By Bob Krauss
Advertiser Columnist

I held my own memorial service for Jack Wyatt the other day by walking amid the mangroves at the lower end of Manoa Stream. A flock of contented, well-fed ducks attended.

Wyatt was the innocent bystander who got pushed into the Ala Wai on June 18, hit his head and drowned before anybody found him. It's fitting that he spent his last moments on the Ala Wai because the canal was one of his favorite places.

For as long as I have walked there, he was the icon, the most familiar person, the 'aumakua of the canal. Every morning that tall, lanky figure dressed in shorts, a backpack slung over one shoulder, ambled along the promenade.

He was as brown and wrinkled as a walnut. Some of his teeth were missing. I remembered him as a sportswriter for the Star-Bulletin from years ago, a marathon runner.

What never stopped was Wyatt's quiet, unassuming appreciation of a glorious, Hawaiian morning when the air is brisk and the sun makes magic on shimmering leaves and the big surprise is a fish jumping out of the water.

He'd stop his long, loping stride and say, "It doesn't get any better than this."

A lot of people walk along the Ala Wai. Wyatt knew all the regulars by their first names. He was like a mailman stopping to talk to residents along his route to exchange the latest gossip.

"How many kolea did you count today?"

"Did you see the mama and her little ducks?"

The ducks have added a new dimension to a walk along the canal. People used to feed only pigeons, doves, mongooses and stray cats. Some people bring bird seed, bread and cat food.

When the ducks appeared on the jungle-covered banks of lower Manoa Stream, everybody scurried to the pet store for a new supply.

By this time, the ducks are so fat they can hardly waddle. Their fans were horrified when a scoundrel shot one with an arrow. They immediately called the Humane Society. A boat rowed up the stream and rescued the duck.

Wyatt preferred to merely watch, not try to improve and tame things. One morning he walked faster than usual.

"Have you seen the geese?" he said. "They're this high."

He held his hand up to his waist and added with reverence, "To think we're right in the middle of the city. It's a miracle."

He was very impatient with people who didn't notice miracles. On his way down from Manoa where he lived, he saw a kolea in a schoolyard. Wyatt went inside and told the teacher she should explain to the students that this bird flew all the way from Alaska.

"She didn't know what I was talking about," he grumbled.

One morning we watched together as the National Guard dragged a tree stump out of the canal. It's not the same without Wyatt to share excitement like that.

Reach Bob Krauss at 525-8073.