Manta Rays at Kawaihae

   This morning bright and early, Sandra and I loaded up the car and headed north to see our friends at Kawaihae.  It was another beautiful morning on the Big Island with a few fleecy clouds tickling the cinder cones on to of Kohala Mountain, and Maui standing forth boldly to the north.

   Hai was waiting for us as we arrived, slathering on sunscreen as he stood by his jeep.  He had hardly said hello before he was telling us that we shouldn't waste our time in the harbor, but that we should go down the steps into the ocean and look at the mantas.  While he was talking, a cooperative ray surfaced about fifteen yards off shore, the tips of its fins cutting through the water.  If you had a pronounced fear of sharks, you might have thought that tip of the manta wing was the tip of  Jaw's

Our friend Hai is the master of the Sea at Kawaihae

dorsal fin.

    Hai wasn't applying the sunscreen in anticipation of swimming with us.  Although he is a master of the lagoon, much like Tom Bombadil was master of the wild wood, he clearly delights in surfing, perhaps above anything else.  And the waves were really nice today; in addition to the manta ray fins we saw a few nice six foot faces on waves breaking less than a hundred yards off shore.

   Hai went on to tell us that when the surf was up it stirred up all the goodies in the shallows near the harbor.  Although this may not be plankton soup, the mantas seem to enjoy it.  He said that his record for a single day here at Kawaihae was to see 13 mantas.  Remember, this is the reincarnation of Tom Bombadil talking.; us mere hobbits should not aspire to such inflated numbers.

   At about this time, our dear friends Peter and Marla drove up.  Marla plied us with a big bag of fruit and we took another look at the ocean where, sure enough another manta cruised by, this time 20 yards south of the steps.

   Sandra and I went to the back of the Honda to put on our suits, expecting our friends to do the same.  As I was putting on my water hat I saw Peter and Marla standing beneath a tree.  I walked

Sandra prepares to plunge into the soup

over and Peter said, soto voce, "We're talking to our real estate agent."

    For those of you who don't recall this piece of our on going soap opera, our friends are flirting with the idea of moving back to California.  This was an agent in San Luis Obispo and it looked like the flirtation was turning into heavy petting.  Would the real estate agent get to (shudder) third base?

   Well, Sandra and I left our good friends standing in the pretty little park under the shade of a koolibah tree and headed for the sea.  Sandra had not been down the steps before and allowed that they were sufficiently painful on her delicate tootsies that they might constitute a sufficient excuse for flipper walking.  I had been down those steps before and was both not surprised and in total agreement about the potential advantage of flipper walking.   The surfers don't seem to mind, even though they are carrying their boards.  Obviously, the surfers are made of sterner stuff.

   Out in the water, we were immediately impressed by the lack of visibility.  It was low tide and in much of the area where we searched for mantas the water was only five feet deep.  Where a coral still grew, it could be less.  Snorkeling involved looking down into the soup, occasionally seeing a coral or a four spot butterfly fish.  This was no way to look for mantas.

Unfiltered photo of my manta taken at bout four feet distance.

    It took only a few minutes for us to realize that we needed to keep our goggled heads out of the water and look for a manta shadow or the tips of their wings on the surface.  Considering that we had seen them so easily from shore there was now a dearth of manta ray activity.  We swam back and forth for about fifteen minutes, mostly treading water, without seeing anything.  At this point Peter and Marla appeared on the shore showing no signs of coming on the manta a hunt.  After a couple of minutes, Peter plunged in off the ladder and swam out to us.  He wasn't there to look for devil rays, only to tell us that compared to buying a house this activity was thin soup, indeed.  They were heading back to Kapa'au to consider their real estate adventure.

    Sandra was getting discouraged.  It had been over twenty minutes and we hadn't seen a single wing tip.  Luckily things improved.  We started seeing mantas, both wing tips and large black torsos right at the surface.  Unfortunately, the visibility was so poor that even those these animals might be as

My manta. The best I can do to filter out the cloudy water.

close as ten or twelve feet, we could not see them under water.  In only a few minutes, Sandra got lucky and a manta passed right in front of her.  At three feet she was able to get a good look at its face as it swam by.

