Kuʻu wahi manu, ʻelua ona nuku - My little bird that has two beaks. Riddling is just one of the many fascinating things that our kūpuna did with language. For those highly skilled in hoʻopāpā (contests of wits and riddling) the stakes of competition where high and lives could be lost. For others, posing and solving nane was, and still is, a relaxing pastime. We have great mahalo for the nane that have survived the ages, as they give us insight into how our kūpuna saw their world and the intricate web of relationships that make up life. The waʻa kaulua (double-hulled canoe), is the haʻina (answer) to the nane above. There are many nane having to do with waʻa, as they were central to the lives of Hawaiians and many Pacific peoples. We would like to acknowledge the late Master Navigator Mau Piailug of Satawal, Micronesia, whose aloha and deep knowledge made possible the relearning of traditional navigation. Me ʻoe nō ka mahalo pau ʻole e ke kupuna. E mau ke ea ou!

The word nananana (also lanalana) is just one term for spider, but itʻs such a fun word that we had to bring it to you on a shirt. What you are looking at here are actually examples of endemic Hawaiian wolf spiders, or peʻepeʻemakawalu. One species, Adelocosa anops, (a.k.a. "big-eyed, no-eyed" wolf spider) lives only in damp caves on Kauaʻi. Although this species is totally blind, it hunts down its prey (shrimp- like land hoppers called amphipods) instead of weaving a web to catch it in. In fact, it uses its front legs to detect sound waves - scientists call it "acoustic hunting." E nā keiki (hey kids), wouldnʻt it be crazy if you could hear with your wāwae (feet)?!! The second spider on this shirt represents members of the genus Lycosa that are found way up high on Mauna Kea (Hawaiʻi Island) and Haleakalā (Maui). Unlike their Kauaʻi cousins, these spiders can see. They catch various bugs by ambush, or, at higher elevations (they have been found as high as 13,796 ft.!), eat whatever the wind blows up. Like so many creatures of the natural world, our kūpuna made a dance for the spider called the hula peʻepeʻemakawalu. How cool is that?!

Remembering our place in the order of things is important, yet seems increasingly difficult for humans. Animals like manō (sharks) remind us how powerless we are when we enter their aqueous realm. There are manō who protect (manō kiaʻi and manō aliʻi) and manō who harm (manō ʻai kanaka - sharks that eat people). Each ʻāina had its own manō kiaʻi whose job was to protect the people from other manō entering those waters seeking to prey on them or cause trouble. Some manō kiaʻi were ʻaumākua (guardians) who were cared for daily by a family member, like Kaʻahupāhau, defender of Puʻuloa. Protectors versus predators is also one of the undeniable dynamics of the human experience. There have always been those who perpetuate violence and harm (whether physical, emotional, or spiritual) and those who seek to protect people and places from it. Kahalaopuna, the beauty from the Kahaukani wind and the Tuahine rain of Mānoa, died by the abusive hand of her kāne, Kauhi, who then took on the form of a manō ʻai kanaka. During her lifetime, she was a very skilled surfer who frequented the shores of Kou. When you surf Kalehuawehe, envision Kahalaopuna out in the lineup, upstaging Kauhi and Oʻahu chief Kākuhihewa as she expertly rides the best wave of the day without wetting her lei of lehua and ʻilima (he kāʻeʻaʻeʻa pulu ʻole nō). Also recall the manō kiaʻi who have defended that very break, like Kaʻahupāhau, Kahiʻukā and Kaʻehuikimanōopuʻuloa (his story on back).

The higher a mountain is, the more perspective it offers and the more opportunities there are for uniqueness to spring up. Take Haleakalā, for example. At 7,000 ft., stunning vistas of distant mountains and deep arching bays spread out toward the west. Turn 180 degrees and the rest of this 10,000+ foot volcano rises steep before you. The air is clean and crisp up this high and beautiful native plants abound. In this transition zone between barren rock and rainforest, rainfall is not very abundant, so Lilinoe, goddess of the mist, nourishes these plants with her mist and fog. Amidst species such as pūkiawe, ʻaʻaliʻi, ʻōhelo and māmane, you will find the plant honored in this design: nohoanu (a.k.a. hinahina, Geranium cuneatum subsp. tridens). Its small white blossoms twinkle like stars. Its leaves are pale moonlight silver (an adaptation unique to high elevation plants), covered in fine silky hairs and tipped with three small teeth (tridens means "three teeth" in Latin). This lofty height is the only place in the world this species grows, but other species of Hawaiian geraniums can be found on the tall mountains of Hawaiʻi and Kauaʻi. There are 6 endemic species total, all bearing the name nohoanu.

He uʻi māhinahina - A pale moonlight beauty.

