The Adventure of the Freckeld Snake Eel

       The title of this blog reminds me mightily of a tale woven by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.  Its tempting to write the blog in the manner of the short story written by the classical master.   However, there was very little

Mi Amigo Pepe

in the way of mystery, no one dies and I believe that Sandra would prefer not to be referred to as Watson.  So I'll play it straight.  Maybe not.
     
    The tale begins on a day earlier in the week, when the cruise ship was in.  The pier was crowded with tourists and various concessionaires were pandering to same.  I was swimming solo that day.  Dr. Watson, excuse me, Sandra doesn't share my strange voyeuristic attraction to the patrons of the Carnival Lines and frequently opts out of a trip to the pier and the ensuing swim on those days.  In this instance it was just as well.  The sea was bumpy, cloudy and there was a strong current.  The saving grace was a lady of  dark Hispanic visage and her super attractive pooch bedecked in shaded goggles.  I didn't get the dog's name, or her name either, for that matter.  But I was able to eaves drop while she tried to bargain with some Mexican tourists over a taxi tour of Kona.

    After they left,  I knocked her up (that's Sherlock Holmes speak for engaged her in conversation.) Her tale: She no longer speaks Spanish very well, being permanently separated from an ex-husband from

Guanajuato a Noche.

 Guanajuato.  That central Mexican puebla has held an interest for me, as it is the home of several schools where gringos may attempt to improve their Spanglish.  The Guanajuatans would have you believe that it is quite picturesque...a delightful town in which to spend a month.  Our friend disagreed; Guanajuato is a small town in a valley in the desert.  Lacking sufficient Spanish, she was unable to sell her taxi tour.  I travel to Mexico with a modest amount of Spanish language skill.  Why was I surprised that people form Mexico would travel to Hawaii with a similarly limited handle on the Queen's English?  (We're talkin' Elizabeth here, not Liliokalani.)   Such hubris us Hawaiian Americans possess!  At least I was able to nab a picture of her pooch.  I suggest we call him Pepe. 

      Just so you know that Watson is a true naturalist, I'll tell you that the following day she and I went birding in the highlands, searching (yet again in vain) for the Red Cheeked Cordonbleu.  We have looked for this

Erckel's Francolin,  Pu'u Lani Equestrian Estates  SKG

lovely African finch on several occasions, never with success.  This day we drove into Pu'u Waawaa Ranch and the Pu'u Lani Equestrian Estates.    There, where the Paniolo hangs his lariat, Watson captured this striking image of Frankel's Erkelmann.  (My editor promised me a kiss if I could employ a really good Spoonerism in today's blog.)  

     All of this leads up to Friday and our swim on the Ironman side of the pier.  I had forgotten my camera, so naturally the water was quite clear.  As I had already donned my Deerstalker Cap and Meerschaum Pipe, we proceeded, halfway hoping that we didn't spot something reportable as photographic evidence (a clue, as it were) would be impossible. 

    On the way out we saw an octopus in the shallows.   He was brick red, of moderate size and dodged quickly under a coral, peeking out in response to the snorkeled doxology.  I saw not a single octopus from November to March.  I have now had seven sightings involving at least four individuals in about five weeks.  Go figure.

     Watson and I made it all the way out to the Canoe Club, hoping for a ray and then turned for home.   She swam wiki wiki back to the peer while I dawdled.  As I was swimming in, still outside the swim buoys, I saw something protruding from the soft sand about fifteen feet below.   I dove it once and found it to be the head of a fish protruding from the sand, gulping continuously.  I dove it twice more and came away with little additional information.  It was about an inch or two in diameter, had some mottled markings around the face and was....gulping.  Contiuously.

Freckled Snake Eel

      I could not imagine what this might be.   At home, I looked at gobies, dart fish and blennies, but none of them would serve.  I then looked at Conger Eels.  I had seen only a single individual, not a garden full, but I was doing my best to convince myself when, somehow, my eye lit on the Speckled Snake Eel.  Both Randall and Hoover noted that it spent its days with its head protruding from the sand.  But John Hoover, bless his fishy heart, had this addition:  their constant, almost frenzied gulping creates continual puffs of sand next to their gill openings. 

   The borrowed picture shown here is very much like what I saw.  If  I hadn't been paying close attention and the water had been less than very clear, we never would have noticed this interesting fish.

    Mystery solved, I leave you with a picture of the delightful Watson searching out the wary Frankelmann in the Kohala Highlands.  Spring in Hawaii is the season for birds, fish and flowers.  Enjoy.

jeff