Appaloosa Yearlings

I’ve never been much of a Black Friday enthusiast; aside from the horses, there’s never been anything I needed so badly that I was willing to stand in line for hours in the rain or cold. There are a few things I intend on picking up today, but there is nothing I need to stand in a line for.

I briefly considered making a Toys R Us run to pick up the half-priced Stablemates set, but then I remembered the mistake I made a couple weeks ago. I had a half an hour to kill before work, the TRU was right across the street, and I thought what the heck, I’ll go check out the Breyer selection.

Not realizing it was the same night as their "Midnight Madness" sale.

That sort of thing happens to me all the time. It’s like I have an internal flash mob GPS. (Have you ever asked yourself "How on Earth did I end up in the middle of a Jesse Jackson rally?" I have.)

With absolutely no segue whatsoever, I present to you my Appaloosa Yearling chorus line:


(You’ll just have to pretend that the Palomino Western Pony is my Chalky Yearling, who for reasons unknown even to me is apparently detained somewhere else for the duration.)

I hardly ever find Liver Chestnut Yearlings, and Palomino ones aren’t super common in these parts, either. But at any given time, I always have at least one Appaloosa Yearling either on my saleslist, or in my body box. If I manage to sell one, the Universe manages to put in an automatic restock order.

That’s how come I have about a half dozen in my collection. You get that many passing through, and you’re bound to find variations. Big blankets, small blankets, different blazes, differently colored spots? Yup, gotta keep 'em.

There’s only one I consciously sought out - the two sock variation. She was a tough one: it took me a while to find her, and she’s not minty mint. It’s definitely an earlier variation, but it’s not one seen in any catalogs or other contemporaneous PR materials: all of the pictures of her from 1971 onward show her with those solid, Sandy Bay legs.


The Appaloosa Yearling is the only Breyer model to come in this peculiar shade of bay-that’s-not-bay. I can’t even recall seeing any vintage test colors that might have sported it. The closest match is the #154 Bay Blanket POA, whose color tends to be much warmer and more orangey.

The fact that the color is peculiar to the Appaloosa Yearling makes me wonder if they were modeling it after a specific, real-life horse. I haven’t found any evidence of that, but it’s another one of those notions I keep in the back of my mind as I mine old horse magazines for other precious nuggets of Breyer info.

The Incredible Shrinking Appaloosa

As I was compiling my BreyerFest saleslist yesterday, I discovered that I had three different Appaloosa Yearlings. I didn't realize they were all that popular around here: the Thoroughbreds and Adioses I find I understand (I live in an area that used to have a small but thriving horse racing industry.) But Appaloosa Yearlings? Go figure.

I have a disproportionately large collection of Appaloosa Yearlings in my own private collection, but that's because it seems to be one of those models – like the Black Stretch Morgan, or the Chestnut Saddlebred Weanling – that comes in endless variations. My post today, however, is about only one of those Yearlings. This one:


I purchased her several years ago at BreyerFest. Even in the low light endemic to the host hotel, she stood out: she was one weird girl. Nearly gray, with pale yellow spots. I had to have her! For comparison, here's a relatively normal/average Appaloosa Yearling:


And believe it or not, it's a variation that actually comes with an explanation: my gray girl is a Shrinky!

I almost totally missed out on the Shrinky phenomenon originally: most of the Shrinkies collectors discover or seek out nowadays date to the late 1980s or early 1990s, a period in which I wasn't really buying all that many new horses. (There's a long, interesting story about how I ended that hobby “hiatus,” but another time, sweeties, another time.) The only ones I recall having were the BHR SR Indian Ponies: my Bay one was particularly … oozy. And at the time, I attributed it to something else entirely.

I don't know what precisely causes the shrinking: something is slightly off in the composition of the Tenite, or in the molding process, that causes models to shrink, warp, crack and (sometimes) ooze. I haven't put any time into discovering what the precise problem is – it is again, another consequence of a lack of time and way too many topics to cover.

Just because some of your models are slightly taller or shorter than others of the same mold doesn't automatically make them Shrinkies, however. Tenite is a semi-synthetic material that's subject to environmental factors, and you're going to have some minor variations in size and shape as a result.

There are several other indicators of a models status as a true Shrinky, and this very pale girl of mine taught me that.

A while back I took a picture of this girl as an avatar on Blab. She was a bit dusty in spots, so I gave her a quick lick in lieu of walking over to the nearest sink and rinsing her off. I wasn't expecting her to taste so … nasty! I had to run to the sink anyway and rinse out my mouth!

I had licked some of my Breyers before in similar situations and had not experienced that before. Sometimes I'd feel a bit of a tingle, but nothing quite so dramatically wrong. What on Earth was going on?

