I got an email from Koko asking about inviting Ryan and Jon to the blog, and that made me realize I haven't blogged in a very long time. It's hard to keep track of all these online duties: gmail, facebook, blogging. if only they were all rolled up into one. we need to figure out how to get Mark on a Rock's blog linked to our Nice Wrentits blog. Then it would be a one-stop for all blogs. Somehow this must be possible.
and now, for a Sus update. I am an intern (sigh) at the Keauhou Bird Conservation Center in Volcano, Hawaii. There is indeed a volcano just down the road; the Halema'uma'u crater is spewing large billowing clouds of sulphur dioxide into the air, but luckily it's usually downwind of us. On the days when the tradewinds die and the plume's fumes come drifting surreptitiously into our midst, throats burn and people cough. It's a crazy reminder that this island is active! just under the surface, only about 300m down below the crust broils a lake of red hot magma (said in the voice of Dr. Evil).
There are so many exciting things developing right now. First of all, I get to work with (or rather, work for, since I feel at times like a janitor, at other times like a chef) the Hawaiian Crow, or Alala. The Hawaiians created some of the first bird mnemonics, naming the birds after the sounds they made. Thus, we have "Elepaio," "I'iwi," and "Ua'u," among others. Although the Alala have an enormous repertoir, they do have a yodeling caw that creates their name. We have 46 of the remaining 58 crows here at KBCC. All of the crows are in captivity, either here or at the sister station on Maui. You know a species is endangered when you know all the individuals' names. The chicks from last year are named Ka'apeha, Poliahu, Halina and Nanea. Yesterday I watched Ka'apeha hang in the air off his perch using only his bill, then he grabbed the branch and hung upsidedown, clutching the perch with his feet. These four are endlessly amusing. They nearly succeeded in digging and pecking their way into the adjoining aviary before the humans discovered this project and ruined it by boarding it up.
I went to the Hakalau open house last weekend where I saw Akepa, Akiapola'au family groups, and Hawaii Creeper all in the same tree! The next day I went with some state biologists to help outplant an extremely rare native Lobelioid (likely pollinated by the extinct Mamo and likely dispersed by the Alala!). Next month I'll go mist-netting with a friend who is studying plumage variation in the Amakihi, a fairly common honeycreeper. And I have a very interesting grad school prospect: working with a researcher who does native Hawaiian bird ecology projects at Colorado State. I worked with her this spring and summer and she is such an interesting and nice person. There are some very cool project possibilities, including native seed germination after passing through birds' digestive systems. Tomorrow I think I'll plant some Ohelo berry plants (related to the blueberry) in the Nene's (Hawaiian goose) pen. He'll appreciate those plants once they start fruiting.
So, things are great! I do miss you all, and California and the Wrentits seem so far away. If you ever feel inclined, or are on your way to New Zealand or Asia, please stop by!
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Monday, August 4, 2008
Mr. D's Update
Hello everyone,
Sounds like The Sus is having a blast (I tried to find the song "Quail" online but was unsuccessful). I'm back at Dogtown after another season in Modesto. The season went well, except for the insubordination of my crew (Irene and Codie). We made the best of life in Modesto and managed to have some fun. I'll be around Marin for the fall/winter working on reports then back to Modesto for another field season next spring, yippie. I know what a few of you are up to, but everyone should post a small update.
There was a small Palo spring/summer '07 reunion on the Fourth of July. Koko (and myself) came in from Modesto, Gouldii (and Anna "The Steve" Stephenson) came down from Redding, Krantzzzz (and "The Terrible") came in from San Francisco, Scibby were of course here, and amazingly Gunther made a detour on his was back to NY from San Diego. Quite crazy. Ended the night with a dance party forced upon us by Koko. Good times.
Mark
Sounds like The Sus is having a blast (I tried to find the song "Quail" online but was unsuccessful). I'm back at Dogtown after another season in Modesto. The season went well, except for the insubordination of my crew (Irene and Codie). We made the best of life in Modesto and managed to have some fun. I'll be around Marin for the fall/winter working on reports then back to Modesto for another field season next spring, yippie. I know what a few of you are up to, but everyone should post a small update.
