When I was ten, I was walking the family dog with a friend when I saw what was at the time quite possibly the best thing I'd ever seen. A woman drove past in a small carriage, being pulled by two Shetland ponies who were just adorable fluffy. I just had to know where they were going. We followed her down the road, back to her house and stables, and asked her if we could stay and be with the ponies. We helped clean buckets, gave them a brush and she let us help take them down the road to their field, where the little black pony I was leading promptly pulled the rope straight through my hands and spun and kicked me square on my thigh to leave the most perfect hoof print bruise.
Needless to say, it was love. I limped home to proudly explain to my mother (who was terrified of horses) that we'd met a woman with ponies and I had been kicked, but it was ok as she said we could go back next weekend..... Luckily I had the ladies phone number so that Mum could obviously speak to her before I went but honestly, I think she realised from the look on my face that she didn't really have a lot of choice in the matter.
The shetlands were Smokey, a small black temper tantrum covered in fluff, and Fudget, his bright bay lazy sidekick who enjoyed kicking his heels up as often as he could. My friend favoured Fudget and I favoured Smokey, beginning a lifelong preference for difficult men. After a while my friend decided to stop going whilst I continued, spending most weekends and any spare time I had with them; going to shows and competitions or just spending hours with them in the field. I would drive them both in Windsor Great Park, heading off for the day with a packed lunch to stop and eat by the Long Walk where there was still a water trough for horses. Polo friends, I apologise- if you ever lost your ponies hacking between Guards and Flemish due to a shetland and cart scaring the shit out of them, it was most likely me and these two to blame......
Typical shetlands, I spent more time being kicked, bitten and bolted with than I care to remember. They had a penchant for escaping and grazing the neighbours gardens, and hated being separated from one another- so much so that I once won a 'Best entertainment value' rosette when Smokey spent the entire cones course making a beeline back to Fudget in the car park that it took myself and two adults holding on to him to get round in one piece.
They were infamous- Smokey had a well known party trick of laying down in harness that he would do when bored of waiting at events, causing chaos as people would think he had collapsed. On more than one occasion they would slip their halters and need to be rugby tackled to be caught, far too clever to fall for buckets or treats when more fun could be had evading capture. Fudget taught a friends daughter to ride as we would send her off with him in the park on the tracks whilst we stuck to the road with Smokey in the trap; she could be heard yelling at him to behave from miles away as he tried to spin and buck or turn to get back to his friend.
The pair of them became my friends and confidants, the ones I turned to when my parents divorce got too much, the sympathetic ear when, as an awkward teen, I couldn't relate to the other girls at school and felt immensely alone. They taught me more about handling horses than I could ever give them credit for- mainly the need to show respect, to think quickly and pre-empt every possible situation that those little buggers could get themselves into.
They were a large part of my life- they moved into my mothers back garden when their owner lost her field, came to Christmas Day to entertain young cousins, and when I got a job at 18 working at a wedding yard locally, they were my transport to and from my job- I would drive one in the morning and lead the other, and swap them for the way home in the afternoon. When I graduated University (after a degree in Equine Studies) it was my mother who suggested that rather than the traditional cap, scroll and gown photo most have for that day, that I should have my photo with Smokey and Fudget, as they were the reason for the cap and gown in the first place.
As I grew up, moved away, began working and starting a family, I had less and less time to see them but would always try to pop in when I could. Older and semi retired, they would still happily poodle around with my nephew as a toddler. I had never imagined being able to introduce my own children to them and yet I did, with Smokey tentatively nibbling Tomas's toes on their first meeting.
Smokey was the elder of the two, and passed away a few years ago. Fudget continued on, enjoying retirement and living with his owners other horses. We visited occasionally and he was always pleased of the fuss. When Morena was born I took her to meet him, and he gently gave her kisses in the sunshine. I marvelled at the fact that he was still with us, still going strong, a piece of my history I could share with my children.
When Martin passed away, we were offered a little shetland mare to keep us occupied during covid, to give us a reason to be out and doing something. She moved in with Fudget, much more roan and grey than he was when I first met him, and the two became firm friends, often racing back and forth in the field. The pair of them kept us going at a period of time where it would have been very easy to give up. Tomas began to smile again. Morena busied herself helping with these two ponies that would quite regularly try to trample me but would be as still as rocks for the tiny little girl chattering away at them.
The mare went back to her owner in 2022, and Fudget remained. This year his age began to catch up with him and sadly, yesterday evening, he went to join his partner in crime Smokey across the rainbow bridge. Receiving the news at dinner, my heart broke just a tiny bit more. Those ponies meant more to me than I could ever say. I've worked with and loved a great number of horses over the years, all of them special in their own way. But Smokey and Fudget were the ones that started it all. They are the reason I turned to a career in horses, a path that has led me around the world to a great number of friends and loved ones I would have never met otherwise. They came into my life at a time when I needed them, a lesson wrapped in a kind eye and a soft muzzle. They taught me confidence, strength, patience, and I will forever be grateful to them- and their owner, who allowed this scrawny little girl into her life and the lives of her animals- for playing such a pivotal role in the person that I am today.
I like to think that they are together again, causing mischief. That one day I will see them again and be greeted by that high whinny of Smokeys, Fudgets deep stallion bray. I will bring them carrots, and sit in the field as they graze around me, stopping occasionally to enjoy a scratch on the withers and kisses to those sweet cheeky faces. It will be peaceful, and we will be content....... Until then, I will remember them as they were- tenacious and wild, strong little characters that never gave up, and even when they frustrated and drove people crazy they would also never to also make someone smile. That's the sort of energy I want to carry with me. Shetland energy. May we all be more Shetland pony.
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