I wasn’t exposed to many ponies as a young rider. Most of what I knew about the little devil creatures was through Norman Thelwell’s books.
Thelwell was a famed British artist who had a knack for depicting rural life. While he also created “serious” art, Thelwell was best known for his cartoon drawings of cute, chubby little Shetland ponies and their equally cute, chubby child riders together getting into various scrapes and adventures.
Having been owner/guardian of several ponies since moving to the farm, I now know how accurate Thelwell’s portrayals of ponies really are.
And my notorious father-and-son team, Rocky and Cricket, spring right from the pages of his books.
Mom and I first met The Ponies, as we call them, about 15 years ago at an odd place on the western end of the Island. I think the original idea at of the facility was to establish an off-grid animal adventure centre or some such thing but (surprisingly?) the business didn’t pan out, so they were offloading a bunch of animals including two black Shetland ponies — Rocky (the dad) and Cricket (the son).
I decided they wouldn’t work for my lesson purposes (buckity buck buck). Yet, we often regretted not bringing them home with us that day, even if just as pets.
A couple of years later, I spotted an ad in the local buy-and-sell newspaper (this was a pre-Kijiji, pre-Facebook Marketplace) for two Shetland ponies to be sold together or separately.
Rocky and Cricket? Yeppers. And, of course, we bought them.
The dastardly duo has been at Get-Away Farm since 2009. They’re equal parts insufferable and adorable.
Of the 140,000 examples I could use to illustrate what absolute pains in the butt they are, here are a few:
Cricket likes being wherever he’s not supposed to be. Electric fences are of little consequence. He’ll run up and down the line waiting for the rhythmic pulse to land on an off beat. Then he scoots under. Even if he does get shocked, he’s so chubby, he probably doesn’t feel it.
He also used to act like a brat during hoof trimming. One time, despite being in cross ties, he deliberately reared so that his front legs landed on Mike the farrier’s back. I don’t know how Mike did it, but in one glorious, agile move he slid from underneath and emerged with one bad (and mad) wee pony’s leg firmly in his grip. Mike didn’t let go until Cricket’s feet ceased flailing and were solidly back on the ground.
They were both used as school ponies when I was still teaching. Rocky was generally a reasonably good boy under saddle – much keener and more workmanlike than his son. (Although with a knowledgeable rider, Cricket’s movement was very fancy.) But, when Rocky decided he’d had enough or just wanted to make things interesting, he’d root … pulling his head down so fast and hard, his little riders would plop off over his head.
One winter’s day, when he was particularly rooty, I hopped on to tune him up. I was the one who got tuned though … right over his head into the snow. Rocky and the kids thought it was pretty funny. (And, honestly, I did too.) Eventually, taking him out for a ride looked like he and the rider were going into battle. He wore a crupper — a strap that runs from the back of the saddle to the tail to prevent the saddle from moving halfway up his neck – as well as grass reins to keep him from pulling from the front end. These measures worked — kind of.
Poor ponies put to work
My students learned when they were tacking up either of the boys, both front and back barn doors needed to be closed. Even now, the ponies like to blast out whenever they find an opportunity — and there’s no stopping them, whether you’re a child or an adult, because they’re so deft at using their body weight. At one fun show here at the farm, a kid forgot to close the front door while untacking Cricket. Pony took off like a bullet out the front door crashing into another unsuspecting child who went flying. Everyone was fine.
Their latest trick is not coming to the barn for supper when called. I have to traipse out to the field (a big one) to suggest to either one or both of them that they should make their way home. Even then, they usually meander up slowly.
We’ve been stepped on, dragged, barged into, pushed, and forced to endure the sound of buckets banging and teeth grating on their stall walls when they want something. We’ve spent countless hours chasing after them when they’ve escaped and worried when we can’t see their roly-poly figures in the field for fear they’ve breached the fencing. At gates, they’ll tag team to push past you and break out.
However, the absolute pleasure I get out of them every day makes the shenanigans worth it. They share my dark sense of humour and like to snicker to themselves. They’re great cuddlers and are crazy cute when they snuggle together over the half-wall separating their stalls.
I can’t wait to hear their high-pitched pony nickers and whinnies and see their snoots emerge when I first enter the barn every morning. Watching them gallop and play is hilarious and delightful, especially when they’re trying to keep up with the bigger horses or when their fat bums run in tandem.
Even when they’re bad, they’re great. I love my Thelwell ponies.
4 thoughts on “Ponies are Perfect Pains in the *#+”
Absolutely loved reading this!!!!
Thank you😊
They’re pretty fun little dudes.
Sounds like they keep you on your toes, Nikki! Never a dull moment with those two! X
They do make life interesting!