I remember Hilo B.C. … Before Coqui.
When I came home late after a stitch-and-bitch session with my girlfriends (we’re know-it-all knitters), I might have occasionally heard a cricket but usually nothing, not even a muffled TV. It was cemeterial.
“Is this how the end will be?” I wondered.
Could be worse, I guess.
So B.C. nights were quiet in Hilo, “eerily quiet,” according to a newcomer who was so unsettled by the stillness that he felt compelled to write a letter to the editor of the daily newspaper. I thought it was strange, not the eerily-quiet part, but the letter-writing part. Maybe he needs a knitting group. Or maybe, I said out loud, maybe Hilo’s not for you mister!
But what’s even weirder is that shortly after his letter was published, the coqui arrived. It gave me pause. He must have friends in high places and I’d better shut my big mouth.
In case you also just arrived and don’t know about coqui, they’re dainty little frogs with huge vocal cords. Originally from Puerto Rico, these noisemakers are nocturnal and in rural Hawaii’s still and silent nights, they sound even louder as they call out to potential mates.
Various rumors abound regarding how the frogs got to Hawaii Island. One speculation is via big box stores that brought in, for those bored with orchids and yearning for petunias, mainland plants infested with coqui eggs.
Another rumor is that after unpacking new flora, a nursery owner in Mountain View noticed the mosquitoes disappeared from his hothouse. He started hearing ear-splitting two-note chirps at night, discovered the little frogs and shared them with neighbors who also wanted to be rid of mosquitoes. And the rest, as people like to say, is history.
I’m sure there are other stories, but the immutable fact is that coqui are now everywhere on the Big Island and thanks to ideal conditions with no natural predator, they’re getting bigger and singing fancier tunes. Sometimes I hear them as late as 10 a.m. and as early as 4 p.m. and predict that before long, a diurnal branch will evolve to take over when the nocturnals go to sleep.
As with all pests arriving in these islands, we struggle to find a plan of action. Some suggest throwing in the towel and getting used to it, but what’s the fun in that because just off the top of my head, I got a few ideas.
First, we pitch this movie proposal to Disney or Pixar: an adorable little frog named Carlito hops onto a boat leaving San Juan, falls asleep on a long ocean voyage and wakes up to find himself in another tropical but decidedly different place. The petite amphibian looks around, hears no familiar sounds and starts wailing for his mommy. As giant tears roll down his bumpy face, our cute coqui is befriended by Kimo, a kind keiki studying Spanish at Kaumana School. The story now revolves around the two amigos looking for a way to get Carlito back to Puerto Rico. And as with all Disney movies, once it’s a huge hit, everybody will want their own little Carlito. Fast-buck frog hunters swoop onto the island to scoop up all the coqui to sell at mainland pet shops. Hawaii state officials declare unlawful the importation and sale of frogs in the islands even if they have all their immunizations, and voila. Aloha and adios coqui.
Another idea is that once the frogs get too big and fat to move quickly, we can easily catch them to add to our local menus. Hawaiian salt, limu kohu, inamona and now we offer you coqui poke. If raw, salted frog is not your cup of tea, then we’ll dip them in egg, roll in Panko, deep fry in coconut oil and artfully arrange on a bed of arugula, slices of Tahitian lime on the side. They’ll be part of la nouvelle cuisine of the islands. Cutting-edge chefs will raise them in escape-proof cages on their coqui farms in Ahualoa.
Give me time and I’ll come up with more fantastic ideas. How about you?
Rochelle delaCruz was born in Hilo, graduated from Hilo High School, then left to go to college. After teaching for 30 years in Seattle, she retired and returned home to Hawaii. Rochelle welcomes your comments at rainysideview@gmail.com. Her column appears the second and fourth Mondays of each month.