Saturday, December 17, 2016

Sounds of Seafaring Syrinx - 2nd blog by RJ Roush

Sounds of Seafaring Syrinx

words by RJ Roush

Spending my last three years in the world of birding and bird work has left me with an acute appreciation of the sounds our avian friends make, one that will likely never leave me. I've spent a good chunk of those years listening for birds in difficult to reach places. This is a job known as "point counting" and it means you stand in once place for a certain amount of time (usually a few minutes) and write down every bird you hear and see in that time interval, doing your best not misidentify or double-count. To the untrained ear, it's a bunch of "pip"s and "chirp"s that can seem indistinguishable from one another, but to those in this line of work, those who take the time to learn each species' calls and songs, then each "chip" heard is simply a bird telling you it's identity. 

And so, I want to give you an audial landscape of Kure. For if you take the time to look up most of  Kure Atolls voices in a field guide, you're greeted with a "generally silent at sea." I assure you, however, that while they are on their breeding grounds they make enough of a din to last the rest of the year in silence. 

Laysan Albatross: Seemingly the most abundant bird on the island at the moment and surely the noisiest. The air is filled with their bill clacks similar to the sound of a latin dancer's castanets at varying speeds. It ranges from the light and slow snips to drink falling rainwater in a storm to a rattled, machine gun rapid-fire where they seem to unhinge their lower mandible at a potential mate during their dancing. They have their trademark "moo" which is somewhat mournful sounding with a throaty quality. It lasts a few seconds and decrescendos in pitch and tone toward the end. They can make a solitary or series of piercing whistles, which if you're nearby may well hurt your ears. They tend to "he-eh-eh-eh" in a whispered staccato, producing a rather endearing effect on those who are listening. And of course, if they pass low over your head in flight, it sounds like a small aircraft is but a few feet above you.

Black-footed Albatross: Take everything I said about Laysan Albatross and make it a little deeper in tone and throatier in delivery. A more sultry voice overall, with a bit more "honk" than "hew".

Wedge-tailed Shearwater: Possibly some of the strangest sounds on the island come from them. Moaning, groaning, and wailing in all forms. The most typical seems to be a strangely alluring "WHooooo-hru-whOOOOOoooooo-hruh-whroooo" that alternates high and low pitches. The result is something like taking very exaggerated breaths in and out while trying to make noise from the back of the throat. They also make a series of high, quick squeals, like mice greeting one another.

Bonin's Petrel: Their calls and bodies fill the sky as soon as the sun sets. Though difficult to describe, I would have to compare their calls to a sort of low radio static interspersed with regular clucks. "wurrrrrrrrrr-WHK-wurrrr-whk-whk-wurrrrrrr." Every so oftern they raise the volume of their scratchy static to produce an ascending "WHRaaaaark" of a screech.

Masked Booby: They seem to be mostly limited to grating honks and squawks "WHONK" or "GWAH-gwah-gwha" as well as various grunts. The males are starting to give off a high, dinosaurian whistle with beaks pointed to the sky to show off their better qualities to potential mates. The tone is hollow, almost ethereal, and decrescendos heavily in the few seconds in lasts.

Red-tailed Tropicbird: In flight they give an raucous, circling call and bark, far from harmonious. On the ground, the young give off one of my favorite sounds: an impressive, rattling and scornful trill that can go on for multiple seconds on a single breath. The quality is somewhat like if you tried to roll an R in your throat, as loud as you can, with your mouth wide open. Go ahead and try it.

White Tern: These little angels seem to be most vocal in flight while whirling around your head. Their voice is a nasal and squeaky oink and they go through their somewhat limited repertoire or "pinks", "gueenks", and "whnks" in no order whatsoever. Every few notes they seem to squabble with one another in a light, grunting and somewhat percussive "rhen-rhen-rhen-rhen" that fades either to brief silence of more "gueenks".

Great Frigatebird: The most Jurassic sounding of our island, in my opinion; their calls from the sky sound recall something out of a Steven Speilberg film. A scratchy series of clucks "whuk-whuk-whuk-whuk-whuk" announce their presence not unlike a car alarm. If you're near them on the ground, sometimes you'll catch a deflating hiss or a rapid hollow bill clacking even more clamorous than the Laysan Albatross'. If their is a group or young birds expecting food from an adult, the atmosphere becomes engulfed with scratchy prolonged screeches that may as well be coming from set of banshees in the heliotrope trees. The sound of their whirring feathers in the breeze, much like the Laysan's, could also be compared to a small aircraft skimming by if they pass overhead. 

Bristle-thighed Curlew: Though this is not a breeder on the island, I figured I would make a small concession for their instantly recognizable call. They make a clear "WHEEoWHIT" whistle, similar to what you would do if you were trying to get someone attention from a distance.

