Tag Archives: Assateague Island

Celebrating Wildlife Conservation Through the Arts

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Students Invited to Enter Duck Stamp Contest

Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge invites students K-12 attending public, private, or home schools to participate in the 2012 Junior Duck Stamp Design Contest.

“The competition is an art-based educational program that allows students to participate in a nationwide waterfowl arts competition. The process also exposes students to the nation’s wealth of migratory waterfowl and motivates students to take active roles in conserving these species,” said Virginia Junior Duck Stamp Program Coordinator, Aubrey Hall.

Ms. Hall also emphasized that “the program is meant to be a fun journey into the world of waterfowl. The artistic skill level of the students is not the focus of the contest. Not only do we want artwork from all children, we enjoy seeing the variety of pictures that the students produce”.

All students entering the state contest will receive a Certificate of Participation.  Entries may also receive prizes or honorable mention ribbons. The State Best of Show will represent Virginia in the national competition.  National awards include a complimentary trip to the First Day of Duck Stamp Sales Ceremony in Washington, DC and a monetary award.

Participants select a bird from a list of native North American waterfowl.  Other design guidelines include, but are not limited to: a size of 9”x12” not exceeding ¼” in total thickness; horizontal orientation; and the absence of lettering, words, or signatures on the front of the design. For more information contact refuge staff or explore the Federal Duck Stamp website (http://www.fws.gov/juniorduck/).

Entries must be mailed to Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge, P.O. Box 62, Chincoteague, VA 23336 and postmarked by midnight, March 15, 2010.  Judging will occur Friday March 23, 2012.

The mission of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service is working with others to conserve, protect, and enhance fish, wildlife, plants and their habitats for the continuing benefit of the American people.  We are both a leader and trusted partner in fish and wildlife conservation, known for our scientific excellence, stewardship of lands and natural resources, dedicated professionals commitment to public service.  For more information on our work and the people who make it happen, visit www.fws.gov.

Feather Fund Makes Another Dream Come True

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THE BOOMERANG COLT

By Sonora Hannah

I would like to dedicate this, my first published work, to God, my Heavenly Father, and to my mother, Genna, and my Aunt Laure… because without them, this story never could have happened.

“I believe that in the moment God created me, He put in my soul a love and a passion for horses. It is something I was born with… a part of me that has always existed, even before I discovered it was there.”

Sonora Hannah

When I sent my application to the Feather Fund in the spring of 2010, I pretty much felt sick to my stomach. I thought that after I sent it, I’d finally be able to stop thinking about it and get some relief from the rollercoaster of emotions I’d been living with for months. That turned out to be wishful thinking because now that I didn’t have the application to work on, all I had were my thoughts.

 What made the waiting worse was that I had already applied to the Feather Fund the year before and remembered the pain of disappointment that had plagued me when I did not win. I was determined to shield myself from that kind of disappointment so to protect myself, I chose to believe in the improbability of my winning a foal. But despite everything, I kept hoping that the odds of my winning might not be so slim after all. I dreamed night and day about what it would be like to raise and train a wild Chincoteague Pony foal from the windswept island of Assateague.

 I had told the Feather Fund in my essay, “I look at all of the people around me who have their own horses; they have a chance to grow together and become permanently bonded in spirit. Sometimes I wonder if they realize just how blessed they are. My heart aches with the desire to have that strong bond of love, trust, and friendship that comes from having traveled a long road together; my heart yearns to start out on the road that will earn me the love, trust, and friendship of one special horse… my horse.”

Mid-May came… the time when I was to find out if I was or was not going to embark on that road. I checked the Feather Fund’s website daily and I tended to get rather nervous when the phone rang. But no news came either on the website or by phone. I was discouraged, but at the same time hopeful. If no winners had been posted, maybe that still meant I had a chance! Even though I tried to tell myself I very likely would not win a foal, I couldn’t seem to really believe it. There had to be a chance for me, especially because this was the last year I would be eligible to apply because of my age. I tried not to feel defeated by that thought; I knew that if I did not win, that it must mean that God had a different plan in mind for me. I wanted to have the strength of heart to trust Him that His plan was what was best for me, and that is something I had been learning to do since the first time I had applied for a foal. In my essay I had said:

“This whole Feather Fund experience has been a lesson for me in trusting God. I want it SO very badly that there are not enough words in this world to fully express the intensity of my desire. It is a feeling so deep and strong that it can only be felt, not spoken. This I can tell you: If I should be awarded a foal it would be the answer to my heart’s prayer of many years, and I would work for all I’m worth to keep that foal healthy and happy in body, mind, and spirit for all of its life. And in return, that foal would be giving me an ongoing purpose, a reason for working and living with all of my heart, and a chance for healing in my life.