There was a small Palo spring/summer '07 reunion on the Fourth of July. Koko (and myself) came in from Modesto, Gouldii (and Anna "The Steve" Stephenson) came down from Redding, Krantzzzz (and "The Terrible") came in from San Francisco, Scibby were of course here, and amazingly Gunther made a detour on his was back to NY from San Diego. Quite crazy. Ended the night with a dance party forced upon us by Koko. Good times.
Mark
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
By the way...
Has anyone heard of the Banana Slug String Band? They're a children's music group out of Santa Cruz and they're crazy. I just saw the song "Quail" in my iTunes, and I think it would have made an excellent addition to our Palo prom playlist. Mark, I think you particularly would find that song amusing.
And just for the record, Bare Naked Ladies' new children's album, "Snacktime" is excellent, even or especially for adults.
It's obvious I've been working with kids in the recent past.
And just for the record, Bare Naked Ladies' new children's album, "Snacktime" is excellent, even or especially for adults.
It's obvious I've been working with kids in the recent past.
Palila blog
Hey all,
I hope everyone is doing very well. If you want to read more of my bird stories from Hakalau and beyond (I'll be working at Keauhou Bird Conservation Center this fall--where they do captive rearing and release of severely endangered Hawaiian birds like the 'Alala, or Hawaiian Crow), check out my blog and photos at:
http://palilabird.blogspot.com/
http://picasaweb.google.com/
I miss y'all and hope our paths cross again at some point. If any of you find yourselves out in Hawaii (when kiteboarding is the new sustainable and affordable way to cross the pacific, just ask my brother), I would love to help you track down Akiapola'au and Palila.
Much Aloha,
Susan
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Pueo
We were walking down on corridor Long, having left the corridor in the pasture and gotten into the forest points. The forest points are always the most difficult since you no longer have the obvious gulch or planted corridor to follow when in doubt. And the forest is wonderfully messy with sprawling logs, dense patches of ohelo bushes laden with red berries asking to be picked. The GPS often jumps around, unsure of itself under the tall canopy. So our paths to the two forest points meander. Annie was leading and she took a turn down into a little nook where she flushed a Pueo out from underfoot. The silent bird spread its striped wings and glided across an open patch in the forest.
"Pueo!" I whispered loudly, frantically trying to unhook my binocular strap from where it was hooked on my backpack buckle. I got the optics up to my eyes and studied the perfection in the Pueo's movement.
"What was that?" Annie asked.
"Pueo, the Hawaiian Short-eared Owl," I clarified.
"It was so silent!" she observed.
I agreed, "and think about how terribly loud those Erckel's Francolins and Turkeys are when they take wing. This guy was completely silent." I was still awed by our sighting. How were owls ever omens of bad luck? Maybe people find their noiseless mystery unnerving. But to me, owls are always a mesmerizing blessing.
I paused to write our sighting down on my point count notebook, then we continued hacking out way through the dense underbrush and wading through the waist-high seed-infested golden grass. We left a wake in the meadow and Pueo watched our labored progress from the darkness of an afternoon shadow.
"Pueo!" I whispered loudly, frantically trying to unhook my binocular strap from where it was hooked on my backpack buckle. I got the optics up to my eyes and studied the perfection in the Pueo's movement.
"What was that?" Annie asked.
"Pueo, the Hawaiian Short-eared Owl," I clarified.
"It was so silent!" she observed.
I agreed, "and think about how terribly loud those Erckel's Francolins and Turkeys are when they take wing. This guy was completely silent." I was still awed by our sighting. How were owls ever omens of bad luck? Maybe people find their noiseless mystery unnerving. But to me, owls are always a mesmerizing blessing.
I paused to write our sighting down on my point count notebook, then we continued hacking out way through the dense underbrush and wading through the waist-high seed-infested golden grass. We left a wake in the meadow and Pueo watched our labored progress from the darkness of an afternoon shadow.
Hakalau Forest
I am living at the U. of Hawaii field station at Hakalau Forest National Wildlife Refuge for ten days at a time this summer. On my weekends I head back over to Volcano where I stay at my dad's house. There are two interns with me: Anh Nguyet and Annie, both very nice and capable people, undergrads at Stanford. This is their first field experience, so they are still learning GPS and compass use, and how to hike around the forest without a trail (a real skill! I tell them).
