By Louie Ferrera

On the cusp of winter solstice a  cold winter light filters through the mostly bare branches of our fruit trees, the golden glow of autumn has all but faded away. Out here on our deck just before sunrise everything is coated in a thin dusting of frost. I can slide across the new redwood boards like a skater. This is as close as we ever come to snow, these Jack Frost mornings. The western sky is slowly turning blue, the east is aglow with the light of the rising sun, the waxing crescent moon looks down on me, a sideways smile. One of these mornings soon, the moon and Venus will meet and do their wintry do-si-do sky dance.

Our fountains are all partially frozen, small icicles, tiny fingers of frozen water, are suspended from the spigots, thin films of ice have formed where the water stream isn’t hitting. My exhalations produce small, white clouds because it’s cold…29 degrees! It’s much too cold for the birds who no doubt are still roosting in the relative warmth of the evergreen cypress trees that form a border with our back fence neighbors. When the sun breaks the horizon, that’s when their day will begin. I walk across the lawn with a crunch, crunch as the soles of my slippers break through the newly formed layer of frost. The remaining leaves  on the apple tree are all outlined in white silvery crystals, like snowflakes each one is different. The cold and the frost and this peaceful Sunday morning combine to produce real quiet. The Earth is holding its breath.

Now the sun begins to break through the redwood and eucalyptus trees in our next door neighbor’s yard. For a short time the deck  looks like a sauna, the frost turns to sheets of water vapor, rising into the air as it melts. When the sun hits the deck railing, the frost covered wood shimmers with the light of a thousand diamonds, each minute ice crystal picks up its share of sunlight and reflects it back in a dazzling jewel-like display of star sparkle.

This is a fleeting spectacle, gone as soon as the sun gets strong enough to completely melt the frost. Moments like these are precious. Not only do you need to be in the right place at the right time, but more importantly your eyes must be wide open and your heart ready to receive the grace when it’s presented to you. Being an early riser has its benefits, especially on a morning such as this. If you’re not noticing, you’ll miss the miracles, miracles that are occurring all the time, all around us.

By Louie Ferrera

At a beach on Kauai’s south shore, turtles and tourists share the sand.

The Hawaiian green sea turtle is a year round resident of the Hawaiian islands. These massive reptiles can be seen gracefully plying the waters all throughout the islands. The highlight of any snorkeling trip is coming face to face with a turtle, their flippers move as if in slow motion and they appear to be flying through the undersea blue. While standup paddleboarding along the beach on Maui I’ve had the good fortune on many occasions to glide alongside a green sea turtle, their intricately patterned shells visible just below the surface, their heads popping up every so often to take a breath. These turtles get very big. Their shells can be upwards of four feet long and they can weigh upwards of 250 pounds.

If you don’t want to get into the water, the main beach at Poipu, on Kauai’s south shore, affords us tourists a unique opportunity to observe green sea turtles up close. As sunset approaches, turtles begin to slowly crawl out of the water and onto this sandy beach to rest for the evening. This is Carol’s and my first time visiting Kauai in winter. Our past trips have always been in June. The turtles are here in summer but in much smaller numbers. The most we’ve seen on this beach at any one time has been five or six.

It’s our first night here, so down to the beach we head at sunset with drinks in hand and smiles on our faces. Needless to say we were quite surprised to find a dozen turtles already tucked into the beach for the night. We watched in awe as one after the other turtles began to emerge from the water. Whereas they’re as graceful underwater as birds in flight, once on the sand their movements are slow and laborious. They use all four of their flippers to slowly inch their way onto the beach until they find a spot to their liking. By the time it got too dark to make them out clearly, we counted perhaps 40 turtles at rest. They were packed so closely together, the beach appeared to be strewn with large boulders. Seeing so many turtles in such a small space was an incredible experience. We found out the next morning that eventually over 70 turtles spent the night here. 

