal to be finished and was then taken to the south coast port of Southampton by packhorses and sold under the brand name of "Kendal Greens.’” (11)

Horrace or Devil's Bridge is on a packhorse route between Martin near the iron ore mines and Lowick where there was a bloomery.  This photo was taken in the late 1980s or early 1990s, and the bridge has had some restoration work done since then…

Horrace or Devil's Bridge is on a packhorse route between Martin near the iron ore mines and Lowick where there was a bloomery.  This photo was taken in the late 1980s or early 1990s, and the bridge has had some restoration work done since then.  Copyright and courtesy Maggie B Dickinson

The second packhorse bridge in the Furness region is Horrace or Devil’s Bridge over Rathmoss Beck in High Furness. It is described as a post-monastic bridge on a route likely previously used for monastic trade. It is between Martin near the hematite mines and Lowick where there was a bloomery. Pack ponies, then, carried ore over this bridge in the days when their horsepower was needed.

While wool and iron ore were the primary commodities of the Furness region, a 2018 article in The Mail about Furness Abbey illustrates that there were many other commodities being moved around by pack ponies. The article says, “The monks at Furness Abbey were skilled at making use of water power for a range of industrial processes…. This included corn mills, fulling mills, iron mines, salt pans and a tannery. In the 15th century there were three corn mills on the Furness stream through the abbey site.” (12) Maggie B. Dickinson, in her article about the packhorse bridges of Cumbria, says, “[Bow Bridge] catered for pack teams and small local carts serving the abbey and its water-driven mill, transporting malt, salt, corn and other vital commodities along this busy trade route.” (13)

In Robert Gambles article “Cumbria’s Forgotten Bridges,” he says about pack ponies, “The wealth of a whole region was carried in their panniers.” (14) That was certainly true for Furness, both before and after monastic times.

  1. Dickinson, Maggie B. “Drunk in Charge of a Packhorse,” Cumbria, November 2016, p. 13-17.

  2. Hinchliffe, Ernest. A Guide to the Packhorse Bridges of England. Milnthorpe, Cumbria: Cicerone Press, 1994, p. 42

  3. Hindle, Paul. Roads & Tracks of the Lake District, Cicerone Press, Milnthorpe, Cumbria, 1998, p. 46

  4. Mitchell, W.R. Farm Life in the Lakeland Dales, Dales Country, Settle, North Yorkshire, 2005, p. 19-20

  5. Furness Iron: The Physical Remains of the Iron Industry and Related Woodland Industries of Furness and Southern Lakeland, 2013, p. 38

  6. West, Thomas. Antiquities of Furness. George Ashburner, Ulverston, 1805

  7. Mitchell, p. 20

  8. Windermere Reflections: Fulling Mills in Easedale, Grasmere, Elterwater, Great Langdale, and Graythwaite. Community Archaelogy Survey Report. Oxford Archaelogy North, September 2012, p. 35.

  9. Windermere Reflections, p. 13.

  10. Lake District National Park Partnership, “History and Development, Section 2.b,” Nomination of the English Lake District for Inscription on the World Heritage List, p. 175

  11. “Export trade in medieval woolen cloth,” The Mail, 1/21/2016, www.nwemail.co.uk

  12. “How medieval Furness monks turned the wheels of industry,” The Mail, 4/5/2018, www.nwemail.co.uk

  13. Dickinson, Maggie B. “Bridges of Cumbria County,” Cumbria, September 2010, p. 15-19

  14. Gambles, Robert. “Cumbria’s Forgotten Bridges,” Conserving Lakeland, Winter/Spring 2005, p. 12

The Sands

Living as I do in the middle of the North American continent, over a thousand miles from an ocean shore, it is unlikely I’ll ever ride any of my Fell Ponies on a beach. As a child growing up in Oregon, though, I was fortunate to spend many formative years at the coast where I became intimately aware of tides and waves and sand. When my sister visited me one summer recently, we talked of a beach ride we’d taken at the Oregon Coast many years before when my parents gave into repeated requests for an equine experience. That we both have strong memories of that ride is perhaps evidence that there is something potent about being on equines on sands.