I compared her to my other Appaloosa Yearlings and noticed that she was somewhat shorter than the rest – not dramatically, but noticeably. I then recalled a Spanish-Barb Buckshot I had in my collection that was slightly smaller than average, and of a somewhat unusual color – more pink than chestnut. So I pulled her out of storage, and gave him the lick test too.

Same result. Grossness! And out of that grossness came an epiphany (of sorts.)

I had noticed on eBay and elsewhere a number of unusual looking chestnuts – ones that were more pale, peachy pink than actual chestnut. Most of theme were on models from the late 1980s or early 1990s. They were pretty distinctive: why hadn't I noticed these guys before, when they came out? Was it another case of me being insufficiently observant?

No, it was probably because the paint finish hadn't yet started reacting to the messed up chemical composition of the Shrinky plastic. It took a few years before Chestnuts turned pink … and Bays turned gray!

My Appaloosa Yearling was not a variation, in the strictest sense. She was a Shrinky.

Shrinkies do still occur from time to time: last year at BreyerFest, my friend Bernie showed me a smallish, slightly off looking Diamondot Buccaneer who, one lick test later, revealed his true nature. And he was made several years after that first, now notorious batch.

I'm not advocating a wholesale licking of your collection to root out your potential Shrinkies – there are some that definitely don't need that test. (Especially if they're oozing!) But if you're curious, and have nothing better to do in the privacy of your own home ….

Seeing Stars

Sorry about that. My life suffered a temporary overdose of drama.

I had to deal with a death in the family, a divorce, major surgery, a grand opening, and a rescue puppy. (Not in that particular order, either of importance or happenstance.) The normal state of my existence is already at barely organized chaos: mix in all of the above, and it shouldn't be any surprise that the past couple of days have ended with me collapsing into the nearest available comfy chair.

And falling asleep.

This kind of simultaneously occurring weirdness happens to me from time to time, which probably explains my general avoidance of soap operas and reality shows. They all pale in comparison to what I have to deal with on a daily basis. I won't go into further details, except to say that I consider my hobby activities to be among my more “mundane” aspects of my life. And a very welcome one, at that.

I'll make up for it right quick. I have some unexpected free time this week.

I did manage to wake up in time Sunday morning to have a reasonably good day at the flea market – something I sorely needed. Neither my work schedule nor the weather had been especially cooperative in the past month, and before that, I had an unpleasant … incident with another collector that had mildly soured me on the whole experience. (No grabby hands while someone else is perusing the box of horses! Bad flea market etiquette, ladies, bad! Grr.)

While cleaning up some of the newest acquisitions for BreyerFest, I ran across another one of those “how could I have not seen that before” observations. Take a look at these two handsome boys: a nice, if run-of-the-mill Appaloosa Gelding, and a darker than average El Pastor. Notice something peculiar?


Yep, same star, used on completely different molds. For comparison, here's the star on the Chalky El Pastor I also happened to pick up Sunday morning (yes, ladies, he'll also be on the saleslist):


Almost all Breyer models show some variation in their masking, and several Breyers from the 1970s and 1980s are notable for their facial marking variations: the original releases of both the Yearling and the Saddlebred Weanling are actually quite notorious for it. (At least four known for the Yearling, and about …. a kajillion for the Weanling.) But I hadn't thought they actually reused painting masks on completely different molds. I always thought they were uniquely designed for each mold.

On Traditionals, anyway. Now, I had known for quite some time that Breyer had reused some of the star and blaze masks on the Classic molds, particularly the Racehorses, but I chalked that up to (a) mold confusion among the painters at the factory, and (b) the fact that the molds share enough similarities in size, shape and style that any minor inconsistencies in the fit could be compensated for. It never occurred to me that Breyer considered the facial masks on the Traditionals interchangeable as well.

But I just happened to have these guys standing next to each other in the bath assembly line, and there was the evidence, staring me right in the face.

It makes sense, though: those small masks could be easily lost or damaged, and it's cheaper to reuse what you have on hand than create another one. Faces are also relatively “flat:” issues of fit and overspray would be relatively minor. (Though minimizing overspray back then wasn't high on Breyer's list of priorities, either.)

This is one of those backburner research projects I'll have to get back to at another time (cf. “chaos,” above). I'll still have to work out attributions and chronologies: in layman's English, which masks originally belonged to which mold, and when they were used.

Programming Note: Since I am dreadfully behind on my BreyerFest preparations, a lot upcoming posts may be BreyerFest related, in whole or in part.

And re: the puppy. He's not here yet. If and when he finally shows up on our doorstep, y'all will be the first to know.