This pair of house finches, the male on the left and female on the right, was flitting about Pu’uhonua o Hōnaunau National Historical Park. They’re common birds here, as in many other places, but there’s something about this photo that I’m really happy with.
For more information about Pu’uhonua o Hōnaunau National Historical Park, visit https://www.nps.gov/puho/index.htm.
A fern gets a toehold in a field of lava. I like the resilience of the fern, daring to grow in such a hostile place. I also like the texture of the lava, a hard rock and yet crumbly as well. I can almost hear it crunching underfoot.
There’s satisfaction in reaching the end of the highway. Highway 270, also known as Akoni Pule Highway, ends at the Pololu lookout. From there, a steep trail leads down to Pololu beach and valley. Parking at the end of the road is tight and there’s no good place to turn around, but plans are afoot for a new parking area and toilets about a hundred yards up the road. If and when that happens it will be a marked improvement on the current setup.
This small boat, chugging along the North Kohala coast, kept disappearing, then popping up again. As a marker of the action of waves and swell, it always catches my attention, possibly because I’ve been in that situation many times myself.
Waimanu is one of the few Hawaiian monk seals that live permanently around the Big Island. She has given birth to three pups, each time in the vicinity of Keokea Park in North Kohala. All three pups died, one from swallowing a fish hook when a few months old, the other two while still with their mother on the beach.
We’ll see if she returns to the park again this year for another go.
Mālama ‘Āina means to care for the land, an important concept in Hawaiian life, an important concept for everyone. This sign was near Kiholo campground.
Ho’okena is a small community about 20 miles south of Kailua Kona. It’s a popular spot for its beach park, which features a beautiful sandy beach in a fairly sheltered bay. It was less popular toward the end of 2015 when it was one of the hotspots for the dengue fever outbreak of that winter.
Photographing birds is always a challenge for me, especially when they’re in flight. Hawaiian noddies are tricky because they tend to skim the water as they fly along the coast. When I do see them, they’re usually as close as they’re going to get and, by the time I have my camera organized, the best I can hope for is a blurry photo of some tail feathers.
What was unusual on this day was that, while I saw the noddy in about the same relative position as I had other times, it was higher up, dipping below the cliff and then climbing up again. As it was heading into the wind, it was making slow progress and I thought I had a chance. But each time I was about to get the bird in shot and in focus, it would slide away again. However, each time it reappeared, it got closer to where I was.
Where I was standing, the cliff dipped toward me, and when the bird swooped in to that recess (still evading my camera) I felt sure I would be able to capture it when it flew out again. I was ready, I was focused, but no bird. I was pretty sure it hadn’t sneaked by, out of sight. Then I realized that the chances were I’d stumbled on the bird’s roost. I couldn’t see the cliff face so I waited and a few minutes later two noddies flew out, circled around, and returned to the cliff.
Eventually, four birds came out, and while they looked a similar size, I suspect two of them were chicks that were about ready for independent life. It was still a challenge getting the birds in the frame, and I didn’t help myself by switching my focus from one bird to thinking I could get all four in shot, and back again.
In the end, I was happy to have a few decent photos and more happy to have had the time just watching them circling and swooping, dipping and diving, before swinging back to their roost.
Graham's Island 