My front yard birdfeeders are all on or under the red maple tree just outside my office window. That allows me to keep a keen eye on the comings and goings of the birds that frequent the feeders.
The birds really flock to the feeders before and during a snowstorm. The mix of birds includes the ground-feeding White-throated and White-crowned Sparrows and Dark-eyed Juncos. American Goldfinch, Purple Finch, and House Finch dominate the squirrel-proof hanging tube feeders. They also will feed on the ground, savaging for any seeds that drop from the feeders overhead.
If the army of European Starlings arrives, chaos ensues. The desired birds yield to the noisy and aggressive Starlings. That includes the dependable Northern Cardinals, which brighten the scene with their attractive colors. The female’s red-tinged olive feathers keep her camouflaged during nesting time, while her mate stands out in his all-red coat.
As brightly colored as the black-masked male Northern Cardinals are, they are fairly skittish and passive compared to other birds, like the Carolina Wrens and especially the Starlings.
The male Northern Cardinal in the photo waited on a branch above the feeding frenzy, awaiting an opportunity to fuel up undisturbed. That allowed me to capture the brilliant red in the falling snow.
My wife and I moved to Virginia’s lovely Shenandoah Valley seven and a half years ago. We wanted to be close to our three grandchildren, who were approaching their active teen years. We thought watching them play soccer, baseball, and volleyball and perform in concerts and recitals would be fun—and it has been.
But the weather has been irregular, to say the least. Now, our Virginia home is no farther south than Cincinnati, Ohio. So, we knew winters would be cold and snowy from time to time, but usually, the snow didn’t last long. The valley would get six inches of snow, and it would be gone in two days, thanks to the clear blue skies and warmer temperatures.
For the most part, that is what the winters have been like until this year. We might as well have stayed in Ohio, where we sometimes received lake effect snow from strong northerly winds blowing off Lake Erie even though we lived 75 miles south of Cleveland.
The winter here has produced multiple snowstorms that deposited snow ranging from one inch to seven inches. Some areas in the county had even more. We have also had two rounds of freezing rain that brought down large tree limbs and closed schools and businesses. And there’s still more winter weather to come.
Mind you, I am not complaining. I am just stating facts and perhaps a little frustration. Still, I greatly enjoy the beauty the blankets of snow create. I hope that joy is reflected in the photos.
Given this weather, though, we could have visited Upstate New York to play with our fourth grandchild, Teddy, a very curious two-and-a-half-year-old. I think we’ve had more snow than Teddy.
At least the birds have beenfaithful in visiting our birdfeeders and birdbaths.
Hawaii preserves its lush vegetation with city, county, and state parks. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Turquoise waters, large, rolling waves crashing into coves with hidden pristine beaches, majestic palms, and friendly, inclusive residents who love their history and land are reasons enough to visit Hawaii.
However, our 50th state’s flora and fauna also stand out, as I discovered on a recent trip there. The vegetation, flowers, and wildlife ignited my senses, and I snapped over 1,200 photos. It was that beautiful, and I only visited three islands: Oahu, Kona, and Maui.
You don’t need to be a botanist to appreciate the abundance of lush plants, trees, and flowers on the 132 Hawaiian islands. Hawaii’s wildlife thrives in these varied tropical habitats.
As an avid but amateur birder, I focused on birds. However, since I was on a group tour, my opportunities to do much bird watching were limited. I listened to and looked for birds as much as possible in my free time at the various stops on every excursion.
I was most impressed with how Hawaiians honor sacred lands by caring for them through public parks, wildlife preserves, and national parks. The lack of trash along roadsides, sidewalks, beaches, and in rainforests proved this point.
In the capital city of Honolulu, flowers were ubiquitous. They bloomed in neatly manicured flowerbeds, bushes, hedges, and trees, and native flowers filled vases inside nearly every building we entered.
However, the countryside was where the flora and fauna ruled. Thanks to frequent tropical rains, dense rainforests grew on the windward sides of these mountainous islands. Since the clouds had spent their moisture, only scrubby trees, bushes, and grasses grew on the leeward slopes. There was that much difference in the annual rainfall.
The transition between lush and barren was usually pronounced. However, in some rural locations, ranchers fenced off large, sloping pastures dotted with scrubby trees where cattle, cows, and horses congregated.
