Telstar's High Chicago
Remembering Jan. 12th and an unforgettable horse.
Hello all and sundry,
Thank you for dropping in. I sure wish you had had the chance to be greeted and welcomed to our home by our boy, Chicago. I think you would have gotten a kick out it and his shenanigans! Won’t you join me for a tea and a tale? Grab a seat and I’ll share with you a poem about a horse who didn’t know he was one.
Meet Telstar’s High Chicago as a wee babe:
Yesterday was a bit bittersweet. The bitter always surfaces when feeling loss, yet the sweet swoops in and lands with all of the best memories. It is hard to believe that it has been 10 years since he passed. He was my best bud for 25, having been in my life since he was born. His mom, who is buried in Montana, was my loyal ride since I was around15. (I’ve written about her in a previous post; we survived a near drowning together. I’ll include the link at the end of this post.) When I moved to Texas, Chicago made the long journey here and we had so many wonderful years together, though not enough years. Isn’t that the way of things?
Have a listen and I hope my introduction has you meet him through my words.
Many blessings and MUCH LOVE,
~Wendy💜
Telstar’s High Chicago
On a backroad drive, have you ever noticed a place set off the road, gate entry with stone column, inscribed with 'G'? Maybe... Maybe not. Have you seen that gravel drive, splitting a pasture in two, often dotted with puddles after a rain? Maybe... Maybe not. Or, perhaps what caught your eye was the recently cut grass with distinct evidence of a tractor's path? Maybe... Maybe not. Could it be, in how often you pass, a habitual scene to your eye, these things went unnoticed? Maybe... Maybe not. More than likely, what you did, with wondering heart, in appreciation, see... Our Chicago, standing in mid-drive, four white socked legs, a hip dipped, one relaxed, resting rear hoof, a white blazed head hanging low, eyes a-droop, sleepy, all silky sorrel mane moving with an easy breeze, tail in occasional swish, yet, still on committed watch our self-assigned entrance guard. Or, It could have been... along the fence, in full alert, ears forward pressed, you happened upon his visit with the neighbor's neighers. He was ALL up in others 'business' like that! Maybe... Just maybe, you came around the bend and found him ready to race your car to the end of his well worn track, where he would then trot back to the starting spot and ready himself for the next easily beat car on the street. Maybe... Yet, maybe, you have ventured in, through and passed the gate, making the slow curve, over cattle guard, up to the house to park, and rather than a common greet of alerting barks, it was the thunder of hooves, and a good nostril snort, that met you at the window of your ride. He was welcoming, like that. He who we called Chicago, our Yee-ago. Telstar's High Chicago, his official name. He was our horse, and many passerby, DID see him. Now, there has been discussion as to him being a horse; to that passerby's eye, that's just, and all, he was. You may have considered him— MORE... Maybe not. If you'd asked what he was, I could say: Yes, he was a horse. One with four white splashed legs against a sleek sorrel covered muscle, a hint of paint, white splash on his side at lower belly. A face with long forehead-to-nose blaze and large, curious eyes. Quite stunning, as horses go, and to you, yes, a horse— just a horse. BUT... our boy was so much more than a horse, and he knew it! So did we. What you wouldn't see, from the road, as you passed, was that he often felt himself— a dog; he sure thought he should be. One with house access, backyard access, whatever you were eating or drinking, access. Opened doors meant he was invited in. Opened gates meant he was supposed to go through it. If he could have barked back, to his dog sister and brothers, Riley, Ben, or Jake... oh, the conversations! Instead, he would just antagonize and tease, head over fence just high enough for nose to be out of reach, and in snorted sneeze, challenge them to 'speak'. At times, he was full on willing to be a duck— bathing in splash, all in with all four feet, taking over their kiddie pool. Or, on bended front knees... (oh, that's also a goat) to reach his head inside duckling pens, and check out what they had to eat. He "raised" a few dogs, some flocks of ducks, a deer or two, and cats. A most special cat, who adored him so much, that wherever he was, she was, too. Most surely, though, he knew he was human— Palace guard at the gate, Greeter of visitors and concierge; he'd help you get your things from your car. Judge, of guilt, if ever his meal was 'late', so— Timekeeper, too. Mechanic of vehicles; a raised hood always meant: head, in. Car detailer; a door ajar and he would nibble, I mean, spot-wash the upholstery. Advisor, quality control officer; for car