Checking out the new USGS building in Hilo, with drones!

There's a new building under construction on the UH Hilo campus (near to several places I have worked/am working), which when completed will house the USGS Hawaiian Volcano Observatory (HVO) and the USGS Pacific Island Ecosystems Research Center (PIERC). It's replacing a previous HVO building which was located in Hawaiian Volcanoes National Park and was damaged in Kīlauea's 2018 eruption; this new one will be closer to staff who live in Hilo and students from the UH campus. Preparation of the lot started last year but construction really picked up this spring, and since I drive by it most days I've been able to watch its progress. And as a construction site not really near lots of people, I felt comfortable bringing out my Avata for some FPV exploration.

Along with my Mini 3 Pro; the video below contains footage from both. This was recorded on the 4th of July weekend, though I had to go back and reshoot the FPV footage on a different day because I was still figuring out which lens profiles worked with Gyroflow for post-production stabilization. (Note to self: It's the Wide profile that works, not Normal or [as you might think] Extra Wide). It's a slight shame since the weather was absolutely beautiful the first day, but the FPV footage I got the second time was better overall so it all works out.

I'm pretty happy with the resulting video. I couldn't really figure out a way to make a single long FPV shot look good, but I like the cutting between wide establishing shots and the more interesting individual fly-throughs. The music actually does stop like that halfway through (though I extended the pause slightly), and when I saw that collision in my footage I thought it was too funny not to sync them up. The recovery makes me smile, as I had basically nothing to do with it – the Avata can sometimes autonomously recover from collisions when you'd hardly expect it to.

It turns out I got that footage at pretty much the optimal point in the construction process as just the next week they started filling in the walls, making the main building less see-through and (probably) harder to fly through. I hope I get a chance to visit when it's complete, as they're going to have some amazing views of Mauna Kea, Mauna Loa, and the Saddle between them from that north lanai. We'll see how it goes! I don't know how much longer construction will take, but I'd imagine it'll finish sometime next year. A hui hou!

Tsunami (2025 edition)

Well, it's been a while since I last used the tsunami label on a post! Looking back I used it six times between 2010 and 2014, then…not until now. The first three years I lived in Hawaii each had a tsunami alert (two important enough to use the sirens), which primed to me think of them as roughly annual events. But then I haven't experienced one since 2014 (I don't think there were any while I was away in Australia), so when we started hearing tsunami watches (and then warnings) on the radio on Tuesday the 29th while working up at the Natural Area Reserve it was something of a blast from the past.

Thankfully, much like the others I've experienced living here, this one proved relatively uneventful. I've seen a reported wave height in Hilo of 4.9 feet, which was enough to flood some parking lots (and probably the first floors of some buildings) along the coast, but not enough to cause major damage. The wave was initially estimated to arrive just after 7 PM; it was still just light enough (right after sunset) that I put my drone in the air for about twenty minutes to see if I could see anything in the bay. The actual arrival happened around 8:30 PM, though, when it was far too dark to be see anything. (I also saw another drone in the air while I was up there, so I wasn't the only one with that idea.)

This was the largest tsunami alert since 2011, large enough that the sirens were activated – and since Friday was the first of the month, they also got activated for the usual first-of-the-month test, so I got to hear them twice in four days. Since I'm (decently far) out of the evacuation zone where I live it ended up being a relatively normal evening for me, but it's a good reminder that life's never boring when you live on a volcano in the middle of the Pacific! A hui hou!

Zoo, part two

I mentioned back in May how I went to the Panaʻewa Rainforest Zoo just south of Hilo for the first time on my birthday, and how that happened to be a rainy day. While I did enjoy my visit and the lack of crowds caused by the rain, I wanted to go back at some point when it wasn't raining to get more photos of the animals. I finally went about a month later, in June, which is about a month ago from when I'm writing this post as it's been pretty busy for me in the intervening weeks.

I found myself drawn back to several of the same animals, as the change in weather had some clear effects on their behavior or look. The red iguana above already looked good in the rain, but positively glows in the sunlight with an iridescent sheen. (And also appears to be enjoying itself from this angle.)

Similarly, I once again ended photographing the bumblebee poison dart frogs, which were much more active this time. Whereas before they were pretty much motionless, this time I saw several climbing or jumping around the enclosure. I think they were being fed, as this little group kept bobbing their heads forward and darting their tongues towards the mesh.