He ʻai ko uka, he iʻa ko kai, ua kūʻonoʻono nō ka nohona - There is kalo on land and other foods in the ocean, the lifestyle is comfortable and prosperous.

Hawaiʻi has always been associated with flowers that are either bright and flashy (bird-of-paradise and jungly "tropicals"), or extremely fragrant (pīkake, pua kenikeni, etc.). The funny thing is none of them are native. Hawaiʻi's native flowers are much more subtle in both color and scent. Nāʻū and nānū are Hawaiian names for three species of native Gardenia: G. brighamii, G. mannii, and G. remyi. Once occurring in the dry forests of all the main islands, only 13 wild individuals of G. brighamii remain between Oʻahu and Lānaʻi. Oʻahu endemic G. manii is uncommon in mesic to wet forests. G. remyi is occasionally found in the same forest types on Kauaʻi, Molokai, Maui, and Hawaiʻi. Native Gardenia flowers are less showy than the widely cultivated, many-petaled white Gardenia, and their fragrance is softer (with a hint of coconut), inspiring this ʻōlelo: Kilihea i ke onaona - Drenched in soft fragrance. They were strung into lei, like those given to Kamehameha's warriors on a visit to Kaunolū, Lānaʻi (a favorite vacation spot of this chief). Kapa dye was made from the bright yellow-orange fruit pulp, and the hard wood of the trunk was carved into kua kuku kapa (kapa-beating anvils).

Ke hoʻōla hou ʻia kekahi hana Hawaiʻi, ʻo ka pahuhopu nui, e hoʻōla pū ʻia mai kona mau huaʻōlelo kūpono. ʻAʻole naʻe ia he niau palanehe wale nō me ka maʻalahi loa. I kekahi manawa, he loaʻa liʻiliʻi mai nā huaʻōlelo i loko o ke au ʻana o ka manawa. Pēia nō paha ka huaʻōlelo no ia mea he “watermark.” Ke waiho nei nō kekahi mau inoa lau ponoʻī (maka ʻupena, iwi puhi, a pēlā aku), ʻaʻohe naʻe huaʻōlelo hoʻokahi i maopopo no ia huina lau. I nānā aku ka hana i ke kumu, ua loaʻa kā kekahi mea kūpono paha: ʻo ka nao hoʻōki. E kaulona aku i kā Kamakau no ka āio (grooves) a me ka nao (ridges or raised areas) o ka iʻe kuku: “...inā he iʻe kuku pepehi, he iʻe kuku nunui ia o ka nao, a ʻo ka iʻe kuku hoʻopaʻi o ke kapa, he ʻuʻuku iho ka nao, a ʻo ka iʻe kuku hoʻōki, a hoʻomaikaʻi loa i ke kapa he makaliʻi loa ia, he kahuahāʻao (uahāʻao), he ʻolē, he mole, he uananahuki a me nā nao hoʻōki he lehulehu a ka poʻe loea kuku...” ʻO ia mau nao hōʻike he lehulehu i ʻōlelo ʻia aʻela, na ke kahuna hole iʻe kuku ia o ka wā ma mua. Ke waiho nei ma nā iʻe kuku he 650 o ka Hale Hōʻikeʻike o Bīhopa a he kupanaha maoli nō ke nānā aku. Ma hope o ka hiki ʻana mai o ka haole me kona lole kīnohinohi, māhuahua aʻela nā lau like ʻole o ka nao hoʻōki. ʻO ka uahāʻao naʻe paha kekahi nao hoʻōki kahiko i laha i ka wā ma mua: “...ke kīhei uahāʻao i kuku ʻia e ko Hawaiʻi nei, a ua kapa ʻia e ka poʻe kahiko a hiki iho nei i kēia hanauna, ua ʻōlelo mau ʻia ia kapa he uahāʻao. ʻAʻole nō paha i nalowale kekahi o ia kapa i waena o kēia lāhui e noho nei i kēia wā ma nā ʻāina kuaʻāina.” (Kepakaʻiliʻula, 1865)

It’s hard to believe that cloth made from the inner bark of a small tree can range from lace and gossamer to corduroy and canvas, but Hawaiian kapa truly runs the gamut of types and textures. The finer, more lightweight varieties of kapa bear the dazzling and sophisticated feature unique to Hawaiian bark cloth: the watermark. These are textural patterns seen only when the cloth is held up to the light. They are carved into the iʻe kuku (four-sided beater) and beat into the kapa in its final stage of manufacture. The wauke fibers must be retted (broken down through a process akin to fermentation) in order to be soft and yielding enough to receive and hold these delicate markings. Wauke varieties such as poʻaʻaha and mālolo are best for watermarking, as the thick, coarse fibers of wauke nui do not ret well. Roughly a dozen or so geometric motifs have been used in a huge range of combinations by Hawaiian carvers to produce a fascinating array of watermark patterns, best seen on the roughly 650 iʻe kuku held at the Bishop Museum. Today, contemporary carvers remix old themes and create new ones. Watermark patterns can have personal significance to a kapa maker who may use them with a specific intention in mind. Iʻe kuku with multiple patterns, like the one that inspired this design, are rare and represent a high point in the evolution of this incredible art form. For this design we chose to layer the traditional patterns known as pūʻili hāluʻa, hāluʻa pūpū, and iwi puhi.

