Harry Abromowicz waits for her each fall, the slim, leggy female who wings her way over from more northern climes. He knows he’ll find her at the same time each year, tripping daintily along the damp sands of the south shore beach he and his wife, Ida, frequent. They’re retirees from Canada who well understand O‘ahu’s climatic allure. Ida doesn’t mind a bit when her husband’s attentions wander.
Harry and Ida are among O‘ahu’s plover lovers, fans of the shy, spindly-legged birds who migrate to Hawai‘i each fall. You’ll see them poised along roadsides, skittering along the shoreline, always alone, always, as plover devotees know, in their customary spots.
These dignified birds follow summer halfway across the world after hatching their young in Alaska. The kiddies fly over a few weeks later, though not all are lucky enough to find these specks of land in the middle of the broad Pacific. Then the tawny little loners spend the Hawai‘i winter fattening up for the flight home.
Gretchen West, a sixth-grade teacher at Soto Academy in Nu‘uanu, always looks forward to the plovers’ return.
"I love pointing them out to the kids. One hangs on the roof for some reason," said West. "We calculate their flight distance from Alaska, about 5,000 miles, then we watch them change gradually into their winter plumage — it’s like someone puts a vest on them, a white line around them, their face and breast goes black and their backs go brown. They look like a totally different bird."
Birds aren’t the only beasts West’s students watch. Each winter she totes them to Queen’s Beach to observe the whales.
"There are ways of making kids more aware of what’s around them, and more appreciative of the environment and the need for green space," said West.
A friend who suns her parrot at Kapi‘olani Park swears that the same plover returns there each year. She thinks the fact that she has a parrot has put the plover at ease. When addressed, it used to skitter shyly away. Now it lingers and makes eye contact.
Last winter, I watched a plover play tag with the shorebreak at ‘Ehukai Beach. I was worried that the white water would swallow it up, but it deftly darted out of harm’s way.
So keep your eyes peeled for these elegant winter guests. By spring, they’ll be donning their formal attire. By summer, the solitary critters will have gathered into a flock, spiraled skyward and begun winging their way north.
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