I did end up with a few photos that weren't just repeats, such as this one of the alligator in its enclosure.

I also got a nice shot of this golden crowned crane, native to Africa and the national bird of Uganda. I had to get in position with my phone then make a little noise to get it to look at me, but it worked out!

Overall it was a fun time. It was interesting to see how the animals' behaviors changed (or didn't) with the weather, and the lighting let me appreciate various colors better. There were a lot more people there with the sunny weather, but not enough to feel too crowded.

This is a little unfortunately timed, in that the zoo will begin charging a small admission fee in August, so this weekend is one of the last times to visit for free. I can see the reasoning behind it, and there's a relatively cheap annual pass so it shouldn't be too hard for people to continue going, but it's still a bummer. We'll see how it goes, I suppose, perhaps the revenue will allow for expansion and renovation (there are a few places noticeably empty at the moment which could have animals in them). A hui hou!

Hilo Bonsai Exhibition, 2025 edition

This past weekend I spent a night observing on Keck, and the weekend prior my parents were in Hilo, so it's been something of a busy month for me with less downtime than usual. I've got a few post ideas backing up as a result which I hope to get out before too long, and for today's post I want to get back to something that happened last month (on Tau Day, even!), a visit to the annual bonsai exhibition at the Wailoa Art Center.

There was a lot of impressive topiary on display, and while walking around to see and photograph it one thing I saw there stuck with me: a little placard that said something like, “Bonsai is not about making a big tree small, but about making a small tree look big.” It inspired me to look in a different way while taking pictures; instead of simply snapping a shot from my vantage point (usually looking down on a piece), I tried taking a few shots as if from the ground looking up at a normal-sized tree.

This one benefited from the light pouring in on it from above, which lit it up in a striking manner. I went about an hour before it closed in the late afternoon, since I was finally feeling better that day after being sick with COVID-19 the entire week (for the third confirmed [and probably sixth overall] time). The way the leaves are illuminated from above reminds me of working in the forest, especially since this month we started a data-collection protocol involving measuring the crowns and canopies of trees (with a lot of associated looking upwards, usually right into the Sun overhead).

And while this one isn't that little – it's probably a good two feet high – a low angle helps it look even larger. Cut out the background and you could fit this tree in a landscape with little difficulty (other than the fact that I cropped the edges out; whoops).

Anyway, I've got some more post ideas and projects in the works that I just haven't had the time or mental energy to get out yet, but with this weekend hopefully going back to normal I might be able to make some progress on that front. We'll see! A hui hou!

Happy Two Pi(e) Day 2025!

It's that time of year again folks! By which I mean Tau Day, 6/28, and Michael Hartl's annual State of the Tau update. Looking back over my blog, I realize this marks ten years since I made my first post on Tau Day back in 2015 (with one every year since except for 2017, where I seem to have simply forgot).

Since you're probably tired of me explaining over and over again why \(\tau=2\pi\) is a more natural circle constant than \(\pi\), let me instead share some (photos of) actual pies. You see, up in the Puʻu Makaʻala Natural Area Reserve where I work a lot of plants are busy producing various fruits over the summer. Two of those happen to be the native Hawaiian raspberries (Rubus hawaiensis), known as ʻākala, and the native Hawaiian blueberries (Vaccinium reticulatum & V. calicynum), known as ʻōhelo (though they're actually red in color).

ʻŌhelo and ʻākala are both edible, though neither are particularly sweet (and ʻākala in particular can be very tart). Last month someone at work suggested the idea of baking them into a pie (where some added sugar could combat the tartness), and this inspired me enough to go out, buy a pie pan, and make some practice pies. I used a recipe for blueberry & raspberry pie (which I'm pretty sure I made while I was in Australia), using store-bought berries to stand in for the Hawaiian versions.

Before baking…

…and after!

And I think it came it pretty well! This is the second of two practice pies I made, since the berries I bought turned out to be just enough for two. The top cover design is meant to be a stylized view of a D20 die (or icosahedron), since we're the 20th domain in NEON and often abbreviated D20 (and have shirts with such a design on them). This was my first time making my own dough (I just used pre-made pie crusts in Australia), and while I think it could be slightly tweaked and improved I'm pretty happy with how it came out (both visually and taste-wise!).