“A foal of my own would mean the WORLD and beyond to me. It would be a priceless gift that I would work hard to ever deserve. I leave you in no doubt, I hope, of the sincerity of my heart’s prayer and desire and I want you to know that I would not take ownership of a foal lightly. I have waited most my whole life for the day that the miracle of my own horse would come. My heart is bursting with love to be given away to the one little horse I may call my own.”

I told Feather Fund board member Lois Szymanki, who is now one of my dearest friends, “The day you called is the day I gave up.”

It was June 7 and I had hung onto hope for several weeks past the time when I had thought the winners would be announced. But that day something inside me snapped. My pet rabbit had gone into labor and we rushed her to the emergency room when it became apparent that she was having trouble. The vet gave me a long list of procedures they might have to perform to save Jane and any unborn babies… and it wasn’t going to be cheap. The only money I had to spend on such a big vet bill was what I had been saving back for my pony. I told the vet we’d do whatever it took to save Jane. What else could I do? I said to my mom, “I’m not getting a pony anyway.”

I was pretty shocked to hear myself admitting to it, but I figured I’d better get used to the fact that it was true… I wasn’t getting a pony.

I was in pretty low spirits when I came home that evening with a stillborn baby bunny to be buried and my dream of winning a Feather Fund foal to be buried with it. I dug a grave and lined it with ferns and other spring greenery and then came up to the house to invite my mother to come for the burial. My mom was squinting at the phone when I came in. She asked me to read the missed call for her, because she couldn’t see it very well. I took the phone and read the name on the screen. My mouth dropped and I looked up at my mom, speechless. Mom says she’ll never forget my face; she knew as soon as she looked at me who the missed caller must have been.

And so it was I went to Chincoteague Island, Virginia for Pony Penning, an event I had only ever dreamed of attending! I saw the wild ponies swim the channel from their home on Assateague Island to Chincoteague Island where the foals would be auctioned off to the public to maintain a healthy number of ponies on the wildlife refuge and to benefit the Chincoteague Volunteer Fire Company who care for the ponies all year round. The days before the swim were spent meeting my new Feather Fund family and searching the pens on Assateague for my top favorite foals to bid on at the auction. I found three I decided to keep in mind, but I really didn’t know which of them my favorite was. I had decided I wanted a filly rather than a colt, so I chose a tall liver chestnut paint filly as my number one to bid on. But nothing really felt definite in my heart, even though I had decided it in my mind.

Auction day arrived. My calm exterior belied the intensity of my nervousness. Joy and relief consumed me when my fellow 2010 Feather Fund winner placed the winning bid on the pony of her dreams. And I realized, it would be my turn next. When the liver chestnut filly I had chosen as my favorite came out into the ring, I felt a flurry of excitement, but something about it didn’t feel real, didn’t feel right. Then it was announced that this foal was to be auctioned off as a buyback, a foal which would be sold for a high price to benefit the fire company or a charity, but would be returned to Assateague Island to live wild for the rest of its days. My Feather Fund family and my mom sympathized with me when the news came over the loudspeakers. But strangely, I didn’t feel much disappointment. Instead I felt that it was a message from God saying that this filly wasn’t the one for me. There must be another one out there with my name on it, I thought.

There were only 57 foals to be sold at the 2010 auction. By foal number 52 I was beginning to fear that I wouldn’t be getting a foal at all. I looked at each foal to come out. I watched their mannerisms; I looked into their eyes, searching for some glimmer of a connection between us. I almost bid once or twice out of fear of not getting the chance to bid at all… but I couldn’t do it. Something felt empty. It felt wrong. None of the foals spoke to my heart; none felt like they could be the pony of my dreams. Then I saw him.

He was rearing, plunging against the weight of the wranglers who held him. He was lost to sight as he dragged them along, trying to escape the prison of their arms and bodies. But I had already recognized him! He was on my list of top favorites, the first of my favorites I had seen since the paint filly early on in the auction.