My stewardship of Fell Ponies has led me to a curiosity about packhorse bridges in Cumbria. It is thought that Fell Ponies were used during the time of the packhorse trade to carry goods throughout England, mostly from the Lake District outward. From a study of packhorse bridges I became curious about packhorse routes and subsequently learned about the Sands routes. My childhood experiences at the Oregon Coast caused me to be fascinated and needing to learn more.

Major towns, highways, and sands areas in MoreCambe Bay at the southern tip of Cumbria.  One route across the sands went from either Hest Bank or SilverDale to Kents Bank.  Others crossed the Cartmel and Duddon Sands.

Major towns, highways, and sands areas in MoreCambe Bay at the southern tip of Cumbria.  One route across the sands went from either Hest Bank or SilverDale to Kents Bank.  Others crossed the Cartmel and Duddon Sands.

Fortunately for me, the long-time Queen’s Guide to the Sands, Cedric Robinson, has written a number of books about his experience on the Sands of Morecambe Bay. His stories of this estuary took me back to my time on the Nestucca estuary in Oregon, digging for clams, avoiding quicksand, timing outings relative to the tides, and marveling at phosphorescence.

Estuaries are the tidal area of a river where it meets the sea. The Nestucca estuary of my childhood received both the Little Nestucca and mainstem rivers. Morecambe Bay at the southern edge of Cumbria is fascinating because it receives seven rivers: Kent, Keer, Leven, Crake, Bela, Winster, and Lune. Robinson’s experiences have primarily been in the portion of the Bay where the Kent and Keer enter: first as a fisherman and then as a Guide most often leading walks from Silverdale or Hest Bank to Kents Bank. The map here shows two other Sands areas to the west of the Kent: the Cartmel (also in Morecambe Bay) and the Duddon.

J.D. Marshall in his book Old Lakeland, says about the Cartmel route, “The first recorded crossing was in 1322, but this route was without doubt used in earlier times than that, and continued as the usual route to the area as late as the mid 19th century. It was certainly the shortest route, and usually also the most comfortable, with guides appointed to lead travelers over the safe routes which constantly varied according to the tides and the weather.” (1)

Sign post in Cartmel noting distances over sands routes.    Courtesy and copyright Maggie B. Dickinson

Sign post in Cartmel noting distances over sands routes.
Courtesy and copyright Maggie B. Dickinson

Sands routes were important before the era of railways because transport was accomplished with natural horsepower. At low tide when the Sands are exposed, traversing the Sands could save many miles when traveling from places in the Lake District to markets in Lancashire and points south. The Sands routes were also valued because they were less dusty than heavily traveled roads in the summer time. Guides were necessary who knew the Sands intimately so that travelers wouldn’t become mired in quicksand, would know where to best cross the rivers and would know when was the proper time to set off so as to arrive safely before the tide came back in. Because Morecambe Bay is shallow, the tide recedes nearly nine miles but comes back in quickly when it returns, “with the speed of a good horse.” (2)

A tangential connection of the Sands to Fell Ponies came in 1985. HRH Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, is known to Fell Pony enthusiasts for his driving of HM the Queen’s Fells. In 1985 he drove his Cleveland Bay horses across the Kent sands, guided by Robinson, and accompanied by other carriage drivers. The day before the Royal crossing, the Kent channel moved two miles, revealing why the Queen’s Guide to the Sands is necessary and is an official post.

When Robinson started his fisherman’s career on the Sands, he relied on natural horsepower to carry cockles and shrimp and flukes from the Sands back to shore. Here are some of my favorite stories that he shared in his books:

  • “Many a horse that spent years pulling cabs along Morecambe promenade had a new lease of life on the Sands. A few horses were bought at the old fairs at Brough and Appleby, but you needed to have made every mistake in buying and selling horses to have the confidence to deal in places such as those….” (3)

  • “When cockling, a fisherman did not need his horse for an hour or two. Jack Manning relates that to avoid having a chilled horse, the fisherman would remove it from the shafts, tip up the cart, having regard to the wind direction and stand the horse where it derived shelter from the weather. The animal was provided with a nose bag containing hay. There might be half a ton of cockles on the cart when it was drawn off the Sands.” (4)

