Chincoteague Island, VA

From a distance, Chincoteague Island looks small and unremarkable, nothing more than a patch of land surrounded by water. It may not seem worth trekking across the causeway linking the seven-mile island to the mainland of Virginia’s Eastern Shore.

But from the mainland, you can’t hear the constant splash and gentle ripples of the Chincoteague Bay and the Atlantic Ocean as they lap at the ground all around you. You can’t hear the hushed whispers of tall marshy grasses brushing against one another.

And you can’t see the magnificent creatures that call the island home: the snowy egrets and black-crowned night herons—and, of course, the Chincoteague ponies.

Chincoteague, currently home to nearly 4,000 residents, is a quiet fishing town where legend and history still thrive.

Today, thousands of tourists annually flock to the town world famous for its oyster beds, clam shoals, and wild ponies—and especially for the annual pony swim and auction in July, when the ponies swim into town where they’re guided to an auction site. Those not sold are taken back to their refuge.

Some 300 years ago ponies arrived on the island, and while mystery has always surrounded their origins, their future in part was tied to two major fires that threatened the town’s existence.

“As a child growing up we were always told that the ponies swam ashore from a shipwrecked Spanish galleon,” says Vicky Thornton, a lifelong resident. “And the wild ponies we have here today are their descendants. That’s what most folks think.”

Today, more than 150 wild ponies live on the Chincoteague Wildlife Refuge, which is actually the Virginia half of Assateague Island. A fence divides Assateague; one side is Maryland, home to another 150 ponies called the Assateague Wild Horses—while the other side is home to Virginia’s Chincoteague ponies.

The National Park Service tends to the Maryland herd, controlling overpopulation with birth control injections. The Chincoteague Volunteer Fire Company owns the Chincoteague ponies, and the annual pony sale keeps their numbers manageable.

It was fire that matched the unlikely pair, man and wild pony. On September 5, 1920, fire destroyed the east side of Chincoteague’s town. And on February 25, 1924, fire destroyed the west side.

In an effort to prevent another such tragedy, a group of Chincoteague men formed the first fire department, and organized an annual pony penning, auction, and fair—to offset the town’s fire losses and buy new equipment.

Since that first auction in 1924, travelers from all over the world have visited the island to buy wild ponies or catch a glimpse of the magnificent beasts standing a sturdy 13 hands high and sporting thick, shaggy hair.

The ponies mean much to the island.

“The ponies make our living,” Vicky Thornton says. “If you’re not a fisherman, then you are working in the tourist business. The tourists come for the ponies, and that’s how we survive today.”

A slow drive through the Chincoteague Wildlife Refuge or a pit stop at the ranger station equipped with binoculars will almost certainly reveal a peek of the wild ponies grazing along the beaches or forest’s edge.

Feeding off salt marsh grass as well as American beach grass, greenbrier stems, bayberry twigs, and seaweed causes the ponies to drink twice as much fresh water as domestic horses, making them appear chubby.

And when food is scarce or harsh temperatures freeze their water source, the volunteer fire department comes to the rescue.

For the last 15 years, Lloyd Belton, volunteer firefighter, and his wife, Naomi, chairman of the pony committee, have worked with the horses.

Naomi says last year’s ponies sold at an average of $2,061.

“The most a pony has ever sold for is $7,500,” she says. “It happens when more than one person falls in love with the same pony.”

Lloyd hikes through the refuge to make sure the horses have feed and water. Young foals born during the winter are kept and cared for on the fire department’s carnival grounds until auction day.

“We take the foals from the mare because the winters can be harsh. They both have a better chance of survival if the mare isn’t nursing her young,” Lloyd says.

He’s at the carnival grounds every day.

“They have to eat seven days a week,” he says. “I go out there and make sure they have feed and water. It’s a lot of work, but I don’t mind it one bit. I love them.”

Maryland-based writer Tracy Leinberger-Leonardi shares her life and love with two wild horses.

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