The flashy pinto markings against his dark red/brown coat made him easy to identify. The boomerang marking at the top of his neck on his right side were why I had dubbed him the Boomerang Colt. Excitement welled up in my heart as he was finally escorted into the ring. Before I knew it I was in a bidding war for him. Somebody else had taken a fancy to him, too. I knew in my heart I couldn’t lose him. This was it! He was the one! I only wondered why I hadn’t seen it before. The price on his head went up and up, but I was encouraged to keep bidding. I raised my feather high and finally stood up in desperation.

“Please!! Please,” I said.

The bidding slowed. Then it stopped. It was the longest few seconds of my life before the auctioneer bellowed, “SOLD!” and pointed to me.

Sold! The Feather Fund had purchased him for me for $2,500!!!

My eyes welled up with tears of joy. In disbelief I realized that my dream had just come true. In one little fleeting moment, my dream had been fulfilled for a lifetime.

Even before the Boomerang Colt had come into sight, Lois had leaned over and said to me, “I don’t know why, but I think you are going to get the Boomerang Colt.”

More than once she said it, saying she didn’t understand why, but she felt that it was so.

I wondered at it, but I was so caught up in the auction and searching over the foals that I didn’t give it too much thought. I kept thinking about the little bay and white foal with the butterfly marking on its rump.

 Interesting story: foal number 52 was this foal, but I did not recognize it. I believe that God shielded me from recognizing it because He knew that if I had, I was feeling so desperate that I very well might have taken the plunge and jumped in on the bidding. How thankful I am that I did not get either one of those foals I had chosen for myself! What God had chosen for me was better than anything I could have imagined or dreamed of. Here’s more proof that the Boomerang Colt is God’s gift to me: one of his flashy pinto markings is in the shape of my profile!! No kidding!

The Boomerang Colt’s name is now Mincaye (Min-KY-yee). People are usually pretty curious as to where that name came from and the significance of it to me. To save time explaining, I usually just tell them it is a name that comes from a tribe in Ecuador. Truth is, there is a lot more to it than that. But that is another story…

Sonora Hannah is a high school graduate with dreams of becoming a writer, artist, and horse trainer. She resides in Washington State where she cares for her menagerie of animals which include a Chincoteague pony, a Shetland sheepdog, and a Bengal-mix cat.

Refuge Staff Goes All Out for ‘A Celebration of Migration’

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By Robert Boswell

Publisher, Wild Pony Tales

This is the time of year when the outstanding work of the biologists and park rangers at the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge and the National Park Service is showcased, helped along of course by the arrival of the snow geese and other migrating waterfowl.

I sometimes worry that the year-long fallout from the alternative beach parking controversy will overshadow all that is good about having the Refuge so close, about having a place we can go where it is quiet and we can, at least for a few hours, give our minds a break.

No matter what our views are on the future of beach parking and refuge management let’s not forget to give credit to the highly qualified and dedicated staff members who keep the place running every day of the year. I do not say this tritely or lightly.

I have taken our writers to Assateague many times to gather information for the stories on this website and I cannot recall an instance when our sources – I mean Lou Hinds, his managers, the biologists and park rangers – were not helpful and knowledgeable. Most of the people at the Refuge have degrees it took them years to obtain.

When I was teaching journalism in middle school I would sometimes have a student working on a class assignment call Amanda Daisy, the wildlife biologist, right from class, a real life interview by a 6th or 7th grader.

On a sad note I want to mention a park ranger who was especially helpful to us, Barry Brookshire. Barry was at the Refuge for 16 months until his contract ran out and then he returned to his home in Texas. But soon after he was found to have a malignant tumor in his colon. Doctors were successful in treating Barry but he has been unable to return to work. While at the Refuge he answered many questions for our young writers with all the patience of the teacher that he once was. At the Refuge Barry was what he called a “roving ranger,” moving around the pathways, talking to people, answering questions. If he didn’t know the answer he would go and find it.

Waterfowl Week is a special time at the Refuge. We have the event highlights in another story but what follows are more details, the times, places and descriptions of the activities coming up over Thanksgiving. Every single event is worth attending.

One of the big issues I have with the whole Assateague show is how easy it is to come here and never see a pony, or see them only at a great distance. When our niece, Marcy, was little I don’t think we got to see any ponies, except the ones at McDonalds for which I was thankful, until her third visit. And she only made it here once a year. We did see plenty of evidence, but few ponies.

