In this picture, we see a man diving off Pu’u Keka’a, a 35-foot tall rock at the far north end of Ka’anapali Beach.  I am on Maui attending three days of meetings on behalf of the Hawaiian Monk Seal and Cetacean Stranding Response Network.

OutriggerHawaii and this “View from Here” blog is taking a leap of its own kind today.  We are moving this blog to a new address.  We will now be housed within the overall OutriggerHawaii address:  http://outriggerhawaii.com/blog.aspx.  The page will look slightly different from this one, but otherwise, everything will stay the same.  I (and I am Kim Steutermann Rogers) will still write about my experiences and observations living in and traveling around Hawaii.  You will find all my posts since I started writing this blog at the new address.  Unfortunately, one thing you will not find at the new address are the great comments you have made at this location.  Alas, technology is wonderful, but we haven’t figured out how to pack up and move the comments from one network to another.

I hope you’ll make the move with me.

In order to continue following me, I ask you to:

1) Bookmark the new location:  http://outriggerhawaii.com/blog.aspx; or

2) Re-subscribe to the new RSS feed.  You will find this on the blog’s new home page on the top right-hand side of the page; or

3) Re-subscribe to the new email alert.  Every time I post something new to the blog, you will then be sent a notification by email.  You will find this on the blog’s new home page on the top right-hand side of the page; or

4) If you are so inclined, please feel free to share my blog posts with your friends–on Facebook and other social media networks or by email.

And, as always, please feel free to make comments and ask questions.  I enjoy conversing with you all.

Mahalo,

Kim

 

 It’s liking primping for your first date. 

Our Laysan albatross chicks sit around waiting for mom and dad to fly in with dinner.  The visit lasts all of a few minutes.  So what do the chicks do the rest of the week?  They preen, for one.  And why not?  Especially when these cool, new adult feathers appear.  It’s like the teenager who spends hours looking at himself in the mirror grooming a few, straggly mustache hairs.  It’s not like our chicks have much else to do.  So, they tease out the down–you can see it encircling their nest cup–and wait for the feathers that will see them fledge in a little over a month now.

What I find interesting is the order of the process.  The first of the adult plumage appears on the wings.  Makes sense to me; the wings are key.  Then, the brownish-gray downy fur on the body gives way to a coat of white.

Time.  It tends to slip away all too quickly.

What with the invention of fax machines, the creation of FedEx and now the Internet, text messaging, Twitter and Facebook, we like to think our generation somehow cranked the handle of time too tightly and is now watching it unravel at an unprecedented rate.  And, yet, how do we explain the aphorism “time flies,” perhaps first known in Latin as the expression tempus fugit?  Was the Roman poet Virgil a poor manager of his own time?  Or was he making a statement for all the people of his day, and, thereby, making the passage of time a human experience rather than a 21^st century one?

All I know for sure is there just doesn’t seem to be enough time in the day for me to do all the things I want to do—whether it be check off all the items on my to-do list at work or exercise or go grocery shopping or do laundry or sweep the floors.

I also know I lose track of time when I am at the beach.  Especially when a couple green sea turtles swim by or a Hawaiian monk seal hauls out or wave after perfect wave rolls ashore.  Time is as fleeting as a seal swimming in the sea.

I’ve recently decided the same must be true for all of nature, not just humans.  Take a look at this picture I posted two, short months ago of a Laysan albatross chick.  Note the under-developed wings:

Now, look at this picture I snapped this morning:

Two months ago, the wings were out of proportion for its body, and the same is true today.  However, then, they were too small, and, now, the wings are too large.  When this bird tried to tuck its wings against its body, the wings didn’t snuggle tightly like a perfectly folded work of origami.  No, the wings dragged along behind the bird as if someone had attached adult wings onto a chick’s body.  It felt like I was reading a children’s book trying to figure out, “What’s wrong with this picture?”

In the same two month span, Kaikoa—also known as “Sunrise Seal” transformed from this:

To this:

(Is she winking here?)