Of all the kinolau (physical manifestations) of the god Kū, the niu (Cocos nucifera) is perhaps the proudest and most majestic looking of them all. Every single part of the niu tree has a name because our kūpuna used them all. Food, shelter, ceremony, hula implements, medicine and more; the niu touched nearly every aspect of traditional life. As a form of Kū, a male deity, women did not consume the flesh of the niu and only worked with certain parts of the plant in limited aspects. Niu invites chiefly references like nane (riddle): Ka nīʻau piʻo e keha ai ka haku - The arched leaf frond that dignifies the chief (an offspring of nīʻau piʻo mating). To incite a war, one chief would go and cut down the niu in the territory of another chief, as Keōuakūʻahuʻula did in Keʻei before the famous battle of Mokuʻōhai where his forces clashed with Kamehamhea's. Large ulu niu (coconut groves) were really common on all the islands in times past, but are becoming increasingly rare today. Development is a huge threat to ulu niu, but so are introduced pests such as the Coconut Rhinoceros Beetle that eats the sap and new tissues in the growing apex of the trees. One of the special inspirations behind this design was Kapuāiwa, the coconut grove on Molokai. Planted in the 1860's, this grove was once ten acres big, but is still home to hundreds of trees today. They are being attacked by a coconut mite, however, that makes deep crack and scars in the trees and causes the nuts to drop prematurely. Read on below for more about threats to our ulu niu and how you can help. Kū haʻaheo - Stand proud.

We all want to help protect our ulu niu, so please visit the links below so that you can stay informed and do your part!

Visit these link for good basic descriptions of the Coconut Rhinoceros Beetle: http://www.oahuisc.org/coconut-rhinoceros-beetle/

https://www.ctahr.hawaii.edu/adap/ASCC_Landgrant/Dr_Brooks/BrochureNo8.pdf

If you see the Coconut Rhinoceros Beetle in your area, report it via the contact info at this site: http://dlnr.hawaii.gov/hisc/info/reporting/

For a whole pile of awesome cultural info on niu, check out this write up by @naneaarmstrongwassel : https://www.instagram.com/p/_5hoWLvJ74/?taken-by=naneaarmstrongwassel

Nā Iʻa Kupua o ka Moana I ka wā e ʻike ai ʻo Pūpūkanioe, ke kupunawahine o Kūʻīlioloa, i ke koko o kāna moʻopuna e lana ana i ke kai, kāhea ʻo ia i nā kūpuna kāne kupua, iā Niuhimoalawaokamoana, Hīhīmanunui, a me Puhilaumilo a hele ai e kōkua i ka moʻopuna e make ana iā Loheloa: ʻO nā puhi a pau o ke kai ma kekahi pōʻai, ʻo nā hīhīmanu nō hoʻi a pau ma kekahi pōʻai, a ʻo nā manō me nā niuhi nō hoʻi o ke kai ma kekahi pōʻai; a hoʻokahi nō ʻo Puaʻahiwalani me kona nui kino humuhumu. Ua hui kēia mau ʻaoʻao ʻelua i kahi hoʻokahi, a ua hoʻomaka ʻia kekahi hoʻouka kaua ikaika loa ma waena o lākou. Ma kēia hakakā ʻana a ua poʻe hiena nei o ka moana, ua make ihola ʻo Puhilaumilo a me kona poʻe iā Puaʻahiwalani; a he nui nō hoʻi o kona mau kino lau manamana i pau i ke ale ʻia e nā niuhi moalawa o ka moana kai uli, kai hohonu. Ke ʻike maila nō ʻo Loheloa i kēia paio ʻana o kona hoa ʻau kai (Puaʻahiwalani) me nā kupua ʻekolu o ka mokupuni o Pūpūkanioe, a ʻo kona manawa nō ia i hopu aʻe ai i ka ʻāʻī o Kūʻīlioloa a wiliwili aʻela i ua ʻīlio nei, e like me ke kanaka e wiliwili ana i ka ʻāʻī o kekahi moa kāne. Ke kūpaka nei hoʻi ua ʻīlio kupua nei me kona ikaika a pau, akā he ʻole kona hemo mai loko aku o nā ʻumiʻi pūkani ʻana a Loheloa. I kēia wā i kāhea iho ai ka leo o ka mauli ʻuhane o ua ʻīlio nei iā Loheloa i ka ʻī ʻana iho, “E Loheloa—ē! E ola au iā ʻoe, ke kama ikaika o Hawaiʻi Kuauli. Ola au iā oe, noho kauā aku nō hoʻi au ma lalo ou.”