This morning I woke up at 4:40, ate a breakfast of almond-banana oatmeal, and then we piled in the truck. I drove down to corridor "Grove" where we got out and followed our GPS to our first point, CG+16. A blue-and-white striped flag marked the exact spot that Liba had worked at last year. Anh and Annie put out the bug pan traps which are ostensibly 6 plastic bowls of 3 colors: two yellow, two blue, two white. They filled the traps half-full with slightly soapy water. The reflective surface of the water attracts insects, and I guess the different colors attract different types of arthropods. The slimy soap in the water makes it difficult for the bugs to get out again, and so they are sacrificed to science. Tomorrow we will go back to each of the points we left traps at and collect the bugs, now specimens, for identification later on. This will allow researchers to know what kind of arthropods are living at Hakalau. Liba is particularly interested in knowing how many native bees, genus Hylaeus, are around, and if they're doing okay or if they're declining.
I let the interns set out the traps, then they move on to the next point, 150m downhill. Once they've disappeared and their rustling has moved on, I begin my 8minute bird point count. For 8min I stand quietly and record every bird I see or hear, trying to keep track of those I've already counted (no easy feat, try keeping track of Japanese White-eyes bubbling around in a Koa tree!). This morning's point count of 10 points was a little slow. At several stations I only had three species: Amakihi, Japanese White-eyes and Northern Cardinals. Two other birds I counted a lot were Wild Turkeys, blabbling in the distance, and Erckel's Francolins, a chicken-sized ground bird who likes to startle hikers by suddenly bursting into the air with an explosion of wing beats from where you were about to put your foot.
The mornings are cool here, and the sun makes the distant clouds blush over Hilo town, far below us. The mountain top to our west begins to glow long before the sun hits our elevation. By 8am though, the sun is beating down and hiking gets hot. The shade remains cool and pleasant all day, however.
Yesterday I was helping to collect the samples from the pan traps down in the forest and I heard a descending ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee, like the Amakihi squeaky sewing-machine song, but with a distinct downward movement, a Hawaii Creeper! One of the three main endangered birds here at Hakalau. Then, from a little farther off I heard the jijit, double begging call of a young HACR. I smiled in their direction, but I had a bowl full of floating dead bugs in my lap, a vial with alcohol in one hand, and a pair of tweezers in the other hand, so I couldn't get up to go find them. I bent back down to my work and finished quickly. On my way back to the road, I heard a little two-note squeak, and looked up to see a chunky dull yellow bird with hardly a tail jumping around the large branches of a meandering Koa tree. I popped my bins up and saw the distinctive bill of an Akiapola'au, with a long curved upper mandible and the stout woodpecker-like lower mandible. The Aki peered at me then leaned over the branch to peek underneath for possible grubs. Another Aki joined the first and they exchanged soft dee-deet calls.
A little brown bird swooped in, as if wanting to know what was going on in this little busy spot in the forest. He spotted me and began whistling "paio! paio! eh-eh-paio!" The little Elepaio flew from one branch to another with a snap of his bill. When he landed, I saw he had an insect in his beak. He shook his head and gobbled down his snack, then hopped along the branch to get a closer look at the tall flightless intruder.
I said goodbye to the forest birds and went back to the road where Anh and Annie were waiting.
This morning I woke up at 4:40, ate a breakfast of almond-banana oatmeal, and then we piled in the truck. I drove down to corridor "Grove" where we got out and followed our GPS to our first point, CG+16. A blue-and-white striped flag marked the exact spot that Liba had worked at last year. Anh and Annie put out the bug pan traps which are ostensibly 6 plastic bowls of 3 colors: two yellow, two blue, two white. They filled the traps half-full with slightly soapy water. The reflective surface of the water attracts insects, and I guess the different colors attract different types of arthropods. The slimy soap in the water makes it difficult for the bugs to get out again, and so they are sacrificed to science. Tomorrow we will go back to each of the points we left traps at and collect the bugs, now specimens, for identification later on. This will allow researchers to know what kind of arthropods are living at Hakalau. Liba is particularly interested in knowing how many native bees, genus Hylaeus, are around, and if they're doing okay or if they're declining.
