All hail our native ponies

The fashion for breeds may change in sport, but who doesn’t share an affection for natives — quirks and all?

HOW cold the heart of any horseman without a fondness for our native breeds. Most British riders owe them a debt simply for providing their introduction to the saddle.

And what a wonderful introduction. You wouldn’t forget Toffee, our local riding school Shetland, unique in his penchant for ham sandwiches and knack for legging it from the standings to the feed barn in under 3.5 seconds. This happened every single time he was led out for a lesson. Such inevitability suggests the occurrence could have been prevented, but no woman, man, or number of them could hold him. And I don’t believe Monty Roberts had really hit the UK in a big way at that point.

Toffee could bob an apple quicker than the sprightliest of children could dismount, and would break in to any lunchbox with the stealth and ease of the most prolific thief.

Even my first pony was a pretty 13.2hh grey New Forest. My riding instructor had previously told me I had to fall off seven times to be

classified as a “good rider”, so I was tickled pink to part company with “Hayley” twice as many times in the first fortnight of our partnership.

Her luxurious and long retirement could well be interrupted in the next few years as my two-year-old son has begun to show an interest — “Thomas ride Hayley Horse?”. This of course assuming the little mare still intends to outlive us all.

No doubt you, too, have stories of charismatic natives past and present — some fonder than others, but all part of our equestrian history.