Nature helps us mark the passage of time.  When I look and these two sets of pictures and reflect on each animal’s transformation during the same two-month window, I am reminded to make choices.  Every morning, I have the choice of sleeping in, or rising early.  I have the choice of flipping open my laptop and traveling down the rabbit hole—a la Alice in Wonderland—to emails and Facebook, or going for a walk on the beach.  I realize now that no matter what choice I make, time will fly.  Like Virgil and his contemporaries, there will never be enough time in the day to satiate all my appetites.  The key for me, then, is to make the choice—whether it is the computer or the beach—in which time will not only fly, but will disappear altogether, lost.  Then, I know, I will be absorbed in something I love.  Some days that will mean rising early, flipping open the laptop and writing.  Other days, it will be a strolling by an albatross colony with my camera in hand.  The realist in me knows, however, there will be plenty of days in which time just flies.  Days in which I consciously watch the clock tick off its seconds and hours.  Days in which I am not lost in an adventure or a project; I am just doing.  I can only hope the days of lost time outnumber the days of fleeting time.  There’s a difference, you know.

Four days after mom weaned her pup, mom showed up on O’ahu.  Still quite skinny.  I guess mom likes the bright lights of the big city. 

While born on Kaua’i, mom–known as Rocky by the good folks on O’ahu who volunteer their time monitoring the Hawaiian monk seals there–spends her adult life around Diamond Head.  Mind you, this is a 100+ mile journey across open ocean each way.  Yet, this is the second pupping event that she hauled her very large and very pregnant body across the Kaua’i Channel to  birth her youngster on Kaua’i.  Interestingly, she did so on the very beach where she grew up. 

Rocky was born in 2,000 on Maha’ulepu, on Kaua’i’s south shore.  Soon after she was weaned, she was translocated to a more remote beach on the north shore.  This is now where she comes home to birth her young.  Interesting, yes?  Maybe she feels safe and secure here.  Still, what a trek.

Ten days after mom left, a team from NOAA tagged our girl.  Because the scientists put two tags on her–in case one falls off–her official name is A00/A01.  We, however, named her Kaikoa. 

In Hawaiian, one of the translations of “kai” is sea and “koa” is brave.  Days after this girl was born, she tempted the ocean’s waves by making a long swim around a rocky point that left her caretakers on the beach gasping.  She made it fine, however, and today frolics fearlessly in the sea, sporting bright, red tail bling.  I think she likes them.

Watch this video to see the care, craftsmanship and detail involved in  making one of Hawaii’s favorite instruments.

Photography is one of those skills that can be self-taught.  If you don’t think so, take a look at Peter Lik’s work.  His illuminating photography drew me into his gallery at Waikiki Beach Walk last week.  The Australian-born, American-turned citizen has been compared to acclaimed landscape photographer Ansel Adams.  And, oh yeah, Lik is a self-taught master, proving that with a little passion, you never know where you’ll go in life

A few people have asked me questions about the images I captured of “Sunrise Seal” and her mom.  I recently ran across the following press release with useful tips on how to create better vacation photos.  Here it is, in full:

The Society of American Travel Writers (SATW), the world’s largest organization of professional travel journalists and photographers, recently polled its members to come up with the “Top 10” tips to help travelers take better vacation photos.

“With digital cameras, it has never been easier or cheaper to take top quality vacation photos,” states SATW president and broadcast travel journalist, Bea Broda. “However, there are still some things that travelers can do to help them come back with stunning images of their vacation,” she said.

Listed in order of votes with comments from SATW writers and photographers, the “Top 10” tips for better travel photos are:

1. Shoot photos early in the morning and late in the afternoon. Between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m., the sun is overhead and the light is flat. Shooting in early morning and late afternoon will add more color and shadows to your photos, giving more definition to the subject.

“Although morning and late afternoon are considered the best light for making photographs, some exceptions apply. In the Caribbean, for instance, to capture the water at its most electric aquamarine, shoot the seascape from on high, preferably at noon.”– Patricia Borns, maritime and travel writer/photographer

2. Move in close to your subject for impact (too far back and your photo can be too busy). Get close, and then get closer! Fill the frame with your subject.

“Use your camera to record details you would like to remember later such as street signs, place names and menus.” — Shelly Steig, freelance writer and photographer

3. Don’t shoot every photo at eyelevel. Don’t be afraid to get low to the ground or climb up to get a better vantage point.

