I once had a dream, shortly after starting my Kupu term with NARS, that I was a yellow bird.
I was flying through the forest.
I was free.
July 19, 2025 was the first time I ever got to see Palila on the mauna. It was the only honeycreeper on Hawaiʻi Island that I had yet to meet in the wild.
Could it possibly be the yellow bird from my dream?
I remember the day well.
The hike kicked my ass. But the air was fresh and the wind was friendly. I’ve always felt I’ve had some sort of advantage at high altitudes, having been born at seven thousand feet, give or take.
The day turned out advantageous all around.
Brendan and I were accompanied by friends from Kauaʻi and guided by an additional friend who, at the time, held the field tech position I currently hold today. In other words, we had the insider scoop.
It didn’t take long. Tipped off first by the lilting whistles my ears have grown so accustomed to since.
Recordings never do the songs justice, so this was the true-blue first for my ears: hearing Palila sing.
Instantly, the group scattered, rushing after the birds through māmane and naio trees, over uneven lava rock.
Overhead, two Palila flew.
We followed them, down a bit, up a bit.
And then, of course, my favorite tactic:
We waited.
Several times the Palila came back, as if by not following them, they trusted it was safe to return.
This pair was very generous, to say the least. More than once, I found myself within a meter or so of a bird looking down at me.
Brendan had lent me his SLR, so I got to snap a few shots of my first encounter with the yellow birds.
Of course, the film was black and white, so there is no yellow. And the lens was nowhere near long enough to capture such small songbirds.
Still, the memories are preserved and cherished all the same.
We had suspicions about a certain naio tree they were hanging around. Could it have been a potential nest tree? We’ll never know.
But I’ll always remember that tree.
For behind it, I knelt and said my first prayer on the leeward side of Maunakea.
My words my only offering.
I pray that this mountain continue to nourish me, and that in turn I may learn to nourish it.
