Missing but gone…where?
Midway Atoll, April, 2025. © USFWS volunteer Dan Rapp
April 25, 2026
Some kolea watchers who’ve been missing their backyard kōlea since mid April are wondering if the birds left for Alaska early this year. The short answer is probably not. If the birds arrive in their breeding grounds when snow still covers the ground, they could starve.
But when a plover we’ve watched all winter disappears on, say, April 12th, where did it go?
It’s a good question. We know that come April, the birds start gathering in large or small numbers in Hawaiʻi’s fields and grasslands. Over the last few years, we’ve seen groups of 50 or 60 plovers from mid-to-late April forging and resting together in grassy expanses of Ford Island and around Tripler Army Medical Center.
Not this year. Kolea fan, Roger Kobayashi, (retired with military access) has been monitoring the areas and hasn’t seen the usual gatherings. On Thursday, Roger kindly drove three of us to those locations. We saw only 11 birds at Tripler and a few scattered widely on Ford Island. (Roger’s update today: Zero at Tripler, 18 on Ford Island)
The 10 birds we saw at the Tripler Army Medical Center lawn on April 24, 2026. ©Roger Kobayashi
One lone male kōlea stood near some heavy equipment at Tripler Army Medical Center on April 24th. ©Roger Kobayashi
But the kōlea I follow (our Jake in particular, and others in Kailua Beach Park) are still in their usual winter sites as of this writing. So where did the missing birds go?
“We may never figure this out,” said plover expert Wally Johnson when I called him with the question. Without tracking devices on the birds, we don’t know where they go, where individuals in a flock come from, or when they leave for their Arctic breeding grounds. When a single plover or flock flies away, the birds may be relocating somewhere else in Hawaiʻi. Or not. The liftoff could be the Big One, meaning north to Alaska.
Researchers believe that the trigger to migrate comes from a biological clock in each bird’s brain that tracks the length of light, or photoperiod, of each day. Light change causes the production of hormones responsible for molting, weight gain, breeding behavior, and the urge to take flight.
It’s possible that stormy weather, such as our recent Kona winds and flooding, affects departures, but that’s just a guess. Migratory birds are mostly on autopilot, driven by chemical messengers that evolved to give them the best chance of survival.
Some birds are more adaptable than others. One lucky Kailua resident has one kōlea, named Ernie, in the front yard, and one in the backyard, named Bert. Ernie is human-shy. Not Bert, though. Bert comes to the lanai first thing in the morning for the mealworms the homeowners offer. Recently, the bird walked through the …
This molting bird is resting, taking a break from foraging. February 28, 2026 ©Diane Trenhaile (also from a Facebook post.) 
Jake Wonder Bird (at least 9 years old.) April 12, 2025 ©Susan Scott
Jake from our living room. ©Susan Scott 
See the Count site list link (below) for current counting sites. Email me your choice in the CONTACT tab. (Only I can make the X in taken.) See GUIDELINES tab to count. T-shirts help fund the research: 


Everyone loves hugs from our mascot, Kōlea Nui (at the Welcome Home Kōlea celebration.) ©Susan Scott
Kōlea dad with chicks, Nome. ©Wally Johnson
The hat I wore on …
Hawaiʻi Audubon Society’s outreach manager, Elena Arinaga, made these cards to explain our citizen science project Kōlea Count. Get one at Saturday’s kōlea festival (see below.)
Mr. Necker in Wally Johnson’s loving hands, October 22, 2022. ©Susan Scott
Mr. Necker gave me the honor of flying into the mist net I was monitoring at Punchbowl Cemetery. We Hawaiʻi Audubon volunteers were there to recapture the study birds and relieve them of their satellite-tag backpacks. I was so excited that Mr. Necker had made it back, I asked another volunteer to take this picture with my phone.
A happy Wally Johnson checking on Mr. Necker’s feathers. The bird’s tiny backpack did not show any ill affects on the bird’s back or legs. ©Susan Scott
Mr. Necker looking good last week, August 21, 2025. Note that the bird has already shed most of its breeding-colored feathers. If we didn’t know the identity of this bird, we would not be able to tell whether it’s male or female. ©Tom Fake
Close-up of Mr. Necker’s leg bands. ©Tom Fake.
Carolyn calls this bird Jill.
Another photo of a returnee that Suzan Harada sent to Sigrid Southworth who sent it to me. Suzan works at the Palehua baseyard on Tuesdays and photographed this bird on the hose August 5, 2025. 
© Graphic by O.W. Johnson
Three kōlea eggs in a Nome tundra nest June , 2025. Kōlea usually lay four. (Don’t see them? Look below.) ©Susan Scott 
Nome residents call these nonbiting insects midges but some of us know them as gnats. Tundra insects provide chicks with ample food for fast growth. ©Susan Scott
If all goes well, this kōlea chick’s little wings will be flying in about one month. © O.W. Johnson

A September arrival, Oahu North Shore. Because kōlea begin dropping their breeding feathers (molting) while still sitting on eggs in Alaska, it’s impossible to tell males from females when the birds arrive in Hawaiʻi. Some are mottled. This one is already wearing its winter outfit. ©Laura Zoller
This parent is guarding its newly-hatched chicks. Migratory shorebirds have so many obstacles to overcome it’s a miracle of nature that any survive at all. ©Wally Johnson
This kōlea seems to be leading a parade of ʻakekeke, or ruddy turnstones. The species often forage together. Puʻuiki Cemetery in Waialua is one of the places I count. ©Susan Scott
A newly hatched kōlea chick in Alaska. Legs are adult-sized at hatching. ©Wally Johnson
Shorebird parents don’t feed their chicks but follow the youngsters as they forage. Parents sit on their chicks to warm them when weather turns stormy. ©Wally Johnson
When this young plover (left) trespassed on another’s patch, the established owner put up a fight. The squabble occurred in Punchbowl Cemetery. The newcomer moved on. (First year birds have no breeding colors.) ©Susan Scott
Four kōlea: From left, the new kōlea-in-tuxedo flag, mascot Kōlea Nui, volunteer Andres Jojoa Ortega in his EVERY KŌLEA COUNTS T-shirt, and lower right, a curious resident kōlea checking out its namesakes. © Christiaan Phleger
Hawaiʻi Audubon’s Team Kōlea: Foreground from left, Operations Manager Laura Doucette, me, mascot Kōlea Nui, and Education Manager, Elena Arinaga. Left background are Taylor Kim and Charlotte Bender, two of four Kapiolani Community College students who helped with the festival. 

MJ Mazurek gives Kōlea Nui (AKA Josh Fisher) a cold drink of water. Even with an ice-pack vest and a head fan, hugging and dancing with children is hot work. Volunteers took turns wearing the costume. ©Susan Scott
Representatives of the new drink, Kōlea Sparkling Hop Water, (zero alcohol, zero calories) shared the Kōlea Festival with us. Everyone enjoyed the free samples, as well as the company’s logo. ©Susan Scott 