In my time on Kauai, there was one creature I came to appreciate.  

No, not the surprisingly graceful green sea turtle.  

Not the majestic humpback whale. 

Not even the endangered Hawaiian monk seal. 

It was the much-maligned feral chicken. 

I know. Of all Hawaii's beautiful creations, why would chickens leave such an impression?

To be sure, many Kauai locals did not appreciate these colorful chickens, which were and still are quite abundant. To put it nicely, they are considered a great nuisance for the messes and even destruction they leave in their wake, relentless early morning rooster wakeup calls and their habit of running into traffic. 

Such is the dislike, bills have been considered in the Hawaii Legislature to allow residents to kill feral chickens. Some do kill them. 

I understood why, but didn’t think it was right. 

Some found my efforts to be kind to chickens ill-founded, fueled by ignorance. 

I actually came to like them and tried to help them. I braked for chickens, which was not always appreciated. I found them to be smart, protective of their young and having good memories. I admired their ability to survive. Plus, they were good at eating cockroaches, which are also in good supply in Hawaii and had a nasty habit of surprising me when I opened a cupboard door.

I often bought seed to feed chickens and kept it in my Honda Fit. They quickly picked up on this. In the mornings, they would wait patiently in our lanai, peeking in the windows, waiting for me to wake up. In the evenings after I arrived home, they would suddenly appear, rushing from the brush and from across the street.  

When running some mornings, it was my habit to park near Vidinha Stadium and head out for 5 miles or so. On my return, I would finish about 50 yards beyond my car. Each time, as I walked back to the car, I turned around to see about 50 chickens following me, like I was the Pied Piper. They remembered. 

Another time, a hen and her baby chicks were venturing onto a busy street after a bread roll someone had tossed there. I jogged over, much to the annoyance of some drivers, stopped traffic and kicked the bread roll to the sidewalk so they would eat safely. 

Once, I came across a baby chicken on a road in the hot sun. Injured, it had been left behind, unable to keep up with its family. I picked it up and set it in the shade. I knew it would not last much longer but couldn't just leave it there. 

A time that stuck with me to this day came when I was running and rounded a bushy corner to surprise a hen and her babies. As the little ones scurried for cover, the mother stopped behind them and held her wings up, trying to shield them from danger. It was a moment that changed my view of chickens. 

So why am I telling you this? 

Hawaii is stunningly beautiful. But chickens, as crazy as it seems, are also beautiful in their own way and deserve a place in that paradise.

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Bill Buley is managing editor of The Press. He can be reached at [email protected].