Tristram's Storm-Petrel: Not very common, but they make their presence known late at night or early in the morning. The only call of theirs we seem to hear is a distinctive and somewhat erratic and rolling "hurh-hu-hur-hu-hu-huh." It has been compared to a monkey chuckling under it's breath. 

This is not by any means a comprehensive list of all species or all sounds of those listed, but rather an accumulation of favorite observations. Seabirds are not known for the beauty of their voices, but for us they have come to mean home. Even though I described some as banshees and accused some of ear-damaging tones, they all bring a sense of joy and familiarity to the island. The noises that surround us become as much a part of our island as the sand underfoot and the ocean on the horizon. 

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Kau Ka Maka Blog #10

Blog #10 Kau Ka Maka
                                                                         Pule 10 (12/4/16-12/10/16)

   Aloha mai e nā maka heluhelu, nā ʻohana, a me nā hoa i piha i ke aloha iā Hōlanikū. E ʻokoʻa ana ke kumuhana o kēia puke hoʻomanaʻo me nā mea o nā pule i hala. ʻO ka maʻamau, kākau au e pili ana i ka hana o kēlā me kēia pule akā, mai kēia pule aku, e kākau ana au e pili ana i nā ʻano kumuhana like ʻole. ʻO kekahi, ʻo ia ka haʻawina o ka naʻau, nā mea ʻai a mākou e ʻai ai, nā mea aʻu e haʻo ai,  nā mea e ʻike ʻia, a pēlā aku. Makemake au e ʻike ʻoukou i ka ʻoiaiʻo o ka nohona i ʻaneʻi. ʻO ka mea aʻu e kākau ana i kēia pule, ʻo ia koʻu haʻo ʻana i nā mea aloha. I loko nō o nā haliʻa aloha, he ʻāʻumeʻume ke kau ʻana o kekahi mau mea o ka wā i hala i koʻu waihona noʻonoʻo. Paʻa koʻu noʻonoʻo i kēia mau lā. Ua hoʻāʻo au e hoʻokuʻu i ka luʻuluʻu i mea e hiki ai iaʻu ke holomua. I loko nō o koʻu uluhua, ʻike au he kumu ko kēia luhi. 
   Howzit everybody. I know my blogs have been posted later than usual. My mind has been stuck and I couldnʻt find the words to describe what went on this past week (which by the time I finally finish this, itʻll already be during our 11th week). Honestly, Iʻve continuously made changes to this blog because my headʻs been so unclear lately. So, Iʻm gonna change things up a bit. So far, Iʻve been writing about the work thatʻs been done each week, but this time Iʻm going to let you in and give you a glimpse of what one really experiences while being here on Hōlanikū. For me, these past two weeks have been filled with questions and realization. While in a place of solitude, Iʻve been in a balance of going crazy over the things that are in my head while also finding myself in peace and tranquility. 
   Weʻre more than two months in and itʻs about that time that I go through some kind of phase. Iʻve come to the phase where I begin to miss those who play a huge role in my life varying from my ʻohana, a few close friends, and even who my heart desires.
   As time goes by, my heart grows fonder and I become more appreciative of who and what is important to me. There are so many things here that remind me of people and things I hold dear to me whether its a re-occuring thing or something that happens within a single moment. At this point in my journey, as they appear in my mind, I realize the specific role that each special person has in my life. I went from being constantly surrounded by my ʻohana and hoaaloha to being in complete isolation. Although in the beginning my family and friends thought I was pupule for going so far away (from the world), I continue to receive their kākoʻo (support) and aloha (love) as they understand the reason why I do the things I do - even if it means not being able to hear from me for some time. Despite the distance, the simple things they do makes all the difference. For example, my dear friend, Jon, goes out of his way to send lyrics and ʻukulele chords since I donʻt have a book out here. Just a simple thing like that creates an uplift of my spirits. Although it may appear that heʻs helping me just so I can jam, heʻs really helping to free myself from all troubles, untangle the confusion, and to see things with clarity once again. Through music, I feel no pain. So, shoutout to Bossman Brito for being the best-est eva as always! Small things like that make me miss, appreciate, and love those special people in my life even more. Mahalo a nui no ke kākoʻo a me ke aloha ʻana mai iaʻu. Iā ʻoukou pākahi kuʻu aloha pau ʻole. 
   And now for the reason why my train of thought has gone off the tracks these past two weeks.. Although Iʻve been thinking of loved ones, my mind also goes adrift at times and I find myself wading in the open sea of dreams. Thoughts of those from the past reoccur like waves, pulling me under and leaving me restless as I try to make my way back up to the surface, back to reality. I am in between recalling fond memories while also fighting to forget others. Itʻs a push and pull kind of thing. While pushing forward, something that is unknown pulls me backward. This is when confusion comes to play. Iʻm tangled in my thoughts, questioning why Iʻm feeling this way. What is the interpretation for these thoughts and dreams? Why did this certain person or thing come to my mind? I had a lot of questions and after two weeks of my heart and mind fighting each other, Iʻve come to a realization and finally accepted what Iʻve been denying - my feelings, the truth. A lot has to deal with pride, not wanting to come forth and say yeah, I miss that person too despite the current circumstances. When I kept re-writing this blog, I referred these people as the ghosts of my past. But these ghosts were once people. People who played a role in my life at some point whether it was love or friendship. After struggling to find an answer, I now know the source of my current problem is because my mind and gut arenʻt in sync. Sometimes my mind overpowers my gut and thatʻs how I can easily become unsure of things. I just have to remember to follow my naʻau. Just trust the gut! 
   If I could choose a word that describes my experience here, it would be time. Time to learn. Time to realize. Time to change. Time to grow. Isolation on Hōlanikū has created a world in which I have all the time to do so. As time moves on, so does life. After all, itʻs a new day, a new season.
    Well gang, hereʻs to a new kind of blog, a new kind of message. Without the ability to find words to describe the work week, I decided to take you all below the surface and into the deeper truth about what one experiences while living on Hōlanikū. Iʻve recently found myself in a phase, having recollection of fond memories while also battling in between denial and acceptance. Within this certain period, I have learned, realized, changed, and grown. Itʻs all about time. With that being said, hereʻs the ʻōlelo noʻeau that I think best fits this week. Eia ka ʻōlelo noʻeau o kēia pule: “ʻUpu mai nei ke aloha” (A sudden yearning to see a loved one) - Ka Puke ʻŌlelo Noʻeau a Pākuʻi #2883. It is quite true that distance makes a heart grow fonder. Time and isolation has made me come to love and appreciate those special ones in my life. Iʻve also found my mind taking a trip down memory lane because of my naʻau. These people have come to my mind for a reason. Although part of this phase has been a struggle, itʻs just a part of the process for me to ulu aʻe. ʻAʻohe ʻeha, ʻaʻohe ulu. Love. Friendship. Past. Present. Love comes in all forms, times, and places. Whatever situations I find myself in, I continue to grow through love. 