Ancient and recent lava flowed to the sea down the mountainsides, disrupting most plant growth. Still, grasses poked through, helping to break down the rock with assistance from winds and rain.
Lush foliage covered steep, sharp mountains while a half mile to the coast, shorebirds waded for any morsel they could snag. That’s the natural consequence of life on the tip of a submerged volcano that would tower over all land-based mountains, including Mount Everest. Animals and birds flourished all around Hawaii Volcanos National Park.
As the vegetation types changed, so did the animal life. In the adjacent ocean waters, manta rays cruised the shorelines for food, and giant Green Sea Turtles basked on sunny beaches to warm themselves.
At a historical coffee plantation, songbirds darted from tree to tree, singing and calling high above the shaded coffee bushes. Years ago, I experienced similar scenes multiple times in Honduran coffee farms.
The last full day on Maui proved the most thrilling for scenery and fauna. Driving the Road to Hana and back will do that. Steep mountainsides filled with 50 shades of green surrounded majestic waterfalls, and sharp-angled cliffs dove into inviting waters.
Hidden coves with fine black or white sand beaches held their secrets. Crashing waves instantly transformed into a brilliant white froth that quickly disappeared.
I spied a colony of terns that spend most of the year out to sea fishing. They claimed an old, rugged lava rock that protruded above the sea’s surface, providing a handy, protected nesting sight. Behind me, a small flock of finches waddled through the park’s manicured grasses.
I would be negligent not to mention the free-range hens and roosters roaming the islands. Like many other island animals and plants, they are not native but are now part of the culture.
In my few days in this island paradise, nature’s flora and fauna overwhelmed me with joy. Surrounded by such enchanting environments, who wouldn’t be?
A black sand beach along the Road to Hana. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
A Say’s Phoebe in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Finding rare birders is always a memorable experience, no matter one’s level of avian expertise. Since I consider myself an average birder, I always appreciate the opportunity to bird with those who are more knowledgeable than me.
That was the case recently when someone discovered a Say’s Phoebe five miles west of my home near Harrisonburg, Virginia. Having a Say’s Phoebe in the Shenandoah Valley was a rare treat, but seeing it in person became my goal since it would be a life bird.
I first learned about the Say’s Phoebe via an email listserv that reports rare bird sightings. I bundled up and headed to the property where the bird was seen. Several birders were already there scouting the bird. Ironically, the phoebe, which should have been in the southwest U.S. or Mexico, was across the road from where I photographed a Snowy Owl a few weeks earlier.
I walked as quietly as possible on the crunching snow and heard words that diminished my enthusiasm. “There it goes,” one of the birders said. It was late afternoon, and the guess was the phoebe was headed for a warmer roast than the steel pole buildings with three open sides.
I got eyewitness reports of the bird and details of its favorite haunts around the produce auction buildings it frequented during the day. The recommendation was to try in the morning when the bird foraged for dead insects.
That is precisely what I did. Only two other birders were present when I arrived. They had not found it yet. Discouraged, one birder headed to her car but soon turned around, waving her arms furiously.
She had spotted the bird sitting on the handle of a hand pump, a favorite spot for the bird. Say’s Phoebes perch lower to the ground to feed than their cousins, Eastern Phoebes. But both species pump their tales and fly to intercept the insects, often returning to the same or near the same perch. Say’s Phoebes have a long, dark tail and a distinctive orange-to-pink buff belly.
The bird flew into one of the open-sided buildings and continued to snatch dead insects stuck in spiderwebs around the ceiling and security lights. The lovely bird posed enough for us to capture several decent photos.
Satisfied, the woman who spotted the bird departed for other birding hot spots. That left two of us to follow the bird around, which we did for an hour. Given the bird’s feeding behavior, we soon learned to stand in a central location and let the bird fly to us. That strategy paid dividends. My birding companion even recorded the phoebe calling.
The Say’s Phoebe searched high and low for food. Winter in Virginia isn’t insect season, and several inches of snow covered the ground, too. No one knew what brought the bird to the valley, but we were grateful for the opportunity to view it.
I had the photos I wanted in an hour, so I headed home to share the good news with other birders by posting it on several Facebook birding pages. I was happy to add another bird to my life list. This exhilarating encounter was another birding experience I won’t forget.
The Say’s Phoebe perched on a wall header. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Look at this handsome guy! Isn’t he resplendent with his marvelous feather coloration?