With Koaiʻe as his canoe and his paddle Hoakakaihoeakalawakua, Loheloa set out on his second trip to Kuaihelani. He made his way up the island chain, battling the most powerful aliʻi and kupua (shapeshifting supernaturals) of each island. With him was his own kupua pig companion, Puaʻahiwalani. After defeating all of his opponents, Loheloa had a final feast on Kauaʻi, then set out on the last leg of his journey. As he paddled forward, the island faded from view, then Niʻihau also disappeared into the blue depths. The sea became rough and ominous clouds overhead warned of impending danger. A massive waterspout moved rapidly towards Loheloa’s canoe, then Kūʻīlioloa, the kupua monk seal, reared up from the ocean. It towered over him, jaws wide open, ready to swallow him whole. Loheloa stuck his paddle into the seal’s mouth so it couldn’t close its jaws, then reached in and pulled its guts out. Blood poured forth and quickly drifted on the currents over the limu ʻeleʻele, turning it red (the origin of limu koko). It washed onto the beach and Kūʻīlioloa’s grandmother, Pūpūkanioe, picked it up, smelled her grandchild’s blood, and immediately sent Niuhimoalawaokamoana, Hīhīmanunui, and Puhilaumilo to the rescue. Puaʻahiwalani turned into a school of humuhumu and a full out ocean battle ensued. Puhilaumilo fell first and Kūʻīlioloa knew his kūpuna were no match for Loheloa. His spirit begged for mercy, so Loheloa restored his life and ended the battle. They reached a truce and Loheloa continued, uninterrupted, to the shores of Kuaihelani.

The plant and fish species that share this name do so for good reason: they have spiny defenses that you do not want to find underfoot (or too close to any parts of your body). Tribulus cistoides is a low-growing indigenous shrub found throughout the Hawaiian Islands in coastal habitats, which are the most rare habitat type in the main islands. Its bright yellow blooms develop into fruits with a tough, spiny outside opened only by the powerful beak of the Laysan finch (Telespiza cantans). These poky treats are the bird's main food source. The blossoms were also used by our kūpuna in a practice called kā ʻōhiki or paeaea ʻōhiki, where they used the blossom as bait to catch sand crabs. Scorpaenopsus brevifrons won't win the fish beauty contest, but there's no denying how cool this species is with its cryptic appearance, venemous spines, and ambush predator behaviors. Also known as the short snout scorpion fish, this species is endemic to Hawaii and is becoming rare in our local waters. Its more lethal relatives are found throughout the Pacific (stone fish and scorpion fish). E neneʻe, moe pākiʻi, kākala, kukū, kū aku ē!  Creep, lie low, spines, thorns, poke um!

Kuʻu imu ahi ʻole o ke kai - My fireless imu of the ocean. This ʻōlelo was inspired by an account of a riddling contest between two men named Okoe and Kamiki. The "imu manini" was one of several kinds of "imu" that Kamiki was challenged to figure out.

The noio, a.k.a. black noddy or Anous minutus, is an indigenous seabird found in Hawaiʻi and throughout the tropics. The two subspecies in Hawaiʻi are A. s. melanogenys in the main Hawaiian Islands and A. s. marcusi in the Northwest Hawaiian Islands. Also called laehina (white brow), the white feathers of the noio's head contrast with the black feathers of its body. These two-toned beauties nest in rocky ledges, caves, sea cliffs and sometimes trees. They leave the comfort of their nests during the day to hunt on the open ocean where they feed on small fish driven to the surface by schools of larger predatory fish such as aku (bonito). Thus, their presence at sea shows fisherman where they might get lucky and signals to navigators that land is near. The largest populations of noio are on Nihoa and Midway, as there are no rats or cats - the alien predators that trouble them on the main islands. In the creation chant known as Kumulipo, the noio is paired with the illustrious ʻio (the Hawaiian hawk). In metaphor, a wise person is likened to the noio (see ʻŌlelo Noʻeau 844), inspiring the ʻōlelo seen here: Ke ʻaʻe aʻela i nā ʻale o ke kai loa - Treading the billows of the distant sea.

ancestors when they navigated the great expanse of Kanaloa.

He hōkū alakaʻi no ke ao - A guiding star of the day.