Mahalo a nui no ka heluhelu ʻana. A hui hou a i kēia pule aʻe. K dennnnn

Naʻu,
Aulani 

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

ʻO Hoʻoilo Ka Malama Blog #9

 Blog #9 ʻO Hoʻoilo Ka Malama
                                                                                  Pule 9 (11/27/16-12/3/16)

   Aloha mai e nā maka heluhelu, nā ʻohana, a me nā hoa i nui ke aloha iā Hōlanikū. E like me kēlā mahina i hala aku nei, ʻelua mea i hoʻolauleʻa ʻia i ka pau ʻana o kēia pule. I ka Poʻakolu, ua piha ʻelua mahina o ko mākou noho ʻana i ʻaneʻi. I ka Poʻalima, ua hoʻolauleʻa mākou i ko Eryn lā hānau. Ua piha nā makahiki he iwakāluakūmāwalu iā ia. Uihā! Huʻihuʻi nō i ʻaneʻi i kēia manawa. Ua pā mai ka makani, a ua heleleʻi ka ua. Eia naʻe, ua kō nō ka hana. Ua holo nō ka manawa! Ua hala ka pule ʻeiwa o ko mākou hana ʻana i Hōlanikū nei. Mākaukau mākou no ka pule hou! 

   Howzit kākou! Another week has blown by with the strong and chilly, winter wind. I canʻt believe December is here already. Just like the previous month, we had a few celebrations at the end of our work week. On Wednesday, we completed two months of being here on Hōlanikū. We also celebrated Erynʻs 28th birthday on Friday. Cheering! Andy and Coryna made the most perfect birthday cake for this field season. They constructed a cake made from scratch that resembled an albatrossʻs nest. It was so spot on! The thin, rectangular strips of sponge cake covered in chocolate frosting were the sticks and plants. Green frosting and fondant for the leaves. A pound cake shaped as an egg covered in white fondant, and the best part to make it complete, red spots made by food coloring for the blood when the egg is laid. It was probably the best cake Iʻve ever seen and it was ʻono too. So classic! So my birthdays next.. maybe weʻll try one shaped as an albatross? Nah nah.