     She was satisfied and getting tired and so she went in.  I stayed out longer, attempting to approach the rays that swam nearby.  Eventually I got lucky, too.  A manta swam towards me.  I got my head in the water and was face to face with the manta. This guy had a wingspan of about eight feet, so it was big, but not huge.  By the time I got the camera ready he had swum away.  Lucky enough, he circled back and although he didn't  come face to face, I was able to get this picture at a distance of about four feet.  This may be one of the worst manta ray pictures you will ever see, but it clearly shows how cloudy the water was.

   Getting out was a bit of a challenge; at low tide the bottom step was eight inches above the surface.  Luckily I was boosted up by the incoming waves.  I did a foot over foot flipper walk to the top of the stairs and I was rewarded with a whale breeching about two hundred yard off shore.  The surfers, who were about a hundred yards out, must have had a wonderful look.

   Once up the stairs, we were appraised of a new issue.  The seaside shower, which I have previously trumpeted, was not working.  A big storm hit Kawaihae a couple weeks ago damaging the wharf.  The paper said it will cost eight million dollars to repair.  We assume that the shower is victim to the same damage and hope that it gets fixed soon.  In the meantime, we will start to bring a jug of wash water.

  One might wonder, as my son did, about the wisdom of swimming in such cloudy water.  Anyone concerned with shark attacks knows that this is one of the big risk factors.  All I can say is that there are lots of surfers swimming out through the same water.  As we prepared to leave a car full of older girls were unloading big pink inner tubes for the purpose of floating around on the cloudy water.  So I suppose at some level, all these knowledgeable locals speak for a general safety.

    At the least, Sandra and I survived unscathed.  And we both got our manta!

jeff

For those who don't know what a manta ray looks like, here is an image from the internet that approximates what I would have seen if the water had been clear.

A Manta Ray in clear water.  Not my picture.

  

A Report from Q...Walking Fins at Kahalu'u

      It hadn't rained for almost two days and another monster swell was on the way.  With all this in mind, I talked Sandra into taking me down to Kahalu'u for a quick swim while she went to the nearby KTA store for an onion.  Onions in Hawaii fall into that strange food group of the unexpectedly precious, along with milk and bread among the culinary necessities.  Sandra dropped me off at K Bay and proceeded in her quest for frankincense and myrrh. And an onion.

The Bluespine Unicornfish was once common at Kahalu'u.  January 2020

    It was a gorgeous day and I was soon in the cold, clear water.  Yes, Virginia, it is winter now and the water temperature has dropped into the mid 70s.  This year I have added a neoprene vest to my winter outfit.  It was surprisingly inexpensive, about the same cost as 20 onions up at the KTA.  Along with the rubber weight belt, which restricts flow as I ply my way through the chilly waters, it does a surprisingly good job of keeping me from freezing.  Incidentally, the weight belt also cost about the same as 20 onions.

    It was a very low tide and I had to crawl out through the entry, dodging a few legs of those who chose to trod upon the submerged lava in contrast to my salamander style of locomotion.   Once free and clear, I encountered a few fish, including a pair of blue spine unicornfish.  This fish isn't rare, yet, but it is far less common than in previous years.

The Abbreviated Cone, a Hawaiian endemic.  Kahalu'u January 2020

   I see Easter looming on the ecumenical calendar, and as I swam away from the bluespine unicorns,
I started thinking about the Easter Chorus.  This is actually the elegant coris; the male of the species  bears a lovey aqua cross on his forehead, hence his Christian moniker.  Like the bluespine unicorn, this fish is now encountered infrequently at K Bay;  it was routine only a few years ago.  With any luck, on Easter Sunday Jesus will smile down up
on us and a handsome male elegant coris will swim out from his watery sepulcher, radiant in his glory.  I'm afraid that this is what is known as faith-based snorkeling.