“Shooting a scene at other than eyelevel can add drama or perspective to an otherwise static setting. Even if you can’t peer through the lens, hold your camera overhead or at waist level and experiment.”– David Swanson, freelance travel writer/photographer

Carry a rubber mouse pad in your camera bag. It will make it easier on your knees and clothing whenever you kneel down for a low camera angle.” — Michele & Tom Grimm, photographers and authors

4. Pay attention to details and distractions in the back of the photo or behind the heads of your subjects. Frequently, a telephone pole or tree is sticking up behind your subject. Move around until there are fewer distractions in the background.

“Don’t rely on your zoom lens to compose your images. You have two feet. Move about for the best angle and composition.” — Dennis Cox, travel photographer, director of Photo Explorer Tours

5. Shoot lots of photos and edit and erase at night. Digital space is cheap. Shoot in the highest res possible.

“Bracket your exposures and remember that if the light is low, you can increase your ISO (the equivalent of being able to change film speed) for every shot.”– Catherine Watson, freelance travel writer

6. Always show a sense of place as to where you are. If in the tropics, frame the photo with palm trees; if in the mountains, frame it with pine trees.

“On cloudy, dreary days, try to include bright colors such as red (a person’s jacket, an umbrella, a sign) in the photo, since reds, oranges, yellows and fuchsias can make a washed-out rainy scene pop with liveliness.”– Susan Farlow, freelance travel writer

7. Shoot important subjects from several different angles and vantage points and with different lens and at different exposures. Take an overall wide shot, a medium range shot and a close up detail shot. Check your photos on site to make sure you have your shot.

“When shooting with a slow shutter speed and no tripod, shoot three quick frames in a row, making a better chance one will come out sharp.” — Michael Ventura, freelance travel photographer

“Remember to shoot verticals as well as horizontal shots. Verticals work best for covers or full single pages.” — Susan Farlow, freelance travel writer

8. Wait before you click! Wait for the clouds to clear, the truck to move away from the front of the cathedral or other distractions to pass.

“Look around you and see what’s happening. If a child with a red balloon is coming around the corner, wait until she runs into your frame.”– Mary Love, freelance travel photographer and writer

9. Put local people in your photos. Ask permission first and try not to pose them. Put people in your photos to give a sense of size and scale.

“Learn the phrase for ‘Smile, please’ in the language of the place where you are traveling, and smile before, during and after you click the shutter.” — Maxine Cass, freelance travel photographer

“After photographing a local, turn your digital camera around and show the image to your subject. Everybody is happy to see what a great photo you just took.” — Annette Thompson, associate travel and livings editor, Southern Living

10. Use fill-flash, even outdoors, to “fill-in” shadows.

“Sometimes you don’t have the option of waiting for the right light. The fill flash will light up a person’s face and remove shadows when the sun is overhead.”– Laurie D. Borman, editorial director, Rand McNally

The Society of American Travel Writers (SATW) is a non-profit professional association that works to promote responsible travel journalism and to provide professional support for its members, including travel journalists, photographers, editors, electronic media, film lecturers, television and film producers, and public relations representatives from the travel industry.

For more information on the Society of American Travel Writers, visit www.satw.org

It was overcast and drizzling when I arrived at sunrise.  The Hawaiian monk seal mom and pup had hauled out before Lloyd and I showed up.  We removed the signs and ropes and walked the long walk to the north end of the beach, where the seals once snuggled alongside a fence we had erected for their protection.  They had long since ditched those digs, favoring spots further south along the beach.  But we didn’t find them at the north end, either.

Lloyd looked at me.  “Do you want to go around the point?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” I answered.

Lloyd is a spry, retired school teacher who continues to teach aikido, a form of Japanese martial arts.  I’ve seen the word “aikido” translated as “the way of unifying with life energy,” and, indeed, I have witnessed Lloyd redirect the anger of someone on the beach who, unheard of to me, didn’t love the seals.

The point Lloyd was referring to is a rocky headland that separates the main beach from a quiet cove on the other side.  Many mornings, we arrived to find the seals missing.  On those morning, Lloyd would scramble around the rocks to find mom and pup lolling in the shallow, calm water of the cove.

