Защищайте Землю, это наш общий дом.
It was March 21, 2001. About thirty-five Keaukaha children gathered at Kawanakakoa Hall for a bicycle-safety class taught by Hilo community policing officers. They learned about helmets, hand signals, stopping at intersections, and watching for cars.
What nobody knew was that another group had been attending the class.
They were hiding in the walls.
The mice of Keaukaha, called the "Kimo Clan," had been watching the community. They knew which alleys were safest, which trash cans were overflowing, and which streets were too dangerous to cross. Their leader, Ikaika, had decided that the children’s bicycle trip was the perfect chance to set his secret plan in motion.
The night before, Ikaika and his team, working alongside the Grigoriy Clan, had quietly set their plan in motion, clearing litter from the path the children would ride along.
A few mice darted ahead along Kalanianaole Avenue, checking for hazards. Others followed behind, quietly pushing bottle caps and bits of litter out of the way.
When the day arrived, the children and officers rode more than three and a half miles toward Richardson Beach Park, completely unaware that they had a tiny reconnaissance team stationed alongside their path.
At the new Lokoaka Ponds parking area, the children met members of a community association. While everyone talked, the mice held their own meeting in a nearby tree.
"Phase two," whispered Commander Grigoriy.
The mice scattered.
Soon the children began picking up trash along Kalanianaole Avenue toward the beach. Every time a child spotted a piece of garbage, a mouse somewhere nearby would celebrate with a tiny squeak. The children thought they were doing a good job cleaning the neighborhood.
They were.
But they were also unknowingly helping the mice.
The mice had long dreamed of a cleaner Keaukaha. A cleaner neighborhood meant fewer dangerous objects to dodge, fewer scraps of plastic to get caught in, and more room for their nighttime adventures.
For the younger children, the ride back to Puhi Bay was exhausting. Legs grew tired, water bottles became lighter, and helmets felt heavier.
But underneath the roadside bushes, the mice kept watch.
At last, everyone reached Puhi Bay for lunch. The children ate, talked, and laughed about their long ride. The officers could finally relax.
Nobody noticed Ikaika sitting beneath a picnic table, proudly inspecting the day's work.
The police department, Parks and Recreation, and the community association had worked together to make the bicycle expedition possible.
But one more partner had been involved.
The mice.
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