Mojo

Mojo, aka Captain Green Hawk

The bird, Mojo, is ringing his bell like crazy this morning. I wonder what makes him decide it's a good day for bell ringing?

As a flyer, I've always sorta felt like it's politically incorrect to "own" a bird. Mojo was already living here when I moved in, so I've had to make peace with the idea of having a caged flying creature as a roomate. His wings aren't clipped and his cage is often open, but he rarely takes advantage of his flight privileges. When he does choose to fly, it's usually just a few frantic low altitude laps of the office and a slider landing on my desk. In the summer I always worry that he's gonna crash into the ceiling fan as he flies his laps.

I've tried hard to make friends with Mojo, and we are pals, but the thing that keeps me from getting really close to him is that he's a biter. Not always, and certainly not predictably, but he will bite if he's in the mood. Sometimes months will go by without a bite. He'll happily wander around on top of my head or takes baths in the sink perched on my finger, and then, out of the blue, he'll bite. Not that I blame him or anything, but it does make it hard to relax around the guy.