Go Wild! Travel Exclusive: Running Wild with the Ponies of Chincoteague
Stay tuned for tomorrow's photo study of the wildlife of Chincoteague.
By David Wheeler, WildNewJersey.tv
Our kayak paddles dip rhythmically into the bay, breaking the glistening surface in alternating splashes. A snowy egret, its feathery white plume fluttering in the breeze, scans the surface along the tidal marsh, ignoring our approaching kayaks. Above, the brazen calls of a laughing gull drown out the spiraling song of a marsh wren. The egret finally takes wing, flying before the majestic, timeworn lighthouse rising above the maritime forest beyond the reeds.
“There they are!”
They are wild ponies. Beyond the mudflats, wild horses graze on the meadow grasses, their manes blowing and tails kicking up lazily. This is the best place on the Eastern seaboard to experience this scene: the barrier island coast of Chincoteague and Assateague, along the Atlantic coast of Maryland and Virginia.
A cattle egret stands next to a wild pony.
And what a breathtaking scene it is. The Assateague Lighthouse, in weathered bands of red and white, rises above 14,000 acres of saltmarsh, forest, and beaches that make up the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge, with another 48,000 acres of Assateague Island National Seashore just to the north.
I visited Chincoteague with my family after nearly a decade away. If anything, the relentless dual march of time and sprawl in the northeast highlights even more pointedly why Chincoteague is so special. For nature lovers like me, the aptly named Wildlife Loop lives up to its billing. U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service personnel manage the refuge to host both saltwater and freshwater systems, maximizing habitat for the food chain. As a result, dozens of egrets, herons, ibis, and shorebirds seem to dot every mudflat, marshy island, pond and streambank.
To my children’s delight, we twice see a red fox trotting along a forest-edge trail near the road. I help protect a snapping turtle by moving it off of the road, very carefully – this dinosaur-like predator can take off a finger with its powerful bite. And in the dimming light of dusk, we watch a black skimmer—its lower beak extending far forward like a pointed shovel—fly graceful figure-eights to “skim” fish from just under the surface.
Lucky visitors might encounter peregrine falcons, bald eagles, and sika deer, a small elk species with attractive white spots that was imported from Asia long ago and is now a permanent resident of the refuge. Most surprisingly, the short walk to the lighthouse, over a sandy trail through a pine thicket, yields a smorgasbord of wildlife. A rough green snake – brightly lime-colored, rare, and maybe two feet long – is stunning in its beauty and unexpectedness. On the walk back, a five-foot long black rat snake powers across the trail ahead of us—no doubt in search of the Fowlers toad and Eastern cottontail rabbit we also encounter on this brief walk. Oh, I almost forgot – the lighthouse views are as awe-inspiring and expansive as you could hope.
View from the Assateague Lighthouse.
But the wild ponies are undoubtedly the “mane attraction.”
“These horses are very adaptive creatures, able to handle an environment with lots of salt,” says Rachelle Daigneault, Chief of Interpretation and Education at Assateague Island National Seashore. “They eat cordgrass and salt meadow hay, they even eat poison ivy. But they consume a lot of salt, so they have to drink at least twice as much water as, say, a domestic horse.”
Legends abound about their arrival on these barrier islands over 300 years ago. The common explanation is that the horses were turned loose on the islands by colonists looking to avoid paying taxes. But the more dramatic tale is that these ponies descend from the survivors of a long-ago shipwreck. After all, shipwrecks and pirate treasures color the Chincoteague island culture. That vibe embraces both the horse-centric and the maritime, wrapping it all in the classic islanders’ relaxed pace and old-time feel.
When we first arrive at Chincoteague, it is an hour after sunset. The long drive over the causeways and bridges – with only moonlight reflecting off of the water surface on either side of the road – make it abundantly clear that we are now in an island world. The mainland has been left behind, and with it, the hectic pace and hustle-and-bustle of modern life in the northeast. The top commercial attractions are ice cream parlors and an old-fashioned movie theater. After a drive through seemingly endless fast food franchises on the mainland highways, it is a pleasure to find Chincoteague has very few chain restaurants or stores.
The vibrant island culture of Chincoteague is hard to miss.
The roads, too, run at their own pace, with low speed limits and plentiful bike paths. In fact, no cars are allowed on the refuge’s Wildlife Loop before 3 PM. The road belongs to bicyclists, hikers and wildlife alone—unless you are going to the beach.
Our beach day is sandcastles, swimming and ball playing under a cloudless blue sky – yet even this beach bumming has a wild side at Chincoteague. Pods of bottlenose dolphins swim past beyond the gently breaking waves. An American oystercatcher appears cartoon-like with its all-black head, red-rimmed eyes and long orange beak. And the endangered piping plover nests on the bay side of this thin strip of beach, its nesting areas fenced off for extra protection.