A team of volunteer docents staff the beach day and night, setting up a coned perimeter to keep people at least ten feet away from the resting honu (Hawaiian word for turtle). They also answer questions, solicit donations and provide information about these gentle creatures. 

The Hawaiian green sea turtle is a threatened species, it is protected by state and federal laws. By habitat destruction, hunting and dumping trash into the ocean, humans have been instrumental in their listing as threatened. It’s ironic that the honu on Poipu Beach find a safe haven here among the very species that have done them so much harm. By showing up in such large numbers every night, maybe the turtles are here to teach us humans a lesson in forgiveness? Given the opportunity to interact up close with such marvelous animals, you can’t help but gain a deeper appreciation for them and their place in the grand scheme of things. 

I think coming here to pay our respects, as it were, is a way for us humans to atone  for the harm that we’ve caused. Meanwhile the evening deepens, the turtles keep coming , one by one slowly emerging from the water, a timeless mystery.

By Louie Ferrera

Outside our little garden cottage just off the beach in Hanalei on the island of Kauai the white-rumped shama greets the day with its happy song. Our bedroom slowly begins to fill with light, sunrise is still an hour or so away and the shama is already in fine voice letting me know in no uncertain terms that the promise of a new day is before us. 

This handsome little thrush is a common sight in backyards and in the lush rainforests of  the “Garden Isle”. With its black head, rust colored breast, white rump patch and long thin tail this bird is unmistakable. Robin sized, the shama can be found foraging among the leaf litter  in search of food or perched low in a bush or tree wagging its slender tail up and down. Birdsong is difficult to describe, but if there were an onomatopoetic  word for the sound of tranquility, the shama’s melodious whistle would be it. The shama’s song is just one piece of the mosaic that makes up the peaceful soundscape in our neighborhood. Another is that of the chicken.

One of the most endearing aspects of Kauai is the fact that chickens here are feral. It’s nearly impossible to go anywhere on the island without seeing a chicken or three scurrying about. One story I’ve heard is that several decades ago a strong hurricane  destroyed certain chicken coops on the island and many of those birds escaped. The chickens we see wandering everywhere today are the descendants of those escapees. Chickens really are beautiful birds. Seeing so many of them up close, I’m struck by the dazzling variety of colors and textures in their feathers. As I write this a large rooster is strutting across the lawn in front of me. A bright red comb sweeps back from the top of its’ head in an Elvis-like “DA”. Its’ cinnamon head and neck and dark rainbow-hued body all blend into a spot on children’s book example of a rooster. Of course the shama’s voice isn’t the only one that welcomes the dawn here on Kauai. Where its’ call is sweet and musical, the rooster’s scratchy, rusty hinges opening on a metal door screech says in no uncertain terms, “I’m up pal, time for you to roust your lazy bones out of bed too!”

A third part to this morning choir is the zebra dove. This bird is ubiquitous and easy to take for granted until you get a glimpse of it up close. A soft shade of powder blue highlights its’ small, round head. Thin, dark stripes begin at its’ slender neck, wrapping around its’ body in concentric circles. What a gorgeous bird! The zebra dove can be heard at all hours of the day singing its’ smooth, rapidly bouncing whistle of a song. It’s usually the first bird that I hear when dawn begins to lighten the sky, and the sound that I most associate with Kauai.

Rounding out this quartet is the common myna. This jaunty, black, crow-sized bird is literally everywhere. The myna is full of attitude, strutting around lawns and gardens like it owns the joint. The yellow “spectacles” around its’ eyes and yellow down-curving bill give the myna an extra dose of “What are you looking at?”  Like the zebra dove, the chattering cackle of the myna can be heard at all hours of the day. In contrast to the soothing songs of the shama and dove, the myna is more in line with the jarring screech of the rooster.

This is our eighth trip in the past ten years to Hanalei, land of Puff and dazzling rainbows; tranquil beaches and laid back island vibes. Coming here always feels like coming home. Having such familiarity with the sights and sounds of the local avian community is the best kind of welcome mat.