  • “The Sand horses truly amazed me on how good they were to work with in the dark. A horse new to the Sands would take a little time to get used to following wheel marks made on the outward journey, but an experienced animal was able to follow them even in the dark. You could even sit in the front of the cart with your back to the horse and he would bring you home.” (5)

The stories I could most relate to were about phosphorescence. My siblings and I experienced this on a few occasions on the beach as children, scuffling our feet in the wet sand of low tide after dark and watching sparks fly. Later I experienced phosphorescence when paddling a sea kayak at night in Puget Sound in Washington. Sparks would spread from where the oar entered the water each time I took a stroke. I marveled at phosphorescence at these times, but how an equine might react seems a different matter. Robinson calls phosphorescence ‘foxfire’ and relates these stories:

  • “Every movement of the horses’ hooves in the water sent up a shower of sparkling drops into the dark night. As the cart in front of me moved out, its wheels threw up a cascade of shining water right in my horse’s path and frightened him so much that I could not control him. He just wanted to get anywhere out of the foxfire and this for me was really frightening. Dad decided to take Banner and I took Daisy, who was a quiet, experienced animal.”

  • “The foxfire had to be seen to be believed. Even when you had hauled in your net and emptied your catch of shrimps into a box, and were running your fingers through them to sort out the seaweed, you didn’t need a torch because they were all aglow.”

  • “These sparks flickered around the spokes of the wheels, the hubs and the nets. We could see the whole shape of the nets glowing with phosphorescence…. I have seen it very few times in my life in spite of all my time on the Sands. Shrimping with a horse and cart, and thus activating the water, showed to the full the true brilliance of the foxfire.” (6)

There is one other modern-day connection between the Sands and Fell Ponies. To supplement his meager income as a fisherman and guide to the Sands, Robinson started a pony-ride business. One of the ponies was a Fell. “Bluey was a very nice Fell Pony, which we bought from a dealer at Shap. Horses were being sold abroad at this time for the meat trade, so we actually saved Bluey’s life and he turned out to be a belter!” (7)

Raisburn Lettie and Anna Bigelow on the coast of Maine.  Courtesy Katie Liscovitz

Raisburn Lettie and Anna Bigelow on the coast of Maine.  Courtesy Katie Liscovitz

Perhaps someday I’ll get to ride a Fell Pony on an ocean beach. And perhaps someday I’ll even get to walk the Sands route with the Queens Guide to the Sands. Even better would be to ride it on a Fell Pony! In the meantime, I’ll view photos of Fell Ponies on beaches - like the one here of Raisburn Lettie with Anna Bigelow - with much deeper appreciation for equines on sands and especially the connection between Fell Ponies and the Sands routes of Cumbria.

  1. Marshall. J. D. Old Lakeland. David & Charles, 1971, per Maggie B. Dickinson email dated 9/23/16.

  2. Robinson, Cedric, and Mitchell, W.R. Life around Morecambe Bay. Clapham via Lancaster, England: Dalesman Books, 1986, p. 7

  3. Robinson and Mitchell, p. 43

  4. Same as #2

  5. Robinson, Cedric. Sandman: The Autobiography of Cedric Robinson, the Queens Guide to the Sands. Great Northern Books, Ltd. Ilkley, England, 2009, p. 48.

  6. Robinson, p. 36

  7. Robinson, p. 130

With thanks to Maggie B. Dickinson for generously sharing her research on packhorse bridges and routes.

Still Too Hot

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It was twenty-five years ago when I first learned of the effect of a particular vitamin supplement pellet. I was raising my first flock of ducklings, and I top-dressed vitamin pellets on their feed. The ducklings soon became hyper active, which is saying something because ducklings are such busy little things normally. I quickly changed to a different vitamin supplement for them and watched them return to their normal level of busyness.