This male Northern Flicker regularly visits the peanut butter suet feeder that hangs from the Red Maple tree in our front yard. I can easily see the feeder and the tree from my home office.
This bird has visited the feeder for several months. Unfortunately, the European Starlings have discovered the tasty suet, too. Outnumbered by the gang of noisy birds, the Northern Flicker sat patiently in the morning sunshine until the starlings thinned out. Then, he made his move for breakfast.
Ho’okipa Beach Park, Maui. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Our last full day in Maui became the best of the trip. They saved the best for last.
I signed up for a tour along the Road to Hana, which our daughter had recommended. Knowing it would be an all-day deal and the road would have many hairpin turns, my wife decided to stay at the hotel and rest. That form of travel isn’t her cup of tea.
The day became a win-win for both of us.
I rose early for our day-long adventure. Before boarding the bus, I ate some of the hotel’s boxed breakfast since we would leave before the breakfast buffet opened. Little did I know that the first stop would be 45 minutes away at a grocery store for another boxed breakfast provided by the bus company. We wouldn’t go hungry today.
Our bus driver, Sale (pronounced Sally), was our masterful guide. A native Hawaiian, he started sternly, giving us strict instructions about the dos and don’ts of riding on his bus. But by day’s end, his good-hearted nature tumbled out, embracing us all. He later confessed that he initially and intentionally controls things so everyone has an enjoyable, safe trip. It worked.
Our first actual stop was at the famous Ho’okipa Beach Park. Though I didn’t know it by name, I had seen photos of Hawaiian surfers riding rolling, blue-green waves to its white sandy shore.
The ubiquitous hen and rooster. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
It was too early for the surfers, but not the ubiquitous roosters and chickens that roam the islands. They greeted us with their usual clucking. That didn’t spoil our view of the ocean’s relentless pounding of Maui’s gorgeous coastline.
After that scenic stop, it was all twists and turns on the windy, narrow roadway. Sale pulled into a small pullout and introduced us to the Rainbow Eucalyptus tree. The peeling bark revealed the surprise of the trunk’s pastel colors.
As we continued along the coastline, an incredible scene appeared at nearly every curve. The undulating road hugged the lush mountainsides of the rainforest we had entered.
Even through the tinted bus windows, we saw calendar-worthy shots of the rugged coast that appeared to knife into the ocean. Like all the other 131 Hawaiian Islands, Maui is just the tip of a vast volcanic mountain. If these mountains were on land, they would be higher than Mount Everest.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them. Photos by Bruce Stambaugh
But instead of driving through mountaintop snow, the bus skirted through lush vegetation and onto picturesque peninsulas dotted with houses, churches, and a few touristy businesses. We couldn’t stay long enough at each stop for me. We had to truck on.
At the Ko’olau Forest Reserve, we observed the lush surroundings of the rushing, falling waters. Other visitors had different ideas. Despite the signs that climbing was prohibited, one man climbed through the dense foliage to the top of the waterfall to show off for his friends. He feigned jumping but instead sat down for a photo.
At the century-old one-lane bridge below, young men took turns hurdling themselves off the bridge over a cliff and plunged into a deep pool created by the falls’ constant crashing. Friends were stationed at strategic locations to view the daredevil leaps. One guy even stood at the edge of the ledge, filming each diver.
At overlooks, local farmers hocked their produce from the beds of pick-ups. They offered free samples of sweet, sticky oranges, two kinds of coconuts, and piles of fruit I couldn’t identify.
The view from Hana. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Sale kept us moving. Soon, we arrived at Hana, where we lunched at an outdoor pavilion. The proprietor even brought me a gluten-free pizza, which I gladly shared with others.
Hana was our turnaround spot, but it was certainly not the end of our discoveries. We also visited Wainapanapa State Park, which had its own version of a black-sand beach. It was gorgeous and popular.
The beach’s setting was stunning. Lush greenery thriving on mounds of solidified black lava surrounded the beach that gradually slanted into the ocean. Lava cliffs protected the small inlet that led to the beach.
The royal blue waters rolled and miraculously transformed into a frothy white carpet that gently recoiled until another wave struck. Not surprisingly, the beach was busy with folks looking for shells and shark teeth, waders, and people lounging in beach chairs.
