Mojo

In our lives we are served many joys and we are served many heartaches.

Mojo was both a joy and now, a heartache.

Mojo arrived in 1984, a naked 6-7 day old baby crow brought in by Gail Lewis from the Humane Society. He was our first tiny baby crow.

By the time we realized that he’d never fly, he’d been named Mojo and everyone had fallen in completely in love with him.  The love affair was mutual and lasted until the end of 2002 when our dear Mojo crossed the ‘Rainbow Bridge’.

While permanent residents are kept, necessarily, to a bare minimum at the Bird Centre, Mojo was a special bird from the first moment he arrived and lifted his little head up high, mouth wide open saying “Aw-wah-wah-wah-wah”.  (Loose translation - Feed me!)

Raised in a margarine container, Mojo had a gene deficiency, was somewhat stunted in size and could never fly due to a shoulder injury when he fell from his nest in his first week of life.  As his first set of feathers grew in, his wings and tail feathers were remarkably white, distinguishing him from every other crow in the world. He always responded to anyone who offered him conversation or attention with a barking caw but his ‘Mojo-speak’ delight with very special folks in his life was expressed differently - something between a delightful chortle and a playful trill. 

Clara, our little red Cochin banty hen was his closest bird friend. She was already a very senior hen when she was found wandering beside Woodroffe Avenue. Compared to the other smaller birds in the flight cage, Mojo and Clara were the gentle giants.

Inseparable, they followed each other around, ate together, chatted bird-talk to each other, slept side by side and constantly preened each other.

Mojo had many careers at the Centre.

As an interior designer, he vacillated between being totally adorable and impishly devilish by constantly reorganizing the flight cage to his satisfaction.

He was a chef with a great sense of humor...his favorite recipe was what we called ‘sludge soup’ concocted by adding all his food to his drinking water bowl.  Voila! Sludge soup! And of course, visitors to the Centre were pleased to find ‘Mojo’s Trail Mix’ to feed to his chickadee friends along the trails outside.

Mojo is remembered for being our Grand Master of Ceremonies in selecting the winning names of prizes for our annual Christmas raffles.  Many of the ticket-buyers ‘decorated’ their tickets, hoping that Mojo would be attracted by this and pick their names first...however, Mojo always remained fair and unselective in carrying out this unique and serious duty!

The Centre was officially christened by VIP Mojo when he became the first bird to hop down the trail and enter our new Bird Centre. Our spirited little mascot then happily ‘took over’ by claiming many special areas for himself...Mojo’s Room, Mojo’s Peephole, Mojo’s Corner. 

In 1994, Mojo launched his new career of author.  With the ghost-writing assistance of Jackie Greene, and with his own gentle brand of humor, Mojo wrote stories about birds that had been at the Centre over the years and his experiences in the flight cage.

They included:  The Story of the Lucky Loon,  Smokey the Screech Owl,  Weep-Weep the Battered Bird,  Clara the Chicken,  and Hank the Fishy Heron

In fact, the Mojo stories made him something of a national and international celebrity.  The Humane Society of Canada sent his stories out to locations across the country to assist in their fundraising, something that helped many other sick and wounded animals throughout our land.

His stories are now being used in other countries in English Second Language classes!

In 1989, Student, Dave Ferdinand wrote:

“As I stare through the chicken wire of our inside flight cage, I see a bird, but not just any bird...this bird plays each of us at the Centre as smoothly as the touch of an ivory key on a piano.  With his gentle stare that seems to radiate love, I find myself drawn, coaxed towards him with his every squawk that sounds more like a lullaby to the trained ear.  Then before I know it, it’s too late...as I look around I find myself also in the flight cage with Mojo pecking ever so gently at the quickly discovered mealworms enfolded in the palm of my hand.  In thanks he cocks his head towards the ground and trills out something resembling a “CaCa-CaCaCa”.  Then he turns around with his drunken walk and resumes his daily routine.  Loving him is easy.  Mojo reflects and confirms the effort, the time, the patience and most of all, the love we put into each bird.”

Mojo met and adored thousands of visitors and friends at the Centre.

For all of us, it would have been nice to be able to see Mojo in flight, flying free at some point throughout his 19 years of life.  Now, unencumbered by a body that was no longer able to serve the way it was intended, it makes saying goodbye a little easier, softens the sadness in our hearts.  On the other side of the Rainbow Bridge, our little Mojo is soaring.