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Two Åga (Mariana crow) perched on a single branch in the forest.  Photo Courtesy: Phil Hannon

And the silken, sleek, uncertain rustling of each blue-black body Is thrilling—filling the fantastic limestone forests with numbers never felt before;            So that now, to still the decreasing numbers of Åga , they fly against the test of time            “’If this crow can withstand the knock of extinction at their door— So can other crows withstand the knock of extinction at their door;--                    Here on Rota and forevermore.”

           Presently the forest soul grows stronger; the mind’s eye travels farther, “Perhaps,” hopeful ones say, “across the deep blue, we implore;            That the native corvids are a flapping, and a rapping,            And so sure is the possibility, possibly because no brown tree snakes have invaded, That there will be surcease of crowing”—here on the islands of Hawai’i they should have pervaded—                    But darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long one waits to hear, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams that this could never be;            But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,            And the only hope there spoken was the whispered word, “ʻAlalā?” This the only species, and an echo of a reminder that once there were six                  Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the dejection, all the crows no longer singing, Soon again there sounds a cawing a bit quiet in the distance.           “Surely,” one hopes, “surely that is something in the forest;”           Come see, then, what therat is, and this mystery explore-- Let the forest be filled again and this mystery explore;--                  ‘Tis the aviary upon the forest floor!

One ʻAlalā perches on a branch looking down.  Photo Credit: Hawai’i Department of Land and Natural Resources

Open aviary doors on the forest floor, when, with many a flirt and flutter, Out there stepped a stately ʻAlalā of the saintly crows of yore;            Not the least bit timid flight made he; not an hour passed or stayed he;            But, out of the aviary he perched in the open forest of Hawai’i-- Perched upon a branch just waiting for his fellow cohort to follow--                  Perched, and sat, and cawing once more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling the onlookers, negating the critics, By the grave and stern occasion of its extinction in the wild, “Though thy presence is first in these trees, thou art sure no craven, Ghastly feral mammals and disease have ravaged the land you once wandered, But now with training, with skills to combat the hawk and starvation,                  Extinct the crow is nevermore.”

Much to be marveled by, to hear discourse so plainly, Though it warrants little answering--most calls being alarming;            For we cannot help agreeing that few living human beings            Ever yet has been blessed with seeing such fowl above before-- Bird or beast to come upon the released crow, the latter been prepared before,                  Within the cohort they have rapport.

An ʻAlalā carries a twig in its beak.  Photo Courtesy: SDZG

But the ‘Io, sitting lonely on the rising canopy, swooped only For one taste, as if her soul in that one plunge she did outpour.            Nothing farther then she tried--not a feather then she fluttered--            For that crow more than muttered distress, for other defenses had he flown-- On the morrow the alarm may sound again, but for now, Hope has flown.                  The drill to cease nevermore.

Startled at the stillness broken by predator so aptly graceful, “Doubtless,” one ponders, “such a scene is stock and store to only here            Caught from some fragmenting forests whom unmerciful Disaster            Followed fast and followed faster till its songs of some fateful years-- Till the dirges of its flying Hopes that melancholy bore those years                  Of crows nevermore.”

A captive raised Åga chick is fed by researchers on Rota. Image by San Diego Zoo Global.

But the ʻAlalā and Åga still beguiling the world into smiling, Straight into the depths of forests known we release the bird, from brood and for broods;            Then, upon the black specks disappearing, science betakes to linking            Native unto native, thinking what these ominous birds of yore-- What these grim, beady, knowing, original, and ominous species of yore                  Need to exist forevermore.

This is engaged in guessing, in researching, but no syllable expressing To the dangers whose invasive species had burned the crows from forest core;            This and more threatens the native life, with great strife it is to restore            Homes now altered and unbalanced, that the invaders gloated o’er, But whose destruction on islands-about may dwindle with the crow gloating o’er,                  Native seeds shall disperse, ah, once more!

Two ʻAlalā are flying close together in a tree.  Photo Credit: Hawai’i DLNR

A closeup of the head of an Åga .  Photo Courtesy: Phil Hannon

To read more about the Åga and ʻAlalā, click these links below:

Species Spotlight: Åga

The ‘Alalā Project