A Better Life Now for Rescued Chincoteague Ponies

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By Robert Boswell
Publisher, Wild Pony Tales

The three Chincoteague ponies who were rescued by Debbie Ober and her husband, Tom, from an auction barn in Pennsylvania in September are nearly back to full health. As a result of our stories some donations have come in and so have requests for adoption.

More donations are needed though. See the information at the end of the story.

The moment the three Chincoteague ponies she had rescued from near slaughter came out of the trailer Debbie had sent to get them is not a time she will ever forget. She still can’t talk about it without her voice breaking up.

Saturday, November 5, with our writer/photographers Misty Thornton and Kate White, we traveled the two hours from near Chincoteague to the Ober’s Hawkeye Stables in Ridgely, Maryland. There was more to the story, we knew, of what goes on at the Ober horse farm where Debbie cares for 20 ponies. Some of them are Misty of Chincoteague descendants and most are closely connected to the famous Chincoteague wild ponies.
The three rescues were all bought at the 2001 Chincoteague pony auction but little is known about where they spent their years until now. All three are registered Chincoteague ponies, sired by island stallions.

Debbie had earlier described what confronted her when the rescued ponies arrived at her place. There was Clipper, a small bay gelding, who had no hair from under his jaw to his chin with pus oozing from a dozen sores. When he came out of the trailer he laid down, unable to get up.

Ginger, a big chestnut mare, was very thin and weak from starvation and parasites. And Captain, a bay pinto gelding, was very thin too. He had the worst parasite problem of the three, so bad he had stopped eating.

From communicating with Debbie, we knew they were much better but we didn’t really know what to expect. Because they had all come down with strangles, a pneumonia-like illness the rescue ponies had been quarantined in their own pasture and shelter.

Upon arrival we followed Debbie from the barn area to the rescues’ pasture with her pulling a small wagon with hay, grain buckets, brushes and, if needed, halters.

As we neared the fence she asked, “Are you ready?” In a minute we had climbed through the fence and set up cameras. The ponies, however, were nowhere in sight. But with a call from Debbie, three specks in a distance, actually three pastures away, began moving toward us at a gallop. It was the three rescues, who did not slow up until they reached us.

Two things were obvious. They were ready to eat and they were glad to see Debbie.

Debbie spends several hours each day hugging and caring for her horses. She is devoted to them, spending more time with them than she does with people, more time outside with them, she says, than inside her house.

She has a routine.

“I check all of them daily from head to tail. Making sure there are no kicks, cuts, etc. Also, I make sure they eat their grain in a reasonable time. If they don’t eat, I know I have a problem. I always check noses, especially this time of year. The foals tend to get a runny nose, but unless they run a fever, my vet suggests that I let it run its course without interference to build immunity. I always check halters on the young stock. They can be fine one day and too tight the next as they seem to grow in spurts.”

Imagine this and she left out mucking stalls, driving two hours for hay every few weeks, and of course her house work.

When Captain, Ginger and Clipper arrived they were in poor shape. Debbie spent most of the next three nights with these Chincoteagues, making a bed for herself under the shelter and wrapping up in a horse blanket to stay warm. Debbie changed her clothes several times a day to keep strangles from spreading to her other horses.

Who knows what the three ponies think has happened to them, but they have to know someone now cares. Since coming to the Ober home they have not been a day without proper food, medications, and lots of hugs and kindness. They can thank Debbie and Tom, but also others who helped put up money for their rescue, including Debbie Elliott-Fisk and other members of the Buyback Babes, friends and family.

While our time with the rescues has its special memories, they were not the only ones we brought back from the Ober farm.

One pony rehabilitated by Debbie is the majestic Tornado which has sired many foals born on Assateague Island. Tornado is the sire of Prince, bought by the Buyback Babes in 2007 for $17,500, the most ever paid for a pony at the Chincoteague auction.

In 2008 Tornado was injured while on the Assateague range and the Chincoteague Volunteer Fire Company, which owns the Virginia herd, decided to remove him from the herd and arranged with the Obers to care for him the rest of his life. In an article that ran in the Caroline Review in July 2010 the Obers wrote, “Though he inhabited the sandy beaches of Assateague made famous by “Misty of Chincoteague” Tornado became a legend of his own. He is one of the most photographed stallions on the island.”

Tornado is a buckskin pinto stallion born in 1988. He might have been a wild stallion for 20 years, but around us he was just another friendly head to pat, nose to rub. Or maybe he just wanted Kate to take his picture again. She was clearly his favorite visitor on this day.

