Which is why conservationists say public pastures such as these are so vital to the survival of the breed itself.
Today, it’s believed there may be a little over a hundred full-blood Newfoundland ponies left in the province. On an island where the only fences used to be those protecting the vegetable gardens, generations of these animals wandered and bred until they created a bloodline as rugged and unique as the province itself – the Newfoundland pony. They were an early source of hauling power in outport communities seldom connected by roads: dragging loads of fish from the shore, plowing fields, towing iron ore from underground mines and pulling sleighs in the winter. Scenes like this used to be common in Newfoundland, where thousands of ponies once roamed freely, serving as the island’s original tractors and all-terrain vehicles. There are no predators here, and few distractions, except for the odd moose that occasionally comes crashing out of the woods and flattens the fence. John’s is about as close to heaven as you can get. If you’re a pony, this pasture an hour’s drive west from St.
A place where you can find an endless buffet of sweet grasses, partridge berries, spruce tips and even chanterelle mushrooms, just by following your nose.
Picture a meadow on top of a hill where the sea breeze blows in steadily from the bay and the flies are swept away before they can bite.