I haven't had much time to collect berries from the field the past two weeks, but this week should provide me opportunity. Yesterday a friend of mine sent me a picture of an ʻākala pie from another conservation team on the island, so I'm clearly not the only person experimenting with it. A hui hou!

He hōkū hou: catching nova V462 Lupi

I didn't quite get this post out on the solstice, but I do have some astronomy-related news! On June 19th I saw a Sky & Telescope article about a newly-discovered nova in the constellation Lupus, V462 Lupi. As a quick reminder, a nova happens when a white dwarf accretes enough hydrogen from the atmosphere of a companion star that it ignites in a thermonuclear explosion, causing the white dwarf to brighten by millions of times (though usually leaving it intact). “Nova” is simply Latin for “new” as the resulting brightening looks like a new star among the fixed denizens of the night sky (and “he hōkū hou” in the title is simply Hawaiian for “a new star”).

After V462 Lupi was discovered on June 12th at a magnitude of 8.7, by the 19th it had brightened up to a naked-eye visibility of around 5.5. I've managed to catch Uranus by eye at around that magnitude from the Visitor Information Station before, so on a whim I decided to head up on the evening of the 20th to see if I could catch this nova. (The AAVSO light curve showed that it seemed to be plateauing, so I figured it might start to fade soon and I wanted to catch it before it did.)

The weather wasn't fully cooperating, as there was a faint high-level cloud layer to the south where Lupus lay along the Milky Way. Visibility was pretty good, all things considered, but everything was just slightly blurry from all the water vapor in the air. I could make out the broad strokes of the dusty rifts in the Milky Way, but none of the fine filamentary structure. Thankfully there was no Moon (something I forgot to check beforehand), which let me see the zodiacal light in the west as the Sun sank below the horizon from my perch atop Puʻu Kalepeamoa.

While I wasn't able to see the nova, thanks to modern technology I was able to capture it in a five-minute exposure with my Google Pixel phone. (I continue to be impressed at the astrophotography capability of this phone, as you may remember from my excursion to catch comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS last year.) It's not the most beautiful picture of the night sky I've seen, but considering the quality of the seeing it had to work with it's remarkable it came out as well as it did.

Ta-da!

Oh, you can't see the nova? Yeah, me neither. There are far too many stars visible – I'm not sure what the limiting magnitude is, but I've found stars as faint as magnitude 9.5, so there are a lot more stars here than you could see with the naked eye. Let me notate the constellations visible in this photo…

All right, that's better! (I've taken a few liberties in drawing the asterisms.) At least we know where we're looking now. I had to aim by trial-and-error so I didn't manage to center Lupus in the shot on this try, but the nova is in view. It's near where the arm of Centaurus approaches Lupus, around that triangle formed by Delta Lupi, Beta Lupi, and Kappa Centauri, so let's zoom in…

…way in. Just north of the triangle I mentioned is another little triangle of stars (I've marked both in orange in this image to distinguish them). And just north of that triangle's eastern (left) tip is our nova! That eastern star in the little triangle is magnitude 5.8, and it looks like V462 Lupi was about as bright at the time. That would probably have been visible had the sky been clear, but them's the breaks in astronomy; we can't fight the weather, merely live with it. My retinas probably collected a few photons from it over the time I spent staring in that direction, and I'm primarily happy that I got a photo I can share.

And if we go back to the wide-field annotated photo, I caught a few bonus deep-sky goodies in Centaurus! Omega Centauri shines brightly where I've circled it, and inspection reveals the fuzzy, non-stellar nature of this massive globular cluster. Even more impressive, however, is that a five-minute exposure with my cell phone camera shows a hint of the active, unusual galaxy Centaurus A, at a respectable 11–13 million light-years away! (I've imaged both of these objects before, if you want to see what they look like up close: Omega Centauri, Centaurus A.)

Anyway, that's my little near-solstice adventure this year. It's always fun to be reminded of changes in the heavens, especially when they're (theoretically) visible to the naked eye! A hui hou!