The other memory we will have forever was provided by Tornado’s newest offspring, one of four now with the Obers. She is a nine day old filly Debbie calls Freckles due to her red leopard coloring. We have video of this baby making her second trip outside her stall, trying to make up her mind how far to venture. It is precious and we will share it with you soon.

Meanwhile, Debbie is in need of financial help for these rescues and future ones. “We would be grateful for donations to go toward feed and care,” Debbie said. She said if anyone knows of a Chincoteague pony in need, she can be reached at hawkeye@goeaston.net. Her cell is 410-829-3026 and messages may be left on her Facebook page. The mailing address is P.O. Box 125, Ridgely, MD 21660.

The Obers are looking for personal and corporate sponsorships for the ponies and the rescue organization. Corporate sponsors will be listed on the horse trailer and elsewhere, she said. A new website will be chincoteagueponyrescue.org and it is expected to be up and running soon.

The writer is publisher of www.wildponytales.info, a web magazine that covers Chincoteague and Assateague Islands in Virginia. 

Editor’s note: A photo gallery and video clips will be posted with this story soon.
 





A Long Day in the Chincoteague Marsh, But the Ponies Finally Swim

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By Misty Thornton

Editor – Wild Pony Tales

It is the time of the year when children’s eyes mist over. It is the time when the sounds of summer become nays, whinnies, squeals and an occasional snort. It is the annual Swim of the wild ponies across Assateague Channel as thousands settle into the marshy banks and others jockey their boats to get a close-up view as the ponies, heads bobbing, make their way to shore on Chincoteague Island.

For most of the foals the swim means leaving home. They will be sold to the highest bidders the next day and board trailers to go to new homes across the country.

But for now it is time to enjoy the sights and sounds that inspired Marguerite Henry to write her bestseller, “Misty of Chincoteague,” that more than anything else is responsible for the audience that waits in a hot sun on a mucky marsh.

The 2011 Swim on was held July 27. The last week of July every year is pony week, known as Pony Penning, here on Chincoteague Island on the Eastern Shore of Virginia. The Swim this year was well past noon, but eventually umbrellas came down as the ponies came closer and closer with only their heads above the waterline until they splashed ashore. You didn’t have to be down front to know the ponies had reached land. The big crowd reacted with yells, applause and all around excitement that could be heard all the way back to Ridge Road.

But down front no one took their eyes off the ponies even for a second, not wanting to miss a moment that most had come many miles to see. And when the ponies were granted some 45 minutes of rest before heading to the corral at the carnival grounds, when visitors could actually walk up and children could reach out and pet a pony’s head, yes, you could find young eyes that were taking in a moment they would never forget.

 For the Wild Pony Tales staff, swim day means getting up early. A couple of our writers live on the Island and got to make a later start to their day. But for Zackrey Hoverson, Robert Boswell, our publisher, and I Wednesday, swim day, began at 3:45 a.m. After a 20 mile drive, we arrived at 4:50 a.m. at our usual parking lot directly across from Pony Swim Lane. Here, 8 1/2 hours later, the ponies would be guided by the Salt Water Cowboys for a three mile parade onto Ridge Road., then south to Beebe Road and on to Main Street, ending at the carnival grounds. At about 5 a.m. the parking lot owner Tyrone Mason of Mason Oil, opened the gate and took our $10 parking fee. We were first in the lot and got our front row parking spot.

Since we would be a long way from a bathroom, I figured I should try and use one of the portable potties set up for the large crowd.  The portables potties are a few yards away from Pony Swim Lane, but a long way from the waiting area where we will be stationed. However, they have improved over the previous years’ potties even though one of them tended to rock back and forth, not quite being on solid ground.

While waiting in the very early morning, the only things we could see were  headlights from vehicles, shining brightly, and a TV news reporter getting her equipment set up. Soon, Zackrey and I unpacked and repacked everything separately that we needed to take with us across the marsh to the waiting area. Mr. Boswell had made sure we carried water, snacks and the ever important bug spray. On our mucky walk to the water, we planned out everything we had to do from what we’ve done in the previous years.

To get to the main waiting area, we had to travel through muck and marsh, which at times can be up to your knees. When we started across, taking off flip flops and sandals, it wasn’t so bad. There were only two other small family groups that had passed through before us. Besides our snacks and water we carried two tri-pods, a camera bag, chairs, and blankets, making our trip through the marsh a little challenging.

