Riding at fifty miles an hour, Hawaii’s hot trade wind
flaps my shirt and pushes my full-head motorcycle helmet to and fro, but I
grip tight. I am only anywhere from twelve to forty-eight inches away from
streaking pavement, from a surface that could end our lives in a serious
glitch. It’s exhilarating. I hug Tom’s
stomach with my right arm, and fist my left hand around the bar under my seat,
knuckles white, fingers red, my arm tense, as we ride. I have only me to hold me on.
Our bike is glossy red and black, sporty, and completely contrary to
the mostly Harley Davidson motorcycle crowd on Maui’s roads. But then, we are completely cut against the
grain anyway. A shiny red Kawasaki labels us well.
Last week our condominium manager asked Tom to describe his
bike in order to register for a parking space.
Tom responded with, "It’s a Versys, four-stroke, fuel injected, 6-speed,
liquid cooled.” I piped in, “I think she
wants to know the color.” We’re now squared away.
When riding, I try to avoid looking at the dizzying payment. And this particular day my eyes wander to sugar cane fields, then to my right, Haleakala, with massive green slopes meeting a flat horizontal line of dark clouds hiding the volcanic peak. Then to my left I take in also-green-sloped cities
on the West Maui Mountains. The views are breathtaking. You’d think I’d be used
to this scene by now--that I would take it for granted--but I do not. And of course breezing through Maui’s
valley, completely open to the environment at fifty miles an hour, how could I
not feel awe?
It is Tom and I together in a new land for 36 days now. The two of us twenty-four-seven, like Hawaii’s myna birds travelling in pairs all day. The avian couples fly right next to our lanai
(patio) every evening just before sunset. They fly toward
us from the ocean, then pass us through a gulch filled with lush
greenery forty feet deep off the edge of our lanai. The pairs fly right at eye
level or below, two by two, here and there, throughout a thirty-minute
duration before sunset. Their goal is to
gather in the bamboo thicket on the mauka (up-mountain) side of our place.
 |
| Myna Birds, Similar to those we see on Maui |
Arrival is constant.
Some pairs appear early, many in middle-time, and some scurry in at the last
minute before sundown to make it to their safety zone before dark. Hundreds merge into one
bamboo high-rise nature complex.
And the noise, the noise does not permit you to hear your
own conversation. The birds chat it up,
telling each and all of their adventure that day. It’s their proverbial own homeowners
association meeting. Someone initiates a gripe to stir
the rest into a steadfast chime. At sunset, the congregation continues
conversation. Then, within ten minutes
after orange and blue leave the sky, turning to grey, then black, the chirping
quiets, except for a rustle here or there in the night.
(Continued below.)
Sound of Myna Birds in Bamboo by our Place
There are no predators for these birds, so
why, why do they need to travel miles
back to here before dark? But then, we do the same. We rendezvous. Tom and I venture out for the day as a
couple then come home to chirp or converse on our
lanai (branch) of a 120-unit condo thicket. Many other people also come home to their
lanais--their branches--and roost. And we
all jabber, recalling our day. We then become
quiet for the night. How odd is
life anyway?
Every so often I see a myna bird fly home solo. I look and look to see if I am mistaken, to
see if I can see another, but I don’t.
What happened? What is the story
behind this singular bird? It moves me to think I am so fortunate to have Tom as my myna bird partner, to travel together in the day, and chirp
prolifically about politics and life during our evenings.
I wonder if myna birds have their own politics? Probably. I suspect the arguments are much simpler, more focused on raw
survivability. They ask for little in
their quest for cooperation.
Moving swiftly at fifty miles an hour across the island on a red and black six-cylinder fuel injected machine, I hug Tom tightly and appreciate the moment as just
that. I breathe in lush, fresh air, and
embrace my loved one as we fly at a thrilling speed, just like myna birds.