Occasionally I would try the same vitamin pellets on my ponies. The pellets seemed to change their temperaments, too, so I settled on a different product. I recently conducted an experiment with my ponies, returning to the vitamin pellets I had set aside, and I found that despite many changes in the intervening years, they still are too hot for my animals.

The move that my ponies and I made from the high country of Colorado to the Black Hills of South Dakota has been humbling. Generally, we have been exceedingly fortunate to have landed in a wonderful place for all of us. Nonetheless, there have been changes, and since this is the first time that I have moved my pones between quite different locations, I didn’t anticipate them. We have been in our new location for seventeen months, and I wonder how long it will take before I feel like I have their management here as well in hand as I did in Colorado. I am humbled by my frequent discoveries about what I took for granted.

During our first summer here, I was surprised to see my black ponies turning brown. When we were in Colorado, I had learned to supplement them with copper to keep black coats from fading. There, fading coats was a winter phenomenon. In summer, the pasture grasses the ponies consumed seemed to keep their coats shiny and black (on the black ones) without anything special. In the winter, I learned to supplement copper. After a few trials, I found a product that worked ideally for our situation. I was always happy with the shine and color of my ponies’ coats, any month of the year.

We moved to South Dakota in the fall, so the ponies left mature grazing in Colorado and came to mature grazing in South Dakota. Here, we have been fortunate that I can have my mares on pasture most of the year, compared to just a few months when we were in Colorado. All that first winter here, then, they grazed extensively in a large pasture. When summer arrived, it never occurred to me that I would need to change my supplement regime relative to black coats. Summer had always been a time for the ponies to get the nutrients they needed for healthy coats from the pasture grasses. But then my ponies’ black coats started turning brown. I was humbled when someone needed to remind me that I needed to supplement copper. Of course I did! Despite the evidence before my eyes, it hadn’t occurred to me that our minerals here, in the pasture soils and hence the grasses and in the well water the ponies were drinking, were different than in Colorado and could leave my ponies lacking in the copper department. (I had done the research on selenium and didn’t need to make any changes there.)

As I pondered how to get the ponies the copper they so obviously needed, I was told that the vitamin supplement I had set aside so many years before was great at keeping black coats black. Desperate for a solution that made sense in our new place, I decided to give it a try again. Now that I realized the magnitude of the changes the ponies were experiencing nutritionally, I was willing to give the supplement that had been too hot previously another chance. Perhaps it would have a different effect here than where we were before.

Within a few weeks, the ponies’ coats began darkening, and I was elated. Copper is necessary not only for keeping coats black but for the strength of the immune system. While I don’t like to see black coats that fade, my primary concern is overall health, not just color. Seeing the coats blacken, then, meant that my ponies’ immune systems were being better supported, too.

Several weeks passed, and the faded coats of my ponies were a distant and almost forgotten memory. What a relief it was to have my ponies on a good plain of nutrition in our new place. Or so I thought. Several months in, over a week to ten-day period of careful observation, where I ruled out weather and other possible causes, I finally concluded that I was seeing new behavior in my ponies. A few had become mouthier, one had become more aggressive towards other ponies, and another never seemed to be calm like I’ve come to expect Fell Ponies to be when they don’t have reason to be otherwise. Slowly it dawned on me that perhaps the supplement that had once before been too hot might still be. When I replaced it with the vitamin pellet I had used in Colorado, indeed the unwelcome behavior changes began to recede. I was humbled again.

When I mentioned to a Fell Pony colleague recently that I was making changes to my ponies’ vitamins because of behavior changes, they told me they had read that soy can lead to behavior changes. They knew I fed a soy-based energy feed and so wondered if that might be the cause of the behavior changes I was seeing. I don’t think so. I have used that soy-based energy feed for years, including with ducklings, and I didn’t see the hyper-activity that I have now seen so many times with the particular vitamin supplement.

For now, I have reverted to the vitamin and copper supplementation I was using in Colorado to see if it will show me via the ponies’ coats that they are getting the copper they need in our new environment. And I will go forward with the knowledge that we have all made a much bigger change in our lives than I previously realized. Stewarding my ponies is a blessed and humbling experience.

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2021

Found Them!

