We totally love this wee guy. He is a thug, bird killer and all round country cat, but he is also a cuddly, purr machine (when the mood takes him!).
He started life in a crazy lady’s house in East Lothian who insisted he ate anything from chinese takeaway to cereal but we managed to rescue him and brought him back to the countryside where he can climb trees, chase various woodland creatures and eat us (and his Granny) out of house and home.
Squint beak Steve was my favourite chicken in the whole world. The first time I saw her drink I was in stitches for ages! She had a slightly offset beak so when she went for a drink she just sort of tipped her head back, beak open and just stayed there, gaping at me. Luckily Kenny showed her how a big Brown Hen should conduct herself when dining in company and she started moving her water with her wee tongue.
Sadly we lost Steve after the strangest week of my life – I took her to the vet, brought her into the house where she rested up in a massive dog cage, hand fed her, bathed her and towards the end syringe fed her Metacalm to try to reduce the inflammation in her wee body. But the blockage was too much for her and she died in the night, peacefully enough, warm and safe. I never thought I would feel this way about a chicken but she was so bold, cheeky, possibly slightly retarded and oh so loveable. We buried her in the garden because she was part of our family and I loved her.
Awaiting a picture of this little bastard.