I let the interns set out the traps, then they move on to the next point, 150m downhill. Once they've disappeared and their rustling has moved on, I begin my 8minute bird point count. For 8min I stand quietly and record every bird I see or hear, trying to keep track of those I've already counted (no easy feat, try keeping track of Japanese White-eyes bubbling around in a Koa tree!). This morning's point count of 10 points was a little slow. At several stations I only had three species: Amakihi, Japanese White-eyes and Northern Cardinals. Two other birds I counted a lot were Wild Turkeys, blabbling in the distance, and Erckel's Francolins, a chicken-sized ground bird who likes to startle hikers by suddenly bursting into the air with an explosion of wing beats from where you were about to put your foot.
The mornings are cool here, and the sun makes the distant clouds blush over Hilo town, far below us. The mountain top to our west begins to glow long before the sun hits our elevation. By 8am though, the sun is beating down and hiking gets hot. The shade remains cool and pleasant all day, however.
Yesterday I was helping to collect the samples from the pan traps down in the forest and I heard a descending ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee, like the Amakihi squeaky sewing-machine song, but with a distinct downward movement, a Hawaii Creeper! One of the three main endangered birds here at Hakalau. Then, from a little farther off I heard the jijit, double begging call of a young HACR. I smiled in their direction, but I had a bowl full of floating dead bugs in my lap, a vial with alcohol in one hand, and a pair of tweezers in the other hand, so I couldn't get up to go find them. I bent back down to my work and finished quickly. On my way back to the road, I heard a little two-note squeak, and looked up to see a chunky dull yellow bird with hardly a tail jumping around the large branches of a meandering Koa tree. I popped my bins up and saw the distinctive bill of an Akiapola'au, with a long curved upper mandible and the stout woodpecker-like lower mandible. The Aki peered at me then leaned over the branch to peek underneath for possible grubs. Another Aki joined the first and they exchanged soft dee-deet calls.
A little brown bird swooped in, as if wanting to know what was going on in this little busy spot in the forest. He spotted me and began whistling "paio! paio! eh-eh-paio!" The little Elepaio flew from one branch to another with a snap of his bill. When he landed, I saw he had an insect in his beak. He shook his head and gobbled down his snack, then hopped along the branch to get a closer look at the tall flightless intruder.
I said goodbye to the forest birds and went back to the road where Anh and Annie were waiting.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Bad luck but great birds
After losing my plane ticket, my computer broke, my drivers lisence expired, and my binoculars broke. I'm glad I don't have a car anymore because if I did it would break down tomorrow. But, as devastating as the binocular breakage is, I'm very lucky indeed to be doing what I'm doing right now.
We've only been banding twice so far, but will be doing so for the next two months up in the kipuka on the saddle road of the Big Island. Liba, the Stanford postdoc, warned us that we probably would only be catching a handful of birds each day (as in, 1 would be exciting). But today we caught 12 plus a recap. Mostly Red-billed Leiothrix, but several I'iwi, a Japanese White-eye and a Hawaii Amakihi. The I'iwi are cool to look at head-on; their bills are so curved and delicately thin. The family of honeycreepers, Drepanidinae, has a distinct birdy smell. We're color-banding, and will spend most afternoons re-sighting, which is one of the main reasons why my binoculars breaking is so unfortunate.
It's also just so wonderful to be working out in the vegetation islands surrounded by lava. I can look through the Ohi'a and Koa trees to see the hyper-white cloud bank moving up the slopes of Mauna Kea, rolling up towards the round astronomy observatories perched on the summit. The sense is similar to the cloud bank moving into Palo or engulfing the golden gate bridge, but with starker scenery.
We've only been banding twice so far, but will be doing so for the next two months up in the kipuka on the saddle road of the Big Island. Liba, the Stanford postdoc, warned us that we probably would only be catching a handful of birds each day (as in, 1 would be exciting). But today we caught 12 plus a recap. Mostly Red-billed Leiothrix, but several I'iwi, a Japanese White-eye and a Hawaii Amakihi. The I'iwi are cool to look at head-on; their bills are so curved and delicately thin. The family of honeycreepers, Drepanidinae, has a distinct birdy smell. We're color-banding, and will spend most afternoons re-sighting, which is one of the main reasons why my binoculars breaking is so unfortunate.
It's also just so wonderful to be working out in the vegetation islands surrounded by lava. I can look through the Ohi'a and Koa trees to see the hyper-white cloud bank moving up the slopes of Mauna Kea, rolling up towards the round astronomy observatories perched on the summit. The sense is similar to the cloud bank moving into Palo or engulfing the golden gate bridge, but with starker scenery.
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