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Late in the afternoon one day, I ran an errand. While on the ranch lane, I looked out at the pony pasture. My Fell Pony mares were at the base of the hill and starting to ascend, so I noted their location. Then an hour or so later, I went out just before sunset to wish them good night like I usually do.

I walked to where I had seen them, but they weren’t visible. The weather had begun to change, so I figured they had climbed the hill to get in the trees and out of the wind. I did the same, eventually gaining a flat spot about two thirds of the way up where they sometimes hang out but aren’t visible from below. But they weren’t there, and I couldn’t tell if they had been; there wasn’t enough snow to capture their tracks.

I walked to the western edge of the flat spot, and the little snow that I found was undisturbed. Since the ponies didn’t usually go that way and the light was starting to fail, I decided to take my chances heading east which was toward home anyway. After walking for five minutes and not seeing them or any sign of them, I decided to start descending toward home, concluding that greeting my friends wasn’t meant to be that evening.

Part way down the hill, though, my luck changed. I came upon fresh tracks in snow crossing the hill to the east. I followed the trail, and after a few minutes I emerged around a bulge in the hill and saw them back in a protected nook. Apparently when the weather had begun to change, they had moved to this sheltered place. I felt triumphant having found them using my tracking skills, and I admired their choice of location. Such smart ponies!

© Jenifer Morrissey, 2021

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

Burn Moor

Burn Moor lies between the villages of Wasdale Head and Boot in the Lake District National Park in Cumbria. The 5 mile route over Burn Moor has two historic pack horse associations. The first was for trade: moving goods from farm to market and from town to town. The second was as a corpse road. Until the early twentieth century, Wasdale Head didn’t have consecrated ground for burials, so bodies had to be transported to Boot to be interred.

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The route is considered lonely, and there is a sad tale that after the death of someone in Wasdale Head, the body was loaded on a packhorse and taken on its final journey to Boot in Eskdale for burial. The horse and corpse were lost on Burn Moor, never to be found, with the location of the disappearance noted in the guidebook we used on our walk over Burn Moor. The location was approximately where we encountered bogs and watched our Fell Ponies extricate themselves, so I easily came to the conclusion that the horse and corpse in the story were sucked down into a bog, never to emerge again.

Christine Robinson expanded on the tale. She said that a young man had died in Wasdale Head, and the horse carrying his corpse over Burn Moor was lost en route. When the news was relayed to the young man’s mother, she became so upset that she died. When her body was en route over Burn Moor, that horse and corpse were also lost. The horse with the body of the young man was eventually found, but the lost grieving mother haunts the moor still.

Perhaps the most famous modern traveler over the ancient packhorse routes of the Lake District was Bob Orrell who took two Fell Ponies on his Saddle Tramp in the Lake District in the 1970s. He recounts the following corpse road story in his book:

“In the days before Wasdale Head had its own consecrated ground, those unfortunate enough to expire in this remote corner of Cumberland were denied their final rest until the mortal remains had been carried, on horseback, for burial to St. Catherine’s in Eskdale. There are numerous tales told of horses bolting and disappearing into the mist, still carrying the coffin, never to be seen again, but the one I like best concerns a farmer in Wasdale who was plagued by a nagging wife. Blessed relief came one day, when the wife took ill and died. She was quickly put in a coffin and the funeral party set off for Eskdale. Crossing Burnmoor the pony slipped and the coffin bumped against a rowan tree and revived the old wife. There was nothing they could do but troop back to Wasdale, where she made the poor man’s life even more miserable. After a few years she finally passed away, and once more the funeral party set off for Eskdale. The farmer was very careful not to jolt the coffin and, as they neared the rowan tree, he shouted to his son, who was leading the pony, ‘Be careful as thou passes yon tree, Jack. We don’t want any more accidents.’”

There is a pack horse bridge in Boot at the end of today’s walking route.

Christine Robinson and the author in 2015 on Boot Pack Horse Bridge with Linnel Doublet and Hynholme Amber.

Christine Robinson and the author in 2015 on Boot Pack Horse Bridge with Linnel Doublet and Hynholme Amber.