Chagford Pony Drift Sale 2020

A rainy, misty autumn day on Dartmoor. The moor turns russet and yellow and brown. It is beautiful in this season. Beautiful, and strangely empty. The young foals that ran and played all summer are no longer there. They have been rounded up and gathered and are going to be auctionned off at the Chagford pony drift sale. 

Dartmoor Hill ponies are not the "true" Dartmoor ponies. They are not a breed. They are feral horses, belonging to people who have grazing rights on the moor. There is quite a mix among them: some ressemble the typical, bay Dartmoor. Others are Shetland. Most are a mix. They come in all sizes and shapes and colours. Though they are a tourist attraction, they are not worth much: too small, too awkward, too wild, whatever. In the past, they have been auctionned off at ridiculous prices and many have met a very sad fate.

The Chagford pony drift sale, taking place in the eponymous Dartmoor village, is the only one left of its kind.  

I had often wondered about this sale. I never was on Dartmoor when it happened. Now, having moved to Devon, I had the opportunity to go. 

I did not really want to. There are too many horror stories about how the ponies are sold for meat and end up being slaughtered. I felt it would be a brutal, distressing experience. Hypocritically, I wanted to close my eyes on what happens to the foals and just go on dreaming that they find a good home and live happily ever after. 

But the sale exists. The auction, and sometimes the slaughter, happen. And I cannot go on looking away. The fate of Dartmoor Hill ponies troubles me. In a way, I had to know what happened. So I went. 

The sale took place in the market that’s outside the village. The actual setting was not as big as I had imagined it would be and I wondered how the hundreds of ponies being sold actually fitted in the small wooden pens. I remained outside the penning area: I would have needed a buyer’s number to go in and I felt there were just too many people, some without mask in spite of the rise in covid-19 cases. 

There was also a lot of cars, so much it was difficult to find parking space, even on the road outside. Many were pulling trailers, either two-horse ones, or those used for sheep. I guessed they belonged individuals who wanted to buy a pony for themselves, as a riding pony, as a companion.... There were also a couple of huge, ominous livestock lorries. I truly hope they had just been used to bring the ponies to market. 

Even outside the rings there were many people. Locals, talking, exchanging news. The sale is a traditional event and an opportunity to socialise. I noticed, by unwittingly overhearing some conversations, that a few had come to check that ponies they’d watched growing up on the moor didn’t go for meat. Others were looking through the catalogue and trying to decide which pony they wanted to bid on. 

Though I could not see what was going on in the auction ring, I could hear the prices. I did not stay till the end but was glad to see that, while I was there, the ponies were going for prices from 200 to 500 guineas. Some horses, who were not actually ponies but Paint crosses, even went for over 800 guineas. However, part of me suspects that the most attractive lots (nice colour, conformation, good marketing strategy) get sold first when the auction is in full swing and that the others are kept for the end. 

Looking at the catalogue, I was surprised to see that there were not just Dartmoor Hillies. There were those Paint crosses, donkeys, Shetlands… It made me wonder why people decided to sell those horses during such an event. Because they want to get rid of them as quickly as possible before winter? Or because they know that, with the excitement of the auction they will reach a good price? 

From where I stood, I was able to observe how the ponies were handled. I was pleasantly surprised. Not that it was particularly gentle but I had feared it would be rougher. Specific gestures were used to control the head and rump of the ponies. Some, who were rearing, had to be manhandled but they never were hit or beaten. The people in charge of it obviously knew what they were doing and used a lot of body language (positioning themselves in a certain way for instance). 

As for the ponies, they were not as agitated as I thought they would be, though some were obviously more stressed than others. When in a group, they relied on each other a lot, huddling together, seeking reassurance. Going into the crutch for microchipping did distress them. As for what happened in the auction ring, I did not see it. 

So what did I make of this experience? I would have liked to learn more about what happened behind the scenes. I would have liked to know the fate of all the ponies. I would have liked to help them. I was not as upset by the sale as I expected to be. But I was not happy either. However, all in all, I’m glad I went. I saw what I saw. Though I did not have the all the answers I needed, I am still speculating on many things but at least, I had an insight into how all of this works. And maybe one day, I’ll be able to help some of those ponies.

*Since writing this article, I have learnt that, apparently, all the ponies at the sale have found home. I really hope it is true. It would be wonderful if it was the case!