Paradise in peril - Hawaii's native species

Sunset, Feb, 1995 by Lora J. Finnegan

Driving alongside private lands abutting the park's northeast boundary, he points out some typical problems. On one side of the road, outside the park, heavy pink vines drape over trees, choking them and all that grows underneath. Katahira explains that the vines are banana poka, first brought to the Islands as an ornamental, but now invading the wild. "It can climb to the top of the tallest native koa and 'ohi'a lehua trees - up to 200 feet. The tree dies a slow death." Birds also suffer, since the koa is home to many endangered forest birds and the red blossoms of the 'ohi'a feed others, such as the scarlet 'i'iwi and the red-and-black 'apapane.

Climbing over a short wire fence, we step into a section of the park called the 'Ola'a Forest - and seemingly back in time. Dark, viscous mud oozes over our boot tops as we clamber over roots as thick as a wrestler's arm. A soft green light filters down through the scimitar-shaped leaves of the koa trees overhead. Underneath, hapu'u tree ferns stand tall on bundles of broomsticklike aerial roots. This fern acts as a nurse log for the 'ohi'a tree, which begins on the fern as an epiphyte, then sends its roots to the ground without killing the host fern. Similar tree ferns have existed in Hawaii since the Paleozoic era, yet one particular alien species can decimate a swath of ferns and forest virtually overnight.

"The feral pig is our worst enemy here," says Katahira. "He knocks down the tree fern and chews out its starchy core heart, leaving, a watery hollow where mosquitoes breed and carry disease to native birds." Pigs also eat the fruit of the banana poka and excrete its seeds, spreading the plant deeper into the forest.

The 'Ola'a Forest today is lush and healthy because it has been fenced off and nearly pig-free long enough to prove the forest can regenerate if pigs and alien plants are removed. It contrasts sharply with decimated areas where pigs still roam, reinforcing park officials' fears of a catastrophe in the making. Studies indicate that the situation is a dire one, calling for drastic and sometimes controversial measures.

Since the start of the pig control program, park officials have fenced, trapped, and hunted the animal out of 20,000 acres, where the forest is now recovering. Each month, a ranger walks every inch of the 45 miles of pig fence and repairs breaks. Rangers have another 40,000 acres to fence, but the work is costly - as much as $50,000 per mile - and the special fund that paid for the project has run dry, putting the project's future in jeopardy.

Haleakala: fighting the black stain

The pig problem has been pretty much solved at Haleakala National Park on Maui. Fencing is nearly complete around critical sections of this complex park, whose boundaries sweep' from Haleakala's 10,023-foot summit to the sea coast and whose life zones range from the desertlike crater floor to some of the most untouched rain forest left in Hawaii.

Park officials have scored hard-won victories against voracious feral goats that once swarmed through Haleakala Crater in huge herds, stripping vegetation to the ground. Hunting of feral goats is allowed in various parts of the Islands; here, it was stepped up with the help of a large volunteer force. "The first few thousand were easy to get out," says ranger Ted Rodrigues. Eventually, only the wiliest goats in remote areas were left. "To find them, we'd release a captured goat with a radio collar. We called him the Judas goat, because he'd go join up with the wild ones and we could track them all."