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The Fell Pony has it origins in ancient times. Its ancestors arrives in what is now Great Britain back during the ice age, crossing from the mainland by means of an ancient land bridge. Those ancient ponies moved around the Great Britain, eventually settling in the hills surrounding what would eventually become the beautiful Lake District in Cumbria, located in northwestern England. This environment helped shape those ancient ponies into the modern Fell Pony.
The name Fell comes from the Middle English term for hill, which was, not surprisingly, fell. So these ponies are named for the hills upon which they make their home. Today, there are approximately fifteen herds of Fell Ponies running wild in England, and these are far from the only Fell Ponies in existence. Children and even small adults can ride these ponies, but they really excel in combined driving. Their small stature makes them quick and nimble, two qualities that help them pull ahead in the cross-country phase of combined driving.
Standing only 12.2 to 14 hands high, this pony is small but powerful. Most Fell Ponies are black, but bay, brown, and even light grey are acceptable colors. White markings are acceptable, but these are usually confined to socks or a white star on the forehead. Because this pony has existed mostly free of human intervention, it tends to retain its more prehistoric characteristics. This includes a thick mane and tail, feathers on the legs, and a thick undercoat, all designed to help keep water away from the sensitive skin.
Moving with an easy gait, the Fell Pony is a beauty to watch. A concentrated effort is being made to ensure this doesn't change. Though many societies have risen up to protect and preserve this breed, The Fell Pony Society does more than most. It also handles the registration and export of ponies from the United Kingdom.
Of the nine breeds of horse native to Britain, the Exmoor Pony is the oldest and the one least effected by outside breeding. Despite its small stature, the Exmoor was valued by invading Roman armies as a prime chariot horse. This pony is certainly strong enough to pull chariots and other vehicles and is frequently found at driving events around the world today.
Standing only 11.3 to 12.3 hands high, the little Exmoor Pony has a primitive appearance. The eyes are heavily hooded, the coat is doubled to protect against the elements, and all Exmoors have a seventh molar, a trait not seen in most horse breeds. This horse also has a tail that is wider and thicker at the top than normal. Referred to as an ice tail, this protects the pony from the extreme winds of the moors upon which it is bred. The colors of the Exmoor Pony are simple and ancient. You'll find bay, dun, or dull brown, usually with mealy markings on the legs, muzzle, and underbelly.
Today this ancient breed is still bred upon the moors of Britain. It is thought that if the Exmoor is bred in the quiet of a stable, they're lose the ancient characteristics that are prized. Though typically a driving pony, the Exmoor is also used for riding and to keep foliage under control in protected areas of Britain. They conservation and protection of this unique breed is handled by the Exmoor Pony Society.
The end of World War II (WWII) meant that horses were used less on farms throughout Europe. Instead, mechanized farming methods became increasingly popular. This spelled the end of several horse breeds, but also birthed new ones. Farm horses were not necessary, but sport horses were in demand, so two breeds (the Gelderlander and the Groningen) were combined to form an entirely new breed with the best qualities of both.
The resulting horse was named the Dutch Warmblood, mostly because it was bred by the Dutch. This new breed inherited the strong hindquarters of the Groningen, making jumping and collection easier, especially in a sport setting. From the Gelderlander the Dutch Warmblood received beautiful action. This meant this new breed was well suited to dressage. But it wasn't until Thoroughbred blood was added to the breed that the Dutch Warmblood truly came into its own. The horse now had the stamina and speed necessary to truly compete with other breeds often seen at sporting events.
The Dutch Warmblood stands 16 to 17 hands high and horses may be of any solid color. This breed is divided into three basic types. Riding horses are used for dressage and jumping, harness horses are used for carriages and other harness work, and Gelders (the more traditional Dutch horse) are used both under the saddle and in a harness. All of these types are strong, elegant, and possess beautiful action. The studbook for these horses, at least in North America, is managed by KWPN of North America, Inc.
We've had a few horses in our time, but none was as dear to my father as a little filly he named Fox because she was quick and clever. She came from a farm near us and was a sweet little thing who adored my father. She was more like a large dog than a horse, and often wandered around the yard free of both corral and tether. But she wasn't above making a fool of my father when the occasion called for it.
This particular day dawned bright and sunny. It was the end of August in 1992, making Fox a grand six months old. She'd always been a playful filly, which is why my father had chosen her when he could have had any foal from the herd. And she was especially playful on this specific afternoon. My sisters and I watched as she tried to engage my father in a game. He was gardening and kept telling her to stop stepping on his corn.
Even a filly as sweet as Fox eventually loses patience. As we three girls sat in the sand pile watching, Fox started to rip the corn out of the garden.
"Fox!" my father snapped. "Don't touch the corn."
The filly looked at him out of the corner of her eye and tugged another stalk out of the dirt, tossing it playfully across the garden.
At this point, my father was more than just a little annoyed. He stood and grabbed a lead rope. It was apparent to us girls that he was going to put her back in the corral. Fox was having none of it. She pranced away, keeping just out of reach. My father followed her relentlessly. My older sister started laughing at Fox's antics. My younger sister and I soon joined her, laughing until we rolled in the sand.
Almost an hour passed as my father tried to catch the headstrong filly. Eventually, he stopped and burst out laughing. The hilarity of the situation couldn't be denied. Fox, hearing his laughter and knowing all was forgiven, cantered up to him, sliding to a stop less than two feet in front of him. My father tossed up his hands in defeat.
As he did so, Fox reared, pawing at the air mere inches from my dad. Her hooves hit the ground and my father frowned. He raised his arms again and again she reared, whinnying as she did so. A few more repetitions and my father was laughing again.
"Vicky, go get the video camera," he called, throwing his arms up once more.
As the eldest, Vicky knew how to use the camera. She went running off and returned minutes later, video camera slung around her neck and our mother in tow. Fox was still rearing every time my father's arms went above his shoulders.
"Catch it on camera, and quickly," my mother laughed.
Vicky obeyed, readying the camera and holding it up. Once she had both Fox and my father in focus, she waved her arm in the air, letting Dad know that she was ready.
My father smiled and raised his arms. Fox just looked at him. Turning to the camera, my dad shrugged. He tried again. This time, Fox nipped at his sweater. He tossed his arms up a third time and Fox nickered in his face.
Our laughter rolled across the field and Vicky almost dropped the camera in her mirth. My father tried to entice Fox into rearing for another few minutes, then gave up. Vicky shut off the camera and handed it to Mom. As soon as she did so, Fox reared. Dad threw up his hands, she reared again.
We turned the camera back on, but Fox just wouldn't rear, not for the camera. As long as the thing was off, she reared each and every time. My father felt a little foolish, but we all had a great time that sunny afternoon.
To this day, we have the video of my father jumping up and down in front of Fox, trying to get her to rear. We play it for the entire family at gatherings, and when we want to remember our darling Fox, who died several years ago, we always get a chance to laugh.
