For more than 30 years, classical music lovers in Hawaii have been enchanted by the lovely oboe playing of Scott Janusch, principal oboist for the Hawai‘i Symphony Orchestra and a member of Chamber Music Hawaii. He has felt the appreciation expressed in the cheers from the audience when he takes his bows.

Now Janusch is paying it back with a magnificent new oboe, made from precious, old-growth kauila wood from Kauai. His Hawaiian Oboe Legacy Project includes a new oboe concerto by local composer Jon Magnussen, who blended ancient Hawaiian culture with Western music in his challenging work. Janusch and a chamber ensemble are debuting the work this spring at various venues around the island.

The oboe is Janusch’s gift to the community. He will play it for one year, after which Live Music Awareness, a nonprofit that is raising $40,000 for the project, will control its future. Janusch expects other oboists will get to play it, that Magnussen’s work will be performed again on it, and that more new oboe compositions will be debuted on it.

“This can serve as a really unique bridge between the ancient culture and today’s culture,” Janusch said. “The resource is so old, and it’s so special, that it really can serve that role as an ambassador, raising awareness about the need to preserve the aina, the importance of the resource and its significance. Hopefully it will have a very active life going forward.”

THE CREATION of the oboe is a story worthy of a ballad, with acts of generosity and trust by a cast of colorful characters. It represents a revival, a bringing back to life.

Janusch had long wanted to have an instrument made of a Hawaiian wood, but when he sent a piece of koa to an instrument maker many years ago, it was rejected. “I didn’t know what to look for,” Janusch said.

In 2016, on a visit to Kauai for a concert, Janusch met Mickey Sussman, a luthier based in Anahola. Sussman has built instruments for star island musicians Ray Kane and Roland Cazimero, as well rocker as Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead.

Years earlier, Sussman was given a large piece of kauila by Hawaiian storyteller Ed Kaiwi, who had harvested it in Kokee from a tree believed to have been felled by Hurricane Iniki.

Sussman sensed a sacred quality in the wood, which later was determined to be 250 to 300 years old. He used some of the kauila to make a ukulele for Kaiwi and an ark for a local Jewish congregation, but saved the rest.

“I could never have used it to build an instrument to sell,” said Sussman, who also is involved in a project to replant native trees on Kauai. “But this is a ‘public trust’ instrument, which was a big deal about why I decided to go through with this project.”

Sussman gave some of the wood to Janusch, who took it to Howarth of London, a maker of oboes, clarinets and other reed instruments. It presented a unique, if somewhat risky opportunity to Howarth director Jeremy Walsworth, who knew nothing about kauila. He and Janusch entered into a “gentlemen’s agreement” to evaluate and test the wood at no cost.

“It was the first time we’ve actually taken on a project like this,” Walsworth said. “It was a bit of a gamble.”

BEFORE HOWARTH turns a piece of wood into an instrument, it subjects the wood to a simple yet painstaking curing process. A hole is bored into it, and it is placed near an air compressor that by day powers the shop’s tools. At night, the compressor is turned off, subjecting the wood to the night air of England.

“Basically we’re treating the wood as badly as we can,” Walsworth said with a laugh. “Hot, dry air during the day, cold during the night, and probably a bit damp at night, too. If it’s going to crack or warp or move, we want it to get it out of its system.”

Periodically the hole is measured, to the hundredths of a millimeter, then redrilled. The process is repeated until there are no changes seen in the hole, indicating that the wood is stable.

The vast majority of reed instruments are made of grenadilla, an African hardwood that usually takes five years to cure. The kauila took less than three.

Transformed by Howarth, it is now an elegant instrument that radiates warmth. With its polished, reddish-­brown finish and delicate grain set off by 18-karat gold-plated keys, it is a masterpiece of art as much as it is a means of creating art.

Played side-by-side with a regular oboe, it seems to a layman’s ear to have a more focused tonal center. What has most impressed Janusch is that its “scale” — the accuracy of pitch and overall tonal consistency — was flawless from the outset, needing none of the adjustment that “factory-fresh” oboes often need.

“The only other professional oboe player besides me who has played it was my teacher, Elaine Douvas (oboist for New York’s Metropolitan Opera and teacher at many renowned music schools). The first thing she noticed was how even the scale is,” said Janusch, giving credit to Howarth’s craftsmanship.

Magnussen, a Kauai native, researched kauila (species Alphitonia ponderosa) as he composed his piece, which is for oboe, piano, string quartet, marimba and several Hawaiian percussion instruments. He discovered that ancient Hawaiians prized kauila for its toughness and strength, which made it perfect for tools.

“This kauila wood and other hardwoods permeated the experience of the people who lived in old Hawaii. It was part of everyday life,” said Magnussen. “So how do I acknowledge that?”

He found inspiration in “The Four Seasons,” composed by the Italian master Vivaldi around 1716 or 1717, about the time the kauila tree was sprouting on Kauai. Vivaldi’s melodies are quoted in the opening of Magnussen’s work, which is named “Na Kau Elua (The Two Seasons),” representing Hawaii’s wet and dry seasons. Its 12 short movements, referring to the 12 moons of the Hawaiian year, are named for old Hawaiian stories involving kauila implements, such as “The Netting Needle” and “Kawelu’s Spear.”

The piece demands a lot from the oboist. One movement requires Janusch to play “multiphonic tones” — two notes at the same time — while another, titled “The Bird Catcher’s Pole,” requires him to hold a note steady for well over a minute.

“The bird catcher is a very patient person. He’s just sitting there waiting for the birds to come,” Janusch said. “So I come in on this one note, and I hold it, and keep holding it, and keep holding it.”

Sustaining the note will require Janusch to simultaneously inhale and exhale, a technique called circular breathing rarely needed in the oboe repertoire.

“I wanted to honor his ability,” Magnussen said. “I didn’t want to write something too easy, but something that came from here (pointing to his heart) that really made his oboe sing.”

Janusch’s first reed instrument was clarinet, but he switched to oboe in fifth grade after hearing one in concert. “I tell people the oboe chose me,” said Janusch, who is also an accomplished pianist. “It was a good choice.”

He seemed destined to work in a place like Hawaii; after studies in his native California, New York and Ohio, his first full-time job was in Jamaica, his second in Mexico. He came here in 1987 and became the symphony’s principal oboist the next year. “I’ve lived in nice climates,” he said.

As is often the case with a musician and his instrument, the new oboe is a living thing to Janusch, and he’s enjoying working with his “new friend” as they prepare for upcoming concerts.

“We need to find our voice, and that’s a process,” he said. “Over these last few rehearsals, I think we’ve come to a meeting of the minds.”