As I explored the area, tropical birds I had never seen caught my attention. Some seabirds with white heads and gray bodies hugged the lumpy side of an unusual volcanic rock formation not far from shore. A few flew around the rocks and landed back in a recess. Later, I found out they were Brown Hoodies. Behind me, a small flock of songbirds foraged in grassy spots nearby.
With daylight waning, we needed to keep moving. Still, Sale stopped for photo ops of waterfalls and pristine ocean views.
Sale, our gregarious bus driver
Along the way, Sale pointed out several burned-out vehicles that had crashed and been left on pullouts along the narrow Road to Hana. During the night, vandals had stripped and torched them. He didn’t understand that mentality any more than we did.
What Sale did understand was the Hawaiian way of life. His Hawaiian family roots were deep, and he poignantly shared personal stories of love, loss, and hardship.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them. Photos by Bruce Stambaugh
As beautiful and alluring as the islands are, living in a paradise like Hawaii is not easy. The cost of living is the primary driver of difficulty. Gasoline always hovers around $5 a gallon, eggs are $12 a dozen, and milk prices average $10 a gallon. Rent and taxes are high, and if you live away from any urban area, it can take hours to go grocery shopping.
According to Sale, three generations of families cohabitate to make ends meet. It makes for crowded living, but sharing the expenses is the only way most Hawaiians can remain in the lands they have loved for many generations.
Another Hawaiian novelty is a remnant of World War II. Spam, the canned meat, was fed to the troops during the war. The locals liked it so well that it has become a Hawaiian culture staple. Spam musubi is a favorite snack. It’s a sandwich with a rice filling and two pieces of fried Spam wrapped with dried seaweed. Even McDonald’s has capitalized on the fad becoming a tradition. Yes, Spam is on their menu.
No, I didn’t try it! Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
The lyrical Hawaiian language also fascinated me. With only 12 letters, five vowels, and seven consonants, it creates lengthy words and names. But the words roll off residents’ tongues like rhythmical waves coming ashore.
Hawaiians are proud, friendly, and willing to share their Polynesian history and love for their beautiful island home. This approach to life defines their culture of inclusion.
Our last stop was where we began. The late afternoon sun shone brightly on Ho’okipa Beach Park’s breakers. A half-dozen surfers bobbed in the water, waiting on the perfect wave.
But Sale wanted us to see something else. We walked 20 yards down the steep access road to the beach and looked down. Giant Green Sea Turtles were coming ashore to bask in the warm sunshine. It was another unscheduled stop that only a local like Sale could gift us.
Surfers.Green Sea Turtles.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them. Photos by Bruce Stambaugh
As darkness set in, I thought about all we had experienced over these few days. The culture, the bubbly language, the incredible vistas, beaches, Hawaiian history, the importance of family, the inclusion of visitors, balmy breezes, sunny, warm days, and wildlife combined to make this a fantastic trip.
Then, a text from my wife reported that she had tested negative for COVID-19. She celebrated by relaxing in the warmth and fellowship of Maui.
As we prepared to leave the following day, we had our picture taken with yet another rainbow in the background.
Our final photo in Hawaii. Of course, there was a rainbow.
If we heard one word consistently from the time we stepped onto Hawaiian soil until we boarded the plane to leave, it was Aloha. Aloha means “hello” and “goodbye.” It’s a verbal representation of Hawaii’s inclusive society.
After saying our goodbyes, we spent most of the day flying home. It was an anti-climatic finale to our marvelous trip.
The relaxing view from our lanai. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
After a hardy breakfast of veggie omelets and fresh fruit, we left for the Maui Ocean Center. We drove through the burned-out section of Lahaina, and I didn’t realize it at first with all the rebuilding that had been done.
However, the many empty lots and scorched concrete block walls bore witness to the devastation. A respectful hush came over the bus. Everyone sensed the apparent dichotomy. As tourists, we embraced the beauty of the islands, its rhythmic language, the friendliness of its handsome people, and pride in their cultures. Yet, they had no homes, and still, they welcomed us. They needed the tourism jobs.
Sections of Lahaina still waiting to be rebuilt. Photos by Bruce Stambaugh
Though we left the hotel early, we arrived at the ocean center late. An accident caused a long traffic jam on the two-lane highway to the bay where the aquarium is located. The bus driver said accidents along this stretch of road are frequent.
