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.