   It was a pretty cloudy week. We planned to greet the sun on the first of December, but it was too cloudy. So was the next day and the next one after that. It would also be rainy in the morning and then the sun would pop out in the afternoon. After so much rain these past few weeks, thousands of nohu sprouts are everywhere throughout the island. Uē ka lani, ola ka honua! Guys, the time has come. I have finally put clothes on. Yes, I have transitioned from wearing nothing but a pareu to actually seeking warmth and getting cozy with a flannel, sweatpants, and a beanie. The wind is stronger. The waves are firing around this tiny island. The coral has been washed up higher on the shore. Those are just a few signs that winter has arrived. The air is definitely cooler than the previous weeks. It was around 70 degrees during the day and then it went down to the low 60ʻs at night which is considered cold for us here in Hawaiʻi. Time to bust out the solar shower bags! But small kine hard when thereʻs no sun to even heat it up ah? Gotta either heat up the water in a pot or just suck it up!
   
  Despite the weather conditions, we still managed to treat 35 acres. To start off the week, we checked our AMDRO stations in the areas where big-headed ants were found last month. They were found more towards the south side of the island. We donʻt want those ants here especially since we will eventually have lots of little chicks. We donʻt want those chicks to be eaten alive. ʻAʻole lā! 

Due to some rainy mornings this week, we did alternative tasks such as working in the nursery, checking the seeps for mosquitos, inputting data into the computer, and even cutting some naupaka for an easier access towards the beach since a whole bunch of albatross are nesting in that area. We ended the work week by conducting a monk seal and shorebird survey. RJ did the interior shorebird survey while Andy, Eryn, Coryna and I split the island in half and worked in pairs starting from opposite sides. It was really funny that Andy had just finished telling me about how some albatross are found trying to sit on a buoy thinking that itʻs an egg. And sure enough, as we made our way to our last sector (Sector 1, Northwest of the island) we saw a Black-footed Albatross struggling to sit on a small, round buoy. It was having a difficult time trying to find the perfect position. As it did, it found itself leaning towards one side with the buoy poking out by its belly, or the buoy slipping out from under its tail. It was hilarious. 

   I know I always say everything here is so beautiful, but letʻs talk about the not-so-pretty side of this experience. We did find a mōlī (Laysan Albatross) that had a fishing line wrapped around its leg. While Andy held the mōlī, Coryna and RJ removed the line and then it was set free. Sure, glass balls are cool to find but itʻs not nice to find plastics, ropes, line and much more that can be an entanglement or choking hazard for the animals both of land and sea. Although this is a very beautiful place, a sanctuary for such beautiful plants and animals, we also face the harsh reality of the effects when a world is careless or unaware of how its waste can affect the environment. I know I always say aloha ʻāina dis, aloha ʻāina dat, but I really mean it. Here on Hōlanikū, weʻre reminded every single day of why itʻs important to take care of our belongings. I know we canʻt clean up everything all at once, but we can each do our part in doing so in our own personal lives even if itʻs a simple thing like picking up some trash on the beach. Any little thing will make a big difference. That lighter you picked up saved a bird from choking on it. That fishing line you took out of the water saved a honuʻs (turtle) neck from getting entangled it in. So I say it with meaning and I say it with truth, e mālama i ka ʻāina (care for the land). E mālama i ke kai (care for the sea). And reduce, reuse, recycle brat!
 
   Well, another week blew by with the wind and the rain has washed a clean slate for us to start a new week and the month of December. We have completed our ninth week and second month of being here on Hōlanikū. Time is definitely soaring past us just as the albatross shoot through the sky like jets. The chilly wind, rain, and air has forced us to seek comfort in our layered clothes and warm blankets. As each week goes by, it sinks in even more that winter has arrived. Itʻs crazy to see how these albatross can withstand all the elements. He kupaianaha nō! Anyways, weʻre ready for whatʻs in store for us as we enter a new month. Well gangeh weʻve come to the end of this blog. As usual Iʻll leave you with an ʻōlelo noʻeau for the week. Eia ka ʻōlelo noʻeau o kēia pule: “Kāpeku ka leo o ke kai, ʻo hoʻoilo ka malama” (When the voice of the sea is harsh, the winter months have come) - Ka Puke ʻŌlelo Noʻeau a Pākuʻi #1536. The strong winds create a whistling sound through our windows while shaking the wooden bunk house. The wind is blowing, waves are crashing on the reef that surrounds the lagoon and waves that are firing inside the lagoon can be heard from all sides of the island. Storms. Showers. Surges. Winter is full of excitement! 

Mahalo a nui no ka heluhelu a me ke kākoʻo ʻana mai! A hui hou a i kēia pule aʻe. K den menpachis

Naʻu,
Aulani