A guided tour of the Maui Ocean Center gave us a good understanding of the sealife around Hawaii. We watched various fish, sharks, and stingrays swim past the aquarium’s large underwater windows. Humpback Whales breed and give birth in the waters off Maui, but we were a little early to see any whales.
Back at the hotel, we strolled down Black Rock Beach to a seaside restaurant. The locals were getting a headstart on celebrating the holidays. A large Christmas tree stood fully decorated at the end of a walkway to the beach.
The setting, the views, the flowers—everything was gorgeous. Parasails caught the trade winds offshore and glided high above the intoxicating indigo ocean.
After a bit of shopping, we continued to take it all in. We rested on the balcony of our third-floor room, which gave us great views of the catamarans sailing by, teenage boys taking turns jumping off the black lava rocks, and the soothing tropical breeze. We had to pinch ourselves to ensure we weren’t dreaming.
As evening approached, I wanted to get some sunset shots from the beach. I went down early, surprised to see how few people were out and about. Clouds began filling the sky, and I feared the sunset would be a bust. I need not have worried.
Over Pineapple Island, opposite the channel, warm, amber crepuscular rays began to filter through the clouds. They appeared like spotlights against the higher clouds, creating a surreal scene. I wondered what the natives long ago would have thought had they experienced this. Was this a sign from the gods? If so, what did it mean?
I snapped away at my good fortune. Could this vacation get any better? Yes, it did.
Water Lilies bloomed outside the hotel restaurant. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Our first sunset on Maui. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I knew I would like Maui. From the air, Hawaii’s commitment to green energy was evident. Giant white windmills stood out on the black lava mountainsides, and acres of solar panels and agricultural fields stood side by side.
The bright morning sunshine highlighted two cruise ships docked at the small harbor. I was glad there weren’t more.
Windmills.Agriculture.Solar farm.Cruise ships.
Lunchtime called when we left the busy little airport that looked more like a Hollywood movie set. We boarded the bus and headed to Paia on Maui’s north coast. Paia’s fame hails back to 1870 when the first sugar cane crop was planted there.
The old town wasn’t built for tourist buses, so we had to exit expediently to avoid blocking traffic. With only 14 passengers, the bus emptied in record time, mainly because we were hungry.
Most of us walked to the Paia Fish Market for fresh seafood. Lunch was on our own, and our tab demonstrated the high cost of living in Paradise. However, given the quality of our seafood, we didn’t quibble.
Soon, we headed to Iao Valley State Monument, which features a phallic rock nicknamed “the Needle,” which the ancients worshiped. I didn’t ask any questions. Once there, I enjoyed an easy hike to the viewing area, which provides a lovely view back down the valley we climbed to reach the monument.
Visitors and their pet dogs lounged in the refreshing, cool waters of a stream that carved the valley millennia ago. I enjoyed the pleasant views and the invigorating air. The adorned natural monument stands between two steep mountainsides.
From there, we drove to the Maui Tropical Plantation, a campus with a restaurant, a large gift shop, and an impressive pond that allowed me to see the Hawai’i state bird, the Hawaiian Goose, or Nene. I also spotted a Black-crowned Night Heron attempting to swallow a big, fat fish. It was still wrestling with the fish when it was time to head to our hotel to check-in.
I secured a seat on the bus’s ocean side and enjoyed the views of the turquoise Pacific Ocean and the many parks and beaches along the way. The island of Lanai, or Pineapple Island, was just across the way.
The bus took the bypass around Lahaina, where the devastating fires broke out and burned much of the historic town. Still, we saw vacant lot after vacant lot. Only a small percentage of buildings and a few homes have been rebuilt. A few hardy people live in campers where their houses once stood.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them.
When we arrived at our hotel, we found our room had an ocean view in the middle of the resort. We walked around the charming property to orient ourselves and couldn’t believe our good fortune. With these arrangements and the balmy breezes, it was an absolute Paradise. But we were only beginning our incredible stay in Maui.
That evening, we experienced our first sunset and then watched the nightly reenactment of young men diving from the black rocks that jut into the ocean. A single young man with a lighted torch climbed the rocks, reached his arms high to the gods in appreciation of another day, and jumped into the sea. The tradition started from much higher cliffs, but the demonstration was still impressive.
A video of jumping from the rocks.
The experience was a marvelous way to finish our first day in Maui, especially with my wife feeling better. We happily wondered what was ahead.
Roadkill Crossing 
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