A rainy birthday zoo visit

Just south of Hilo lies the Panaʻewa Rainforest Zoo & Gardens. It's the only zoo in the United States located in a rainforest, it's free to enter, and in over a dozen years of living in Hilo I…have never visited. Recently there have been discussions about needing to start requiring an entrance fee, and now that I pass by it several times a week for my new job I decided to fix that oversight and visit for my birthday.

Despite the fact that it was pouring down rain today. Actually, even in spite of the rain I still had a fun time. I went with my friend Josh who had visited multiple times before but hadn't been in over a decade, and he was able to point out some of the changes and improvements. I managed to take some surprisingly good photos despite the rain, so have a few of them:

A bumblebee poison dart frog in its enclosure.

It's not a very large zoo – it took us perhaps a bit under two hours to see everything – but I found that rather nice; I've visited much larger zoos that took all day to see everything, and it does get a little exhausting after a while. This was a refreshingly ‘bite-sized’ zoo.

A red iguana chilling in the rain. Despite appearances, it was awake and watching me.

And it's not like it lacked for interesting animals, either. I'm only showing the better photos I managed to get, but it's got a neat selection of reptiles and amphibians, including several species of poison dart frogs and various chelonians. There are four native Hawaiian birds, the pueo (owl), ʻio (hawk), ʻalalā (crow) and nēnē (goose), multiple primates and a number of brightly-colored tropical birds, some peafowl who roam the park, tigers, emus, and even some binturongs and an alligator. 

A pueo, the native Hawaiian owl.

All in all it was a fun excursion, and with how close and easy to visit it is I'm a bit embarrassed I never visited sooner. I'm actually quite impressed with how well some of the photos I got with my Pixel 9 Pro came out despite the rain (and me juggling an umbrella in one hand), and I'm interested in coming back on a clearer day to spend some more time and see what else I can get.

A couple of emus in the rain. I knew better than to get my phone (and fingers) up close to them…

And altogether that made for a fun and memorable 36th birthday. My birthday hasn't been on a weekend since 2020, and since I'm usually saving vacation time for trips it was nice to have a relaxing day off to myself this year. (Especially after spending a rather chillier and less pleasant rainy day in the field earlier this week.) A hui hou!

A new job with NEON

It's been four weeks since I started my new job with NEON, the National Ecological Observatory Network (managed by Battelle), long enough for me to start settling in and having a chance to catch my breath. There's been a lot to learn. The past few weeks have been a blur of trainings on various data-collection protocols, learning to identifying dozens of plant species, and a procession of trips to various pre-established plots in the rainforest for data collection. (Plus a little bit of lab work.)

Being up at altitude near dawn for mosquito collection is rough, but the dewy grass is incredible.

NEON's mission is to provide a decades-long collection of ecological data from a network of locations across the US, so the various protocols are designed to get that data in a standardized format from diverse locations. There are twenty ‘domains’ across the US (of which we are Domain 20), which may have multiple sites where data is collected (though there's only one site in Hawaii). This data is open-source and available for anyone to use, a fact which fits my personal leanings very nicely. (Having an ORCiD already set up from my time in astronomy proved useful as we use them for attaching credit to data collection, so I may be able see data I've collected used and attributed in future papers.)

Some Astelia menziesiana (an endemic lilly) on a log.

Collecting such data isn't necessarily easy, though! In addition to the simple fact of the collections sites being located around 5,000–6,000 ft (~1,500–1,800 m) up the side of Mauna Loa, the nature of many protocols involves strict time sampling restrictions, which might require spending the day working in rain. (We're supposed to evacuate in thunderstorms, but those are rare near Hilo.) Even without rain spending 6+ hours in the field is no joke; some plots may have a lot of hard lava rock underfoot, while others (especially with feral pigs present) may be slippery mudholes. I've been amazed by the number of fallen logs in some of the older sections of the forest, which combined with the undergrowth can make getting around something of a challenge. We work four 10-hour days, and while the three-day weekend is nice there's no denying that working that long can be grueling, especially on field days.

Me recording data in a light drizzle.

Still, it's not without its upsides. While it can be uncomfortably hot, cold, or wet at times, at others it can be fairly pleasant. The work itself is interesting; while I had some experience identifying plants before, I'm learning all kinds of new, native plant species, and finding them for the plant diversity protocol is rather like a treasure hunt. Depending on the plot, we might find trees some 500 years old, or be exploring relatively younger lava flows from Mauna Loa perhaps a mere 250 years old. There's little human presence in the Natural Area Reserve where we work (although it's technically open for hiking), and the still-intact native forests house native birds which are rare elsewhere.

