The View from Here
Study in the Sun on a Desert Island:
My Adventures on the Northwestern Hawaii Islands
Part IV
Lynne K. Fukuda
University of Hawaii at Hilo
Distance Learning Specialist
E-mail: lfukuda@hawaii.edu
As in all adventures and in fieldwork, the participant comes away with something. As a young researcher, I matured and learned about the ways of nature and the greater world. As humans living in what we call civilization, we are unfortunately separated from nature. Our ancestors hunted and gathered animals and resources of the natural world. In their daily lives, they observed nature and the behavior of animals until they neither feared nature, nor treated nature unwisely.
There are three basic rules that native people and our ancestors abided by when relating to the natural world: love and respect nature, do not take too much, for there is punishment, and give back to nature. These were the ancient laws of conservation. The ancient Hawaiians worshiped nature and its creatures because they, too, were part of nature. Sea turtles, that provided their much needed protein, were not harvested very often. Monk seals on their beaches slept undisturbed by humans. Seabirds were not harvested often.
Modern humans do not see the direct affects our eagerness to harvest all and to alter all have on the natural world. Raising domesticated animals, they manipulate the lives and reproduction of the animals to provide food. Growing domesticated crops, they are able to increase and decrease their crops. And yet, our well-being and, ultimately, our survival depends on our delicate interactions with nature. Chemical pollutants, which leach into our oceans, the dumping of waste products at sea, sewage spills, experiments conducted at sea that produce sound, and the burying of radioactive wastes all come to haunt us. They show up in the fish we eat, in our blood and in our fat, making us pass it on to our innocent children. The rapid extinction of species, the depletion of natural resources, and the disappearance of natural areas signals to us that our earth is not as healthy as it used to be.
Sea turtles, too, that have survived for millennia without much disease or accidental deaths, are now dwindling in great numbers because we exposed them to pollutants and to stress. Some drown in fishnets, the unwitting captives that are not considered food, but accidental catches that are dumped back as corpses. Some swallow flotsam that are dumped off cruise ships and other vessels, choking on foreign material that they do not understand or have the ability to digest. Some have tumors that do not heal and eventually blind them and make them succumb to sharks. If undisturbed and undiseased, sea turtles could last for hundreds of years, slowly turning out offspring, most of which are food for hungry predators, and grow in their quiet, peaceful ways, as they drag themselves up the sand on a dark night, digging a nest and laying their eggs, to return to the sea. Their young mature to return to the beaches of their birth to begin the cycle anew. But if humans harm or kill these slow-growing creatures, they will be killed before they mature and reproduce.
Monk seals, too, have disappeared off the face of the Earth everywhere except for the Hawaiian Islands. The Mediterranean Sea, once home to the monk seals and manatees that became the mermaids of old legends are now mythical creatures. The Hawaiian monk seal struggles to survive as land predators, such as dogs, on the main islands harass them, and humans may harm or kill them.
Sea birds, too, are victims of nets and flotsam. Choking or starving to death, these magnificent creatures are no longer free to fly above our islands because there is too much danger. They nest on the ground, easy prey for predators on the main islands. It is only in the Northwestern Hawaiian Islands (NWHI), without the presence of humans, that all three types of creatures and many others can survive into the future and recover their numbers.
I felt proud that I had given back. I had been able to pay for some of the sins of my ancestors who had harvested too much. I respected and loved nature. It is certain that I cannot ever become a child of nature, but I grew to know the ways of the natural world. It is only in the wild that we can truly heal and know ourselves. We are so small on planet Earth, and our troubles are almost nothing. It is the creatures of the wild that bring us joy, hope, and a future. Without them, we are nothing but creatures of destruction.
If we are able to maintain a safe place for other creatures, it becomes a better place for all of us. Our resources are protected, our water, air, and land more pure, and our ecological environment, diverse and healthy as it was always meant to be. It is time for us to listen to the voices of our ancient ancestors, who guarded the Earth because they considered it sacred, and its resources precious.
I was never able to return quite completely to the civilized world of humans. On some nights, I bolt out of my bed when a stream of silvery moonlight hits it. I open the window and gaze out at the landscape. I feel the call of the natural world stirring in my blood. I am restless again for an adventure. I know that I would never become a biologist, but I will always remain a student of nature.
Like the initial shock of adjusting to Tern Island and my desert isle, I felt a shock returning to my human world. It was too busy with humans, cars, buildings, and unnecessary noise. I craved the silence of nature. I missed the squawking of the sea birds, and the grunts of the monk seals, and felt with a tearing pain in my heart, the wish to see and hear the magnificent sea turtle come up the beach, her shell shining in the moonlight, still wet from the water. I was to go on other fieldwork experiences in the years to come.
Even now, the effects of my experiences are irreversible. I drive out to lonely places to be alone with nature on the Big Island, where vast lava fields, pastures, and empty beaches call to me and speak to me of the goodness of Mother Nature. It is here that I come to heal when the human world is unkind. I cry on her shoulders and dry my tears, realizing that my troubles are small, and the daily struggles of wild creatures are more serious than my own. I return to nature from time to time to recharge myself very much like the lazy monk seals and the contented sea turtles on the sacred beaches of the Northwestern Hawaiian Islands.
** This article is dedicated to: Ken Niethammer, George Balazs, Bill Gilmartin, my friends on Tern Island and to the countless researchers and volunteers in the Northwestern Hawaiian Islands who inspired me to do conservation work in my younger years and gave me the privilege of joining their wondrous team. It is also dedicated to all wild creatures of Planet Earth, who continue to nourish us with their purity and inspiration for a better, kinder world. The Earth's natural treasures are for everyone to enjoy, to cherish, and to protect. It is to such places and such creatures that we return to in order to heal. My thanksgiving is to the bounty of the Earth, which, if managed carefully, will last us for millions of years and more. We can ask for no other greater blessing. LKF
Academic Exchange Extra invites reader responses to any writings in this issue--especially articles advancing the scholarly debate of issues raised.
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