The short boardwalk trail at the nearby Toms Cove Nature Center offers dozens of tiny fiddler crabs emerging from their sand holes and dueling with their unwieldy claws. Inside, friendly staff and a touch tank introduce us to some of the sea’s bounty – allowing fearless two-year old William to hold the prehistoric horseshoe crab and meet the conch, its thick, boneless body packed into the exquisitely sculpted shell.
A stream of water suddenly shoots out from a clam that he picks up from the touch tank. It is a new way to meet the real animal that lives inside those empty shells so often found while beachcombing.
“The clams and oysters are assuming a predatory situation, so they are closing up and sealing themselves inside to protect themselves,” says Daigneault. “Raccoons dig up clams and mussels, oystercatchers use their bills to eat them, gulls drop them on the rocks, a sea star pulls them open. Everyone wants to eat a clam dinner.”
As you might expect, seafood restaurants dominate Chincoteague’s cuisine, and waterfront dining with fresh catches is the rule. (Fortunately, for picky eaters, most of the restaurants offer non-seafood choices as well, especially on their children’s menus.)
Locals swear by Mr. Baldy’s, a warm and friendly establishment near the southern end of the island that lives up to its reputation. On our final night’s dinner at Etta’s Channel Side, I enjoy a succulent flounder stuffed with crab imperial, watching the sun set slowly over the refuge. And in general, prices are surprisingly affordable at most of Chincoteague’s eateries.
But sea life is even better away from the dinner plate. A steady stream of fishing boats, wildlife cruises, crabbers, and clam diggers use the waters around the islands. Seven-year old Kayla, with just a simple net from our dock, discovers a new passion. She spends hours on her young version of catch-and-release, netting minnows, crabs, and shrimp before immediately getting them back into the water.
Indeed, our home base on the eastern end of the island – a week-long stay courtesy of a family friend – seems to bring the wildlife refuge right to our doorstep. A green heron mans the edges of the backyard canal, while terns dive-bomb straight into the surface, ascending again with small fish in their beaks. Evenings echo with otherworldly calls of a half-feral peacock colony a few blocks away, resounding through the night like a bizarre combination of wildcat shriek and something out of Jurassic Park. The next yard over hosts an endangered species – the Delmarva fox squirrel, whose all-black coat and slightly larger frame transforms the routine creature into something special.
More of Chincoteague's vibrant culture.
Each bike ride scarcely goes a block without a new encounter. Diamondback terrapins cross yards and streets in search of places to lay their eggs. The beaver-like muskrat nibbles on plants along a road before diving back into the safety of a waterway. And the remarkable glossy ibis – with a scythe-shaped beak that brings to mind its honored relatives from ancient Egypt – wades through marshes in search of fiddler crabs.
But let’s face it. For Chincoteague, and its visitors, it all comes back to the ponies. This July 28 - the date is always the last Wednesday of July - the ponies on the Virginia side of the state line are rounded up and swum across Assateague Channel. (Ponies on the Maryland side run free year round.)
This annual Virginia “pony penning” helps the Chincoteague Volunteer Fire Department auction off many foals to care for the herd and protect the habitat from overgrazing. Marguerite Henry’s classic children’s book, Misty of Chincoteague, featured this traditional event. The story took place at the island’s Beebe Ranch, which is open to visitors, and the book is a favorite purchase for many visitors—my daughter included.
Wishing to meet these famed ponies on horseback, Kayla and William enjoy pony rides at the Chincoteague Pony Centre. The rides are inexpensive, but these painted ponies are such beautiful creatures that the ensuing visit to the enjoyable gift shop is almost guaranteed to add anything from quarter-priced pony postcards, to $7 Misty books, to a wide variety of pony-themed toys and clothing.
A youngster at the Chincoteague Pony Centre.
The American fascination with horses and ponies has been a childhood rite of passage for centuries, and a place like Chincoteague ensures that rite will not go the way of the horse-and-buggy in our modern era. The ponies here are so omnipresent that even one of the few fast food stops has a fenced herd of public-friendly ponies – right next to its parking lot.
Horses are Chincoteague’s #1 draw, and it’s easy to see why. Watching a wild horse saunter through a saltmarsh as sunset nears, with cattle egrets in its watery reflection and dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, summons a vision of west meeting east, of past and future both. In Chincoteague, the ponies help us rediscover our own dreams.
David Wheeler is a freelance writer and founder of WildNewJersey.tv . His book, “Wild New Jersey: Nature Adventures in the Garden State,” will be published in February by Rutgers University Press. He can be reached at dwheeler@edisonwetlands.org .
Posted by WILDNEWJERSEY at 7/22/2010 6:00 AM 
Categories: Go Wild! Travel Exclusive
Tags: Assateague Island National Seashore virginia maryland atlantic coast Chincoteague wild ponies assateague lighthouse Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge
Categories: Go Wild! Travel Exclusive
Tags: Assateague Island National Seashore virginia maryland atlantic coast Chincoteague wild ponies assateague lighthouse Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge
Comments