We often see nēnē at the site; I think I saw more my first day than in all my time here previously.

I've also found the labwork, though a far cry from anything I've done before, to be interesting. So far I've sorted leaf-litter from our leaf-litter traps, seeing how the distribution of species varies from plot to plot, and identified beetles from our beetle traps. The particular beetles we're interested in are called carabids, and while most species on the mainland are ground beetles, our native Hawaiian species are arboreal (though we still manage to catch them in our ground traps, somehow). There have actually been two entirely new species found in our traps in years past, which is certainly an exciting prospect.

Leaf litter sorting, into various piles for things like leaves, flower, seeds, twigs, etc.

After four weeks I'm not sure if this is something I want to continue doing indefinitely, but I've got a wonderful group of motivated, clever, and fun coworkers to work with and there are certainly fascinating aspects to the project and sights I wouldn't see otherwise. Perhaps I'll feel differently after a few more months. We'll see! A hui hou!

A Handel Easter hymn

Happy Easter, dear readers! A few weeks ago I accidentally introduced a hymn we sang in church today, Thine Is the Glory (or Thine Be the Glory, I've seen both titles). To explain, the music for the hymn comes from George Frederic Handel's oratorio Joshua, from a chorus titled “See, the conqu'ring hero comes!”. We've been going through the book of Joshua in Sunday School, and I'd been taking turns teaching while our regular teacher was away for a few weeks. I listened to Joshua (the oratorio) due to being reminded of it, remembered the hymn derived from it, and, since it's a resurrection song and Easter was a month away, introduced it to the class. Which reminded our music leader about it, causing him to pick it for Easter (despite it not being in our usual rotation). I felt like this was as good an excuse as any to digitally engrave some music, and whipped up the score below this afternoon for fun:

In the process I learned the difference between the Early Modern English verb forms ‘hast’ (second-person singular present indicative) and ‘hath’ (third-person singular present indicative) while checking lyrics, since some versions (incorrectly) used the latter instead of the former in the phrase “Thou o’er death hast won.”

There's an interesting history behind this tune, which you may see categorized in hymnals as “Judas Maccabeus”. You see, in 1746 Handel composed an oratorio titled Judas Maccabeus, which became one of his more popular oratorios. The next year in 1747 he composed Joshua, along with this tune. Joshua falls into what I would describe as “solidly average” for Handel; it's not bad by any means, and has its share of high points (I'm particularly fond of “A solemn March during the circumvection[sic] of the Ark of the Covenant”), but mostly didn't achieve the same popularity.

Except for this chorus, which is sometimes rated as Handel's second-most-famous chorus after the “Hallelujah” chorus from Messiah. Noting its popularity, Handel went back and added it into Judas Maccabeus (perhaps in 1751, it's generic enough in wording that it fits), and the combination took off. Then in 1884 the music was used by Swiss hymn writer Edmond Louis Budry as the basis for a new hymn, “À toi la gloire,” or Thine Is the Glory when translated into English.

And that's the story of how a tune composed for one oratorio got named after a different oratorio and ended up in a hymn. (It helps that it's a relatively simple chorus sung in unison without any polyphony, making it pretty easy to sing.) History is truly fascinating sometimes. A hui hou!

Relaxing waves in Hilo bay

I'm starting my new job tomorrow, so I may be a bit preoccupied with that for a while as I settle into a new routine. I know some generalities about what I'll be doing, but the particulars remain to be discovered. (Though I'm expecting to be rather sore and tired for the next week or so.) I'll probably get some posts out of it in the future, at least!

Earlier this week, though, I took the opportunity of some high-surf days to get some drone footage of waves crashing over the breakwater in the bay and turned it into this video:

The observant may remember I did a similar video last year. While that one was taken in overcast, almost stormy conditions, the high surf days this week were on gorgeous, mostly-clear days, which made for a nice contrast. Where I went with some fast-paced music with that video, this one got some calmer music, slower editing, and some nice relaxing wave sounds. Anyway, hope you enjoy it! A hui hou!