Pau The last song of the Kaua'i ʻOʻO

For hundreds of thousands of years, the 'ō'ō bird flourished on Kaua'i, singing from the trees. Human arrival and accompanying fauna pushed the 'ō'ō further inland, away from the new villages and gardens, but plenty of habitable space remained. The eighteenth century brought European settlers and more ecologically devastating creatures, and expanding farms and towns forced the bird into inhospitable areas. In the 1980s, concern for the dwindling 'ō'ō population sent researchers scouting for the elusive birds; one remaining male was recorded calling for a nonexistent mate, and the 'ō'ō was last heard on April 29, 1987. Pau--the Hawaiian word for "finished"--is a haunting introduction to both a beautiful little bird and the concept of human-induced extinction. The immersive illustrations are cleverly time stamped to give readers an indication of how quickly the birds disappeared, and the 'ō'ō's song is made visible as a delicate wisp floating poignantly through the pages. Extensive back matter includes a QR code that leads to the recording of the song. A remarkably moving meditation on extinction and an impassioned call for conservation.

An elegy for a songbird native to the island of Kaua'i--once common, now vanished. Explaining that the title is the Hawaiian word for "finished" or "all done," Piedra and Joy retrace the history of a small bird whose song "filled the Island" for hundreds of thousands of years. A first wave of Polynesian settlers, followed by others, along with invasive species and diseases after Captain James Cook's visit in 1778, forced a retreat into steadily vanishing forests and a decline in numbers until, after years of fruitless searches, the bird was officially declared extinct in 2021. In the illustrations, native species of several sorts (keyed by a labeled gallery at the end) pose in lush, misty tropical settings that give way to cultivated fields and then settled towns as a racially diverse population of human figures grows. Succinct verse, tinged with melancholy, brings the tale to a somber close: "One 'ō'ō left on the Island. / One 'ō'ō left in the world, still singing." According to the closing timeline, an 'ō'ō was last seen in 1985 and last heard in 1987; thanks to a QR code in the backmatter, readers can hear the 'ō'ō's liquid song…if only in a field recording. A terse, poignant, richly illustrated, all-too-common story. (more information on the 'ō'ō, bibliography, websites) (Informational picture book. 6-9) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.