This is who we called "The Gimp", who was injured in a brutal windstorm in the San Juan Islands of Washington State. His mate left him on his own after about six months and he was looking weak and skittish. My good friend Rocky began to feed him almost daily and even had to rescue him off of the beach with oncoming tides quite a few times, but he began to thrive and often would follow Rocky through the woods as he made his rounds. Well, after three years, The Gimp died. He was buried under his favorite perch on a remote island. So long old friend....