washing, window washing, or anything tasked outdoors. So, Ranch hand; he had to be the best around! If you had a job to do, he was up for it: chopping wood, picking up rocks, erecting a barn, repairing water lines, replacing a pool liner, changing a tire, feeding the ducks (of course), fixing fence, or unloading hay (as long as he could sample it). He was a 'hand' for just about anything... even when no one "needed" him to help, HE DID! His 'helping' skills were legit! Landscaper; he was in charge of mowing. Thought he was in charge of rosebush trimming, but that was only to get my attention. Master gardener; making sure we put in extra rows of corn—those cobs and husks were his favorite. We had better make sure he got HIS, whenever we'd BBQ! Orchard caretaker and guard; kept those pesky squirrels from consuming all of the peaches, especially the ones HE wanted to eat! Shepherd or herdsman; he, rider less, moved cattle, ducks, dogs, cats, squirrels, frogs, and people. Kid sitter; he followed three granddaughters as they went exploring the woods, warned them of cattle guard dangers, and brought them home safely. Once, he took an apple (choking hazard) from a wee boy, would lower his head to his level for a pet, and had no mind of him sitting on his back. Grandson, Alex, gained his devotion, always coming to visit with a bag of sweet carrots or the tastiest of apples. Counselor; for both my love and me, he'd stroll along beside us on walks, two dedicated listening ears, and solved all of our problems for a minimal fee, as long as we delivered it in a grain bucket. Good neighbor; was he. Always a hello for Maria and Georgia, and he'd accompany then as they walked their drive, along our fence, to check their mail. Those Zebu cows next door were buddies for hanging out and he did love being entertained by their calves. Those horses down the road a ranch or two? Well, he found way to beat the automatic gate and race down for a visit, or just get the latest neighborhood gossip. It may have been his way of getting everyone out of their houses for exercise, so that adds to his resume: Personal Trainer. As horses go, he was a handsome gent, charismatic, and fast as the wind. I knew his speed, having been on his back, but the real showing came when the neighbors bought an ostrich! We saw his full potential then! He wouldn't want me to tell it, but he had a fearful side. Once feeling it, he responded one of two ways: Outrun it or become as stiff as a board. The ostrich, all neck and bobbing along 'his' fence, induced his turbo boost! The miniature horse and donkey down the way, well, rendered him frozen, immovable... as shrunken just wasn't something he'd yet seen; surely something that small would be mean! Once the donkey began to bray, Oh, he was sure there was no getting away. With reluctance to move at all, frustrated with my coaxing, he plumb gave up trying. Instead of them see him crying, he just laid down in the road as though he were dying. This boy of ours was one of a kind. If you ever stopped and stayed, or joined us as we sat in lawn chairs in the shade, you were likely lucky enough to meet him; get a glimpse into the "horse" he was. He may have tried to convince you to have a walk out to the barn and slip him some feed; he had a way of making anyone believe he was 'starving'. Or, He may have put his head over your shoulder as you sat, giving you some warm nose blows in your ear, testing to see if you liked him. Maybe he gave taste to your hair, or sampled your drink. (He was into sharing!) He may have taken you off guard, with catlike quiet, he might have snuck up on you, and raced your heart. Though, could have, he eased your nerves with the gentle calm of extended nose. Before long, it's possible you forgot his size, and, as he hoped, had you believing he was a dog, or a duck, or a person. For all of his shenanigans, he could have been any of those. He was most definitely any of those, AND a magnificent horse. On a backroad drive, at a place set off the road, by a gate entry with a stone column, inscribed with 'G' there, a horse, you would see. He often kept guard at the gate, or if the summer was hot and shade was in need, you'd see him just off from there in his space under the shade of a hundred year old oak tree. Now, when you pass by, a marker of stones, you'll see. Maybe... Maybe not. He ran the earth and now runs the skies. He added Angel to his resume. May 1989--January 2015 W. Gray -January 14, 2015
Chicago was definitely human, Wendy! Such a special boy and bond with his human mom and dad. Sweet sweet telling of that boy’s life!❤️
The intelligence, the high intelligence of our animal companions and their wild compadres alike-you captured it just perfectly in your ode to Chicago. I think they come in our lives to save us, and we are just along for the ride. Thank you for this stunning piece today.