Then the yearling was released and turned out into the paddock, where his mother and her foal were awaiting him. The agister would be along shortly, and Skewbald would be on hand for the tail-cutting. This is also a delicate operation, as a pony may launch an unexpected kick. Generally, a large pair of scissors in hand, the cutter quietly draws the lower tail hair towards him with the crook of a stick. In a stable into which a dozen ponies may have been driven, perhaps for the first time in their lives, the agister will venture fearlessly, and cut tail after tail without mishap, trusting to the good sense of the ponies, which will not kick in the confined space, for fear of hurting their fellow-prisoners.
Occasionally, half a dozen commoners will agree to meet on a Saturday afternoon, for the purpose of collecting their ponies. The harness of the ridden ponies varies in style, and is often more homely than elegant. A man may be riding a horse or pony whose accoutrements consist of mere scraps of leather held together by string and rope. The boys of the party ride barebacked, or make an old rug serve as saddle.
Some time may be spent in rounding up the ponies, which, after much hard riding and shouting, are driven into a convenient farmyard, in a bunch of twenty or thirty.
The quiet enclosure, tenanted only by a few pigs and poultry, becomes a place of tumult as the hunted ponies surge in, snorting, neighing, and tossing manes, the pursuers close on their heels to prevent a break-away. In a moment all is life and movement. The poultry and pigs dash hither and thither from beneath the trampling hoofs. The riders jump from their mounts, which with drooping heads stand passive as if glad to rest, strangely contrasting with the restless movements of the wild ponies, which, cowed and bewildered, crowd into a corner, penned up so closely that they have no room to kick, even if they have the inclination; foals wander about, seeking their dams; men and boys, leaning against their steeds, chat with the daughters of the farm, while dogs and children appear as if by magic, the tiniest tot seeming to bear a charmed life. The unwanted ponies are now sorted out, an operation somewhat troublesome and delicate, and given their liberty; the unbranded ones are tied up and marked with their respective owners’ branding-irons.
Then the company takes the farm road, leading the freshly caught ponies. Most of the captives, after a few skirmishes, submit to their fate, and go quietly, but some, more resentful of their treatment and unwelcome bondage, give much trouble, both to their captors and to themselves. They put down their fore-feet stubbornly, refusing to budge, and when prodded by those behind, may fling themselves down, to be dragged along the stony road. An obstinate pony will try sorely the patience of those in charge of it, and instances have occurred of an animal causing its own death by its violent resistance; but, generally, after half a mile of rough treatment, the pony realizes that further opposition is useless, and follows more or less submissively.
XI.—SKEWBALD’S JUMPING
October had been wet. Rain in the forest is, at all times of the year, depressing. When the sun shines on purple heather, emerald fern, and the ruddy stems of fir-trees, moorland and hillside are gay enough, but in wet and stormy weather the landscape is the more gloomy by contrast; the lowering clouds, the black sobbing pines, the pools of water, the soggy tussocks squelching underfoot, make up a dull and cheerless scene, although in the eyes of the forest lover it is perhaps then at its best. The damp atmosphere intensifies the local colour, and gives a sense of vastness and distance to the perspectives.