As the earliest people started showing up, before fire company officials arrived, they took one look at the marsh, then decided they had found a better way to get down front. They hauled their coolers full of food and drinks, baby carriages and chairs up on the dock built by the Chincoteague Volunteer Fire Company, a much dryer way to our waiting area. What the visitors didn’t know was that even if they missed sinking up to their knees in smelly muck on their way to the shoreline, they’d have to travel through it on the way back. The dock is for  fire company members and is used mainly for getting people out in emergencies. Once the emergency crews were on the scene no one else was allowed on the dock.

Umbrellas and chairs full of people were all around us within an hour. Having at least a seven hour waiting period before the tide was suppose to slack down enough so that the ponies could swim across, people started rolling out blankets on the wet marshy grass to lay or even sit on. Some even decided to take a nap.

During the wait, those who weren’t grabbing a nap or reading a book, were buying raffle tickets for the first pony to reach the shore, to be crowned either King or Queen Neptune. Proceeds from the tickets go to the Women’s Auxiliary of the fire department.

As noon came many of the sleepers awoke and began to get impatient with the wait. Every other minute or so, another person asked what the time was and when the ponies were going to swim.

A voice over a loudspeaker kept the crown appraised of the coming event. Then the announcer said that the governor of Virginia, Robert McDonald, was to give a speech shortly before the pony swim was to begin. The governor reminded everyone that all of the profits of the whole Pony Penning week went to the Chincoteague Volunteer Fire Company, along with proceeds from the month long carnival that began around the first week of July.

Suddenly the crowd heard the sounds of horses and everyone got up from their seats to see. A few of the Famous Salt Water Cowboys, who round up the ponies each year, were passing through the crowd to get to the resting area for the ponies. “Oohh’s” and “Ahh’s” were all we could hear around us as they watched the cowboys and their horses make sure everything was secure for the ponies now to arrive within the hour.

Soon, a small barge used by cowboys to get their mounts across the channel, came along through the water with about seven Saltwater Cowboys and their horses. Everyone got excited and cameras were snapping photos like crazy.

Well, at around 1: 29 p.m. the Coast Guard finally sent out the red flare from their boat, signaling that the Swim had begun. This is all it took for the crowd to jump up, everyone was pulling down umbrellas, just waiting to see the first ponies in view. As the bobbing heads came into view, some people near us started yelling at a camera crew who had managed to get further to the front and block our view. “Get out the way!” one yelled. “Can you move? We need to see the ponies!” another shouted. Willingly they squished in so that the people behind them could see.

As the swimmers got closer, people started saying  “I can hear them,” and “Look that one’s in the lead for King Neptune.” When they were about 100 yards away, two ponies took the lead. Each determined to get there first. The crowd was cheering and sure enough one of them was crowned King Neptune.

Shortly after the first pony reached the shore, the others piled up behind it, all of them coming in dripping to the delight of their audience. Most of the foals decided to take a lunch break, nudging their mothers to stand still so they could nurse. One little pony was having a hard time getting up onto the resting area grass so the mother nudged it along and up the hill and onto  land. Most of the older ponies used the rest period to munch on the cord grass that is a main part of their diet.

As the rest time ended for the ponies it was time for the “city folks”, to make it back through the marsh. This time the route was the same for everyone, mud up to your knees. But this didn’t seem to slow the conversation about the magic of the Swim still fresh in everyone’s mind.

Not every pony from Assateague had to swim. The ponies and mares that are too young, too old or too pregnant are pulled out by Dr. Charlie Cameron, the official pony vet. They get a trailer ride to the carnival grounds.

As visitors walked up Pony Swim Lane ahead of the ponies they lined up along the streets, to get another look at the famous. Soon the ponies, under cowboy escort,  paraded down Ridge Road to Beebe Road and then onto Main Street. Getting things packed and in our car to leave I heard the sound of galloping. I looked behind me and sure enough a pony had escaped from the formation and decided to circle around into our parking lot, giving several cowboys a little added adventure.  It didn’t last long because they had the little one surrounded and led back to the others leaving the onlookers smiling even more.

Another big crowd awaited the arrival of the ponies at the carnival grounds which ended when they reached the big corral. There they would have plenty of hay and water, and the little ones could nurse and sleep. A big day was coming up, the auction, the last day mothers and foals would be together.