Scotch Judge came to our barn in the early 1980's. I wasn't alive yet but have heard the story many times. When he arrived, he walked off the trailer and everyone stared in awe. There stood a horse, stretched up on his hind feet, front feet striking at anything that moved. There was a handler on each side at the end of 20 foot leads, a stud chain attached to each lead that went all the way around his nose. No one believed that he could be trained so he was bought at a rock bottom price and arrived at his new home, confused and angry for reasons known only to him. After a time, he began to relax and enjoy his new job as a roping horse. Every now and then his old demeanor would re-surface and he would throw a bucking fit in the middle of a show. I remember the horse well. I would go stand at the fence and admire the liver colored horse with the arched neck and striped face that would prance around the pen and call his love out to any mares who would listen. I can remember times when he was the most willing partner my Dad could ask for and other times that he would get this devilish look on his face and go into a frenzy that would make a Texas Tornado seem mild by comparison. How often I watched in fear and awe as they sped down the arena after a particularly quick steer only to have Judge pin his ears and throw himself into the fence in hopes of smashing the rider's leg. How many times was he gracious enough to let Dad finish in the money. I often wonder what it would have been like to ride him, gliding along like an oiled bullet, wondering if he would stop or run to the other side of the world, finding every tree along the way. I wish we still had him and maybe I could find out. Unfortuantely, he colicked in '92 and had to be euthanized. It is too bad, I would have loved to at least had a foal from him.
Scotch Judge Quarter Horse
This is the only picture that I could find of him. (he is the liver chesnut on the right)