For he's a jolly good Fell

A royal favourite, the hardy and hairy little Fell pony can pull a sledge, emerge alive after weeks in a snowdrift and win hearts with a glance. Julie Harding celebrates the breed society’s 100th anniversary

- Julie Harding

FELL ponies wear their tresses long. A voluminous mane reaches to the shoulder. An elongated forelock can cover eyes and sometimes a whole face. A full tail, often with crimp and kink, almost skims the floor. Feathers add magnitude to lower legs. In the wild, as far removed as it is possible to imagine from the sleek specimens seen in the show ring, ponies are enveloped in dense coats during leafless, desolate winters. In fact, these hirsute equines hail from the exposed fells of the now-defunct counties of Cumberland and Westmorland (modern-day Cumbria), where the numbing wind can gust and rain cascade onto hillsides in torrents, meaning that being wrapped up warm by Mother Nature is de rigueur.

Apparently, during the grim winter of 1947, when gigantic snowdrifts cut off communities, a herd became stranded in a hollow and yet, seven weeks later, emerged alive. This anecdote illustrates the hardiness of these diminutive (up to 14hh) native ponies, which, to the untrained eye, could be confused with their close cousin the Dales. Once two peas in the same breeding pod and, indeed, offspring of the same foundation stallions, Fells are today more pony-like and petite than their equine near neighbours.