Surf and Turf (Actually Asphalt)

   Two days ago, I was permitted a short swim at Kahalu'u.  The limiting factor was a big Scrabble tournament scheduled to kick off at 11 AM.  In my experience, mid-February through mid-March is the time

Squid!  Kahalu'u February 7, 2013

when one might find squid wandering near shore.  There are few things that I find more delightful than calamari on the hoof and the aforementioned (imagine using that word in a game of scrabble) time period had expired without a single teuthidian.  I figured that I could take a quick swim around the bay, bring closure to Squidwatch 2015, and still get Sandra to Alii Villas for Scrabble at 11.  

    As it turned out, on March 20th we were plagued with a super moon.  It has been pointed out to me that during the new and full moon, the sun and moon are lined up, producing increased gravitational pull and increased tidal exchange.  This phenomenon is known as syzygy.  (Can you imagine slipping that into a triple word score?  Woof!)  This can happen in two different configurations, with the sun and moon on the same side or on opposite sides

Syzygy !

 of the emerald orb that we call home.  In this case, the celestial bodies were on the same side resulting in a solar eclipse seen around the world in Germany.  Ausgezeichnet!

   A super moon, being closer to earth, results in more gravitational pull and a greater tide differential. These are called "spring tides" not because they occur in that season when a young man's fancy turns to the fairer sex, but because the tide seems to spring towards the increased gravitational pull.

     All this physics and astronomy was salient because the low tide that day was at 10:02 AM at minus .21 feet.  The water in the sand channel was only 4 inches deep and your hapless correspondent was forced to slither over the rocks into the shallow bay like some stranded lungfish from The Rite of Spring.  (I assume Stravinsky was referring to the season,not the tide. Silly fellow.)


   My quick spin through K Bay revealed not a single squid.  C'est domage.  As I approached the exit, I noted that I still had ten minutes to play with, time for another quick swim across the bay.  My quick swim

 came to an abrupt halt when I saw a Rockmover swimming with some determination while carrying in his mouth what looked like a small rock.  Something about this didn't seem quite right, so I swam up, took a swipe at the rockmover and he obligingly dropped his burden.  Which I promptly retrieved. 

    To my delight, I found that I was holding a small Lumpy Box Crab, Calappa gallus.  Seen from above, this neat little crab looks exactly like a small rock.  It is lumpy, mottled gray and bits of algae and other detritus attach to its carapace.  When you flip it over, you see the handsome pink legs tucked inside.

     I now had a chance to retrieve my camera and I took the picture you see here of the underside of my box crab.  Looking through the corrective lenses of my mask, I was not able to discern what is obvious from the photo; one leg shy of a majority had been removed by the rockmover. 

The Yellowtail Coris is a Voracious Killer!

     Accidenti!  How was my little friend going to conduct his business with just five legs?  Well, we never got the chance to  find out.  Every time I put him down in an attempt to get a picture of his carapace, the wrasses attacked, not just rockmovers, but saddle wrasse and yellowtailed coris.  I tried putting him under rocks and yet they winkled him out with their sharp beaks.  Three or four attempts was enough to convince me that there was no saving the little fellow.  Last seen, he was in the grip of a yellowtail coris, who swam off with his prize, presumably in search of some tartar sauce and some dry white wine.  I believe my brother would recommend a sauvignon blanc from Marlborough, New Zealand.  Tastes like cat pee, goes well with fish.  Go figure.

  On our drive back up the hill, Sandra explained that far from winning the scrabble tournament she had finished fourth (out of four).  She had, however, managed to frustrate her competitors using tactics that, one conversant with the pub arts, might call "dirty pool".  When a triple word score loomed, she would

Jackson's Chameleon Morte

 occupy the adjacent squares with trivial words like vex, stiff and shaft.  Surprisingly, her competitors have invited her back for a rematch.  Or perhaps its not such a surprise.  Somebody has to lose, right?

   Once we got back to Casa Ono, Sandra set about preparing for the evening feast.  I was dispatched to fix the mailbox, the latch for which had fallen off a few days earlier.  While completing my task, I took notice of a small dead animal out in the road.  Having reattached the latch with some chewing gum and a wire twist, I directed my attention to the decomposing critter in the road.  I expected to find a toad, as a few manage to get squashed every time it rains. A quick glance and I exclaimed, "Holy shit!"  loud enough that Sandra abandoned her culinary efforts and came out to see what was the matter. 

    What we had here, decomposing at my feet was a curly tailed, three horned Jackson's chameleon.  In his prime, which apparently ended within the the last day or so, he had been a proud, handsome, breeding

Jackson's Chameleon Greenwell's Coffee  Feb. 2014

male.  You might think that I would regard this as a tragedy of unspeakable dimensions.  After all, six or seven more feet and he would have been in my yard.  To understand my mixed emotions, you have to understand two things.

   First, I am not too good at finding Jackson's chameleons.  At the chameleon farm, otherwise known as Greenwell's Coffee, I have required the sharper eyes of the proprietors  every time..even knowing that a chameleon is in the tree, I have never spotted one on my own.  And I have never seen one in my yard, despite incontrovertible evidence that they are there.

   Next, you need to the know the rule relating to adding dead birds to your life list.  As long as the bird has not been moved from the spot of its demise, it can be counted.  Many years ago in the rainforest of eastern Australia, my friend Mike

VanRonzelen and I applied this rule to a road killed echidna.  We felt sorry for the little fellow, but we were very happy to add it to the list for the trip.  Albeit with an asterisk.  As relates to this current situation, ain't nobody gonna tell me that someone came along and moved that chameleon.  He is plastered permanently to the asphalt.  And is equally affixed to my mental lifelist.

    I am looking in my trees with more determination, while recognizing my frailty vis a vis spotting chameleons.  And Sandra is studying her scrabble dictionary, prepping for the rematch.   Meanwhile, back down in the shallows the sky remains the limit.  Keep your eyes and mind open...who knows what you will find!

jeff

Editors note:   You will never see the word "syzygy" played in scrabble as the manufacturer provides only two Ys.


Scrabble board courtesy of the Redoubtable SKG.

Its hard to Dance With Only Five Legs.