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Photo by Mic Smith
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Photo by Mic Smith
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Photo by Mic Smith
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Photo by Mic Smith
I have walked Daufuskie Island many times, my eyes scanning the beaches for an intact sand dollar or other gift planted by the tides. But what a difference a little bit of elevation makes. Sitting tall in a saddle, I am struck by the transformation of this familiar terrain into something novel and wild. Even the gulls seem pluckier, dipping and swirling on winds that feel gustier than they did before I mounted.
Being a few feet closer to the sky offers a fresh perspective. But my focus on what’s up in the air is broken by a stirring beneath me—a reminder that I am still connected to the ground and, by virtue of the gentle beast that bears me, to the history of this place.
It’s a vantage point that can only be gained on this island while on the back of a Carolina Marsh Tacky.
Protector of a breed
My horse, Flaca, is dreamy to look at with her velvety blue-gray “grulla” coat and soulful chocolate eyes. Her muscles ripple with anticipation. We fall in line with a small group of riders and begin our trek down the shore.
Erica Veit, a leggy equestrian and full-time islander, is the leader of our pack and rides at the forefront of a movement to save this legendary horse breed. She and her partner, Tony Geyston, founded the Daufuskie Marsh Tacky Society in 2015 as the only nonprofit that exists exclusively to support and protect the breed in its native habitat.
“Marsh Tackies are critically endangered horses, so we made it our mission to protect them in their natural habitat on this island,” says Veit. “They are truly a piece of living history. By offering equine-oriented programs that also benefit the public, we hope to share that history and one day remove these horses from the endangered list.”
Through breeding, training, education and public support, the nonprofit makes gradual but significant progress to ensure the survival of South Carolina’s official heritage horse.
A Lowcountry legacy
The ties that bind South Carolina and Marsh Tackies are tightly woven and historically rich. Brought to the barrier islands and other coastal areas of South Carolina by Spanish colonists in the 1500s, the horses were abandoned and left to roam when the colonies failed. Instead of succumbing to the harsh subtropical climate and conditions, these sturdy equines demonstrated rare tenacity by thriving in the swamps and maritime forests.
Fatigue-resistant, quick and sure-footed, the small-framed feral horses were once a common sight on Daufuskie and across the Lowcountry. After being redomesticated in the 1600s, they acquired newfound usefulness and were employed by farmers, hunters, mail couriers and even families who needed to get their kids to school.
Marsh Tackies also served honorably during times of war. Most famously, they were used by Brigadier General Francis “Swamp Fox” Marion to evade British troops during the Revolutionary War. Their compact size, unique gait (aka the Swamp Fox Trot), easy disposition and otherworldly knack for navigating swamplands and thick forests made the horses indispensable to the good general and his troops. They also saw action during World War II as the ride of choice for “Beach Pounders” who patrolled and protected the coast of Hilton Head Island against the threat of German espionage.
But around 1950, the dominance of automobiles and tractors sent Marsh Tacky numbers plunging. They soon faced extinction, which is why there are only about 400 to 500 still in existence. Thanks to Veit’s vision, those numbers are gradually ticking upward again through a carefully implemented breeding program. Visitors to Daufuskie are often delighted to meet the mares and the newest foals. They can also sign up for riding lessons and even volunteer at the horse farm. But the most popular activity, by far, is beach riding.
“Once sea turtle nesting season ends in mid-October, it’s all about the beach rides,” says Veit. “Experiencing the beach on horseback gives you a whole new perspective of your surroundings. Everybody wants to have that special experience.”
Crossing and carting
White clouds, blue skies, mild temps—it’s a perfect Daufuskie day for fulfilling a bucket list wish: riding horseback on one of South Carolina’s most secluded beaches.
There are no bridges to the island, so our party of three boards a ferry in Hilton Head to cross the Calibogue Sound, about a 45-minute ride. We dock at Freeport Marina, hop on a rented golf cart (the preferred mode of transportation here) and bump our way down a dirt road to Turtle Beach. A smattering of pale “boneyard” trees, some bent, some fallen, some balancing on exposed roots, creates a hauntingly beautiful scene. The only hints of civilization are a couple of brightly colored uninhabited beach houses in the distance, their stilts swallowed up to the knees by the greedy tide.
A clutch of horses with glorious dark manes whipping side to side adds to the ethereal vibe. Young girls wearing riding helmets sit on two of them, eyes fixed on their teacher.
The girls’ parents, Jennifer and Ed Null, nod their approval from their beach chairs. In 2020, they traded the galloping pace of Chicago for life at a trot on Daufuskie. But a more sedate lifestyle also meant fewer activities for the kids. That’s why, for many island families, Veit and her horse fleet are pivotal to raising happy, healthy children.
“The girls aren’t just learning to ride, but they are also learning skills like how to calculate feed for the horses, how to care for them and clean up the stalls,” says Veit. “They have an actual relationship with the horses. They also learn about the history of the Marsh Tacky, so taking riding lessons is about more than riding. It’s an educational experience on lots of levels.”
Saddling up—and down
The lesson concluded, it is time for the Marsh Tacky first-timers (me included) to embark on our much-anticipated beach ride. Veit beckons me toward a horse. I got this, I think, stepping up on a stool and waving off her assistance.
What happens next is humbling, as I attempt to secure my left foot in the stirrup and swing myself up. Amid the ensuing hilarity, Veit flexes some muscle, literally, and comes to the rescue. In no time, I am sitting upright in an English saddle on the exceedingly patient Flaca. Whew.
Erica reassures me with a smile. “Now, hold one rein in each hand like this and grip the horse with your thighs.” She demonstrates a few basic techniques, then moves on to the next rider.
In one enviable, smooth motion, she is in the saddle. “Let’s go!”
As we ride, I consider my surroundings: rolling sea on one side, scrubby maritime forest on the other, a stretch of white sand beneath me and an endless sky encircling it all. The contrasts trigger a shift in time and space, and my senses begin firing on all cylinders. I have never, ever been to this place before—at least, that’s how it feels.
Flaca quivers, and I run my hand down the length of her neck, awed by yet another contrast: her soft coat and rock-solid musculature, the coexistence of tranquility and power.
Skirting the tide, I imagine I have newly breached this beach, an explorer who crossed an ocean with her trusty steed and discovered a lush, mysterious barrier island. From a distance, Veit’s baseball cap could be the visored helmet of the 2nd South Carolina Regiment, and she, a general on horseback, reliant on the gifts of the Marsh Tacky to outsmart the enemy.
It is the symbiosis of the Marsh Tacky and Daufuskie Island that creates this rare magic. The wind gusts in agreement, and a loose formation of sea birds swoops down then up again as if stitching the “now” to a whole sky of “thens.”
And from where I am sitting, everything old is new again.