The primary reason we went to Assateague was to see the wild ponies. More properly, they are feral ponies descended from domestic stock. Legend has it that a Spanish galleon was wrecked and that the ponies swam ashore. Makes a great story. In fact, it is the story told in Marguerite Henry's 1947 novel Misty of Chincoteague that was made into a 1961 movie. A somewhat less romantic explanation is that farmers in the early 1600s let their horses run on the island to avoid the need to build fences. And, perhaps even more important, the need to pay taxes on them.
Left to their own devices, the pony population would long since have outrun the ability of the environment to support them. One solution, as detailed in Misty, is the annual pony roundup on nearby Chincoteague Island the last Wednesday in July. An auction finds homes for most of the ponies and the rest swim back to Chincoteague. (The animals are called Assateague horses in Maryland and Chincoteague ponies in Virginia.) The more recent approach to population control is a contraceptive vaccine delivered by dart gun to a selected number of mares. Somehow I doubt that Marguerite Henry would have written a novel about that.
The island is in a major flyway for migratory birds. The south end is a wildlife refuge.
Not exactly Southern California or Hawaii but surfers still enjoy themselves.
Chincoteague ponies spend a lot of time feeding in the marsh.
Note the hoof-shaped scar on the belly of this stallion. When gathering their mares for breeding, the stallions can become rather obstreperous.
They may be feral but the horses are not shy around people. Which can be dangerous because visitors start to treat them as tame. Which they are not.
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