For some reason, this morning, Lloyd invited me along, and I accepted.  As we picked our way up and over the slippery rocks along the water’s edge, I noticed coral growing in the shallows.  I saw a few small crabs dart for cover.  And I kept scanning the ocean’s surface for our seals.  After 10 minutes of trying not to slip off the rocks, I spotted a smooth, silver belly in the water.  It was pup.  I scanned the water for mom.  I gazed over the sliver of beach.  I pulled out my binoculars and checked along the rocky, water’s edge.

No mom.  She had left.

This was the day we knew would come.  Mom’s need for food beat out her need to nurture her pup.  And, yet, there is something about seeing a young seal alone.  Especially after watching her snuggle with her mom for so long.  I felt mixed emotions.  I was glad for mom; she needed to eat.  But I wasn’t sad for pup; I knew she’d be fine.  I was sad, because mom’s departure signaled the end of the experience.  I consider it a supreme honor to have witnessed the events of the last 38 days.

The wind barely stirred on this day at sunrise, as a rooster strutted and crowed in the bushes at the edge of the beach.  I’ve noticed a couple things in the past few days.  One, pup is turning grey, especially on her belly.  And, two, pup is not happy with mom.

Pup noses mom’s belly, burrowing her pudgy face deep into mom’s body.  She rotates from teat to teat.  Apparently, she is not getting much milk from mom.  Mom’s energy reserves are probably too depleted to produce pup’s favorite meal.  So, pup squawks and, even, nips mom.  Three times, mom swats pup with her front flipper after a love bite.

As I sit, two spearfishermen wade into the water.  It is low tide.  Directly across from where mom and pup now snooze, I watch as one spearfisher plucks two octopus from the water.  Drats, I think.  Mom would have liked noshing on octopus.

A coast guard plane flies low overhead.  Mom lifts her head to look around, but pup is as still as the air.

When I depart two hours later, pup and mom are sleeping, the two spearfishermen walk the reef, and gentle waves wash ashore.

There are days I’d like to bury my head in the sand:  When the phone rings too much.  When the computer acts wonky.  When my to-do list grows instead of shortens.  I’ve witnessed many adult Hawaiian monk seals bury their heads in the sand.  Here, our mama pops her head out of the sand.  I have no idea why she inched forward with her head pivoted downward so that the sand covered her noggin.  Was it to cool off?  Or to keep the sun out of her eyes?  Or to hide from the stresses of seal life?  Whatever her reason, she didn’tt stay in that position for long.  Maybe only a couple minutes.  She can’t breathe when her head is buried, so she can only stay cocooned in sand for as long as she can hold her breath.  Adult seals can take a breath of air and dive for up to 20 minutes, before surfacing to breathe again.  Our pup’s record breath-hold that I’ve recorded is nearly four minutes.   So far, though, pup hasn’t learned the head-in-the-sand trick.  I’m betting it’s because life is just a day at the beach for her.  No worries of food.  No fear of predators.  No concerns for anyone.  After all, she has mom.  But not for long.  Once mom weans her growing–and might I add, demanding–offspring, I wonder if pup will start burying her head in the sand.

Mom manages these lava rocks at the ocean’s edge just fine.  Pup, on the other hand, sometimes struggles to get over, around and between these road blocks, although she is catching on quickly.

To answer a few questions, we are still betting pup is a female.  She won’t be tagged for another couple weeks (after mom weans her) and until then–when scientists get up close and personal with her–we won’t know for sure.  At this point, with binoculars and telephoto zoom lenses, we can see her four teats.  Like humans, though, males sport teats, too.  The real determinant is whether there is a “penile groove.”  (I know.  I know.  But I didn’t name it that.)  It’s hard to detect even with binoculars.

And as for whether this particular Hawaiian monk seal pup is extra large for her size, the answer is yes and no.  Compared to the pups born in the Northwest Hawaiian Islands–Papahanaumokuakea Marine National Monument, for those of you familiar with the area–our girl is very healthy.  The pups there don’t fare as well as ours, I am told.  Too, once they are weaned, some actually starve to death.  The competition for food is fierce and, unfortunately for the future of these sweet seals, the young ones are not surviving.  Food competition.  Climate change.  Predators.  Marine debris.  These are all threats.  Compared to other monk seals born around Kaua’i, this one may be a tad larger.  When she is tagged, we’ll take measurements and compare.