My Palomino Pal

A lifelong indifference to palominos changes when one golden colt grows into a dependable partner.

It’s odd to have equine prejudices. 

But we do. Or at least I do. Maybe I should say I did. 

Some don’t like certain bloodlines. Others are funny about swirls. If I had a nickel for every time a cowboy told me he doesn’t much care for paints, or blue eyes, or white feet, or whatever, I’d be writing this post from my beach house in Fiji. 

I’m going to share something, and please don’t think I’m being offensive intentionally, BUT — I’ve never really cared much for palomino horses. Most little girls love them — they dream of a yellow horse with a flowing mane and a white tail, but I was never that type. Sure, there have been countless incredible ones. I totally get why other people are attracted to the color — it’s beautiful — and I would never cut a horse down for being yellow. But I am just not drawn to the look of a golden horse like a lot of people. 

I own a palomino broodmare. She’s a One Time Pepto out of Sheza Shinette (hence the yellow) and a very spicy, talented individual. So, rewind a few years, I bred her to Metallic Cat the first time around, and I was just certain I would have a sorrel or a red roan baby that winter. Fingers crossed for a colt. Well, she had that colt on February 27. And he was… yellow. I tried to pretend in my mind that he was sorrel, just funny pigmented. Nope. Maybe he would roan out and be one of those cool palomino roans… nope. He was as golden as they come, and I hate to admit — I was a little disappointed. (Though, to be fair, when one has a palomino broodmare, one should expect palomino babies a percentage of the time.) I said to myself, “Well, at least he should be sellable to the people who like palominos.” We named him “Peach Fuzz.” 

Well, time went on he grew up. Since we owned his mother and wanted to make her a producer, we gelded our palomino and decided to keep him and train him for cowhorse events. I’m not much of a showman, but I have wanted to be more competitive in the National Reined Cow Horse Association, so I was hoping that one of our three 3-year-olds for that year would shake out in my favor as a non-pro contender. And one did. It wasn’t the sorrel. It wasn’t the red roan. It was the — yep — palomino. Ol’ Peach Fuzz. 

We went, we showed, we exceeded expectations. That kind little horse with the gilded coat has carried me through the Non Pro finals and has won me several buckles and even more checks. But beyond just making a solid little show horse, I must admit, coming into his 5-year-old year, he is the tryingest, friendliest, happiest and sweetest horse I could have ever hoped for. My kids can climb on him double and bareback and ride around in a halter amidst chaos, and he just blinks his yellow eyelashes, happy to be out and about. He’s fun to use for a job, reliable in the showpen and always greets me at the gate. His throatlatch is small, his hip is huge, and I forgive him every time he stains his yellow sides in the mud. 

Peach Fuzz has been a huge blessing in my life. He has brought many gifts into my life, but I’m especially glad he gave me the chance to laugh at myself and change my immediate feelings about yellow horses. His mother is due again early spring, and if she happens to have another palomino colt… I’m calling dibs.