Friends,
A year ago I traveled to the Big Island of Hawaii where I walked for miles across lava on the volcano Kilauea. I couldn’t get enough of that volcano. I peered into its cracks, lay down over its ropy surface, let its smell drench my clothing. I was staying with a friend who was housesitting near Pahoa in the Puna district for a few months. While I was hiking, he was trying to trap wild chickens, build a water catchment system, and sharpen his spear to kill feral pigs. We bought giant avocados and pineapples at the farmer’s market and at night listened to coqui frogs (invasive species from Puerto Rico) sing loudly. Not everyone on that side of the island was carrying a spear but many of them seemed to have run from something at some point. Nearly two weeks ago Kilauea started erupting. The lava came up from fissures and swallowed that house where we’d stayed. I called my friend and said, Pahoa is burning. He said he’d left an expensive hunting bow in the house. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the wild pigs. Where will they go? Continue reading here…
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