Native stereotypes
Sweet and fluffy or sharp and athletic, there’s a native pony to suit everyone. The one thing they have in common is they’re chock-full of personality. But can you tame an Exmoor, channel a Connie’s spirit — or ever gain the upper hand over a Shetland? Ma
We take a loving look at some of the most popular native breeds
eXMoor
the stereotype: Porlock Forelock (Frank) doesn’t take kindly to people telling him what to do without an edible incentive. He is refusing to break out of a walk for the
Jolly Jumpers’ bending pole race despite his rider’s wildly flapping limbs. Beneath that soft furry face and mealy muzzle lies a highly intelligent, forthright character — some might say obstreperous — but his primary duty as guardian of Exmoor conservation is grazing, not schmoozing round some infernal gymkhana.
Frank’s short and stocky stature isn’t everyone’s cup of Tetley, but he’s hardy, immensely strong and weatherproof — he never needs a stable or a rug thanks to his own double-layered coat with wax finish. Even his hooded “toad” eyes keep out the rain, and his golden highlights reveal a lifetime en plein air.
They say that if you can work with an Exmoor, you’ll have a friend for life — but not
everyone can. Frank wears his stubbornness as a badge of the resilience shown by his ancestors, who were nearly wiped out in
World War II when used for target practice. Even today, there are only about 500 ponies left on Exmoor, so you’d better be grateful he’s here at all.
The reality: Britain’s oldest breed of native pony — 11.2hh-12.3hh; largely bay, brown or dun and noted for its hardiness and endurance.
Stand by for people asking you: “Is your pony wild?”
HIGHLAND
The stereotype: Glenmorangie Glenda is the Land Rover Series I of the horse world. She chugs along sensibly and reliably through all terrains, and eats an awful lot. Glenda does things in her own time, but come snow, bogs, hail or high water, she will get the job done.
Glenda affectionately reminds her Shetland friends who mock her dumpy physique (“it’s not fat, it’s muscle”) that hers is a breed cherished by royalty. Like that Land Rover, they have class. From Queen Victoria riding them around Balmoral to our present Queen’s penchant for driving, showing and breeding them, the Highland is quite clearly on a par with the thoroughbred.
The reality: a placid workhorse, around 13hh-14.2hh, typically seen in a variety of dun shades with an eel stripe, but little in the way of white markings. One of the largest of the native pony breeds, with substance and strength.
Stand by for people telling you: “They’ll destroy anything they can lean on.”
FELL
The stereotype: Caldbeck Chopin (Chops) is the diamond in the rough on the native pony scene — he’s rugged, muscular, deep-bodied and powerful with a mop of wavy black hair, which ripples on his neck and fetlocks as he goes about his business.
Chops never says no to hard work. Over centuries his breed has ploughed, towed sledges and carried all kinds of loads over the Pennines. His history is all about work; he wants a job and you can trust him to get on with it. Whether it’s conveying The Queen, Riding for the Disabled or carrying a stag down the moor, Chops is up for it. What’s a little light riding and driving to a chap of his capacity?
Sadly, although he’s a proud northerner, there’s no chips and gravy for him; he’s kept on strict rations to maintain his work ethic and effortlessly ground-covering trot.
The reality: black is the predominant colour, with very little in a way of markings. Exceptionally sure-footed and not exceeding 14hh, they make a versatile family pony suited to both riding and driving.
Stand by for people telling you: “Fells stay fat on thin air.”
CONNEMARA
The stereotype: Paddy Power’s previous owner was a wimp who didn’t understand that the only way to jump is like a bolt of lightning. Fast, showy and deadly accurate. Now, paired with Charlie Gung-Ho, Paddy’s found his niche. At five years old (sold as two years older), he knows he’s the class act in the Fleetshire branch of the Pony Club camp. He was twice the price of his ride-mates, he always used to give leads (though no one can keep up) and he’s off to the Pony Club eventing championships next week — though he’s dreading the shampooing sessions to get his grey coat spotless. Who even cares?
Meanwhile, camp’s a blast! He absolutely loves it — all that jumping, what a craic!
Some of the others are hungover by day five, but Paddy skips out of his tarpaulin pen with ridiculous spring in his step — his mates feel quite nauseous.
Next year it will be the pony Europeans and then who knows, he might even emulate his great-uncle Stroller in the Hickstead Derby.
The reality: a top-class performance pony up to 14.2hh, athletic and intelligent with superb jumping ability — but can be sharp.
Stand by for people telling you: “The best pony I ever had was a Connie.”
SHETLAND
The stereotype: Viscountess Scalloway (Scallywag) is exceptionally well bred. Quite why anyone thought she should be demeaned into teaching toddlers to ride is beyond her. She’s having tons of fun proving this, juddering along like a sewing machine at the trot, making it completely impossible for any small child to learn the art of rising. Actually, she far prefers the small people to their parents, who occasionally insist on sitting on her “to teach her a thing or two”. Fat chance.
No one messes with Scallywag. She never bites or kicks — despite the rumours — because she doesn’t need to. She’s a hard-nosed aristocrat in a sweet fluffy body — a formidable mix. She rules the silly big horses on the yard too — in which she is obliged to spend more time than is her wont, due to her expanding midriff and consequent laminitis. But, just like the humans, the silly big horses love her. After Houdini-ing out of her own stable, she lets everyone else out too.
The reality: sweet, strong and small (10.2hh max), with a big personality.
Stand by for people telling you: “Feisty little b **** rs; they always bite and kick.”
WELSH SECTION A
The stereotype: Lili Wen Fach Fondant Fancy (Brownie) is as deliciously sweet as his saccharine show name. With his adorably dished Disney face and big, dark eyes, he’s every small girl’s dream — though the uninformed presume from his delicate stature and fluttering eyelids that he’s a “filly”.
His doting owner, six-year-old Araminta, exacerbates the gender debate by trussing him up head-to-hoof in a fuchsia pink wardrobe, from his fluffy onesie for the stable to his turnout rug trimmed with sky-blue piping. Brownie, of course, would be just as happy naked on Snowdonia, like his forebears, but he adores the attention and amenably trails around the garden, through the sandpit and into the paddling pool, on the end of Araminta’s lead-rope.
Brownie used to be as skittish as a baby deer, but now, at the venerable age of 33, basking in the memories of myriad Horse of the Year Show (HOYS) spotlights, he’s a proper child’s pony. He still can’t come off the lead-rein, mind, it’s in his nature to gallop to the hills.
The reality: diminutive — under 12hh — and dinky, light-boned pony of any colour but coloured. Pretty but sharp; quick learners who love to show off.
Stand by for people asking you: “Does he have some Arab in him?”