    Pickings were thin as I made my circle around the bay.   Out near Surfer's Rock I spotted this yellowish cone hiding in a coral depression next to a rock boring sea urchin.  Careful of urchin spines, I ferreted him out and posed him in plain sight for a photo.  To the best of my diagnostic ability, this is an abbreviated cone.  John Hoover tells us that it is Hawaii's only endemic cone.  Note the coronated shoulder, as opposed to a round shoulder that is found on many cone shells.  The common Imperial cone also has a coronated shoulder, but it is much larger.  The fine spotted bands are seen nicely in this specimen.  I think this was my first

A Super-male Yellowtail Coris,  Kahalu'u January 2020

abbreviated cone.

    Making our way over to the Rescue Shelter, I did not see any Christmas wrasse or Easter coris, but I did get this picture of a handsome super-male yellowtail coris.  He was a big guy, flipping stones around the way Paul Bunyan used to flip trees.  There were a few females around, presumably his harem.

   On the way in, I had a look at a couple blue stripe groupers, a bit unusual for K Bay, and a quick glimpse of a snowflake moray eel.  Having a little time left before my appointment with my beloved, I took a quick swim back across the bay towards the Menehune breakwater.  Just as I was getting ready to make my turn for home I saw a gorgeous Hawaiian hairy triton shell sitting in a coral depression next to (you guessed it) another rock boring urchin.  Those

A Hidden Hermit Crab in a Hawaiian Hairy Triton

little urchins are super common among the dying coral and they have sharp little spines.

    Like earlier, I carefully fingered the shell out of its crevice and put it on top of the coral.  As you can see, this was an especially beautiful specimen.  With the rich brown, black and white striping, he looks like he could be an ornament in an Renaissance chapel somewhere in Tuscany.  There are a couple tritons that we find at Kahalu'u and they are often home to a hermit crab.  I watched this shell for only a minute or so before it started to move.  I flipped it over and a hidden hermit crab, Calcinus latens, crawled out and flipped himself and his triton home back over.  A little patience and I got a few pictures of him crawling out and a nice one of him peering out from under the hairy triton shell, much as if he was wearing one of Queen Elizabeth's  hats.

   Sandra met me as I came ashore.  After bestowing a welcoming kiss on her intrepid snorkeler she told me that she had something she wanted me to see. Up in the shelter, sitting proudly on a nearby

From MI 6 to K Bay  The Walking Flipper

table, were two pairs of brand new fins.  These were not ordinary fins, however. As I examined them I could hear the voice of Q back at MI 6 headquarters:

    "Look here 007, we've put together these fantastic fins for your upcoming mission to the Sandwich Islands.  You'll be protecting Andrew and the Duchess who are renowned snorkelers and you will need to be prepared.  Those nylon uppers will be gentle on your ankles and that velcro strap will keep the fins  firmly in place.  But, James!  Just look at that hard plastic sole! You will be able to leap onto the beach and race across the lava without a hitch.  I dare say, that villainous Odd Job will be hopping from one foot to the other as the lava cuts up his tender feet in feeble pursuit"

   As I completed my reverie, who should appear but the owners of these space age fins,  straight

Kim shows off her state of the art snorkeling footwear.

from the British Secret Service.  It was Arny and Kim, not from Bloomsbury, but rather from Minnesota.  Kim allowed that they only go snorkeling once a year and these seemed like a good idea. 
Smooth talker that I am, I got her to model these new fangled flippers for the blog.

   So often, the things that happen back on the beach were as interesting as anything we saw in the bay. I did see a couple worthy invertebrates, we saw the new wave fins and we made some new friends here in the Sandwich Islands.

jeff

Her Brittanic Majesty shows off her new bonnet.  Take that, Megan!

   

   

Frogs, Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

I'm Cuckoo for Coqui-puffs.

    If there has been a brief hiatus in blogs, I'm blaming it on the weather.  Rain, rain and more rain.  One night on the news they showed a map that indicated that Kapa'au (where Peter and Marla live) received over 9 inches in a 24 hour period.  On that same day Hilo got 21 inches.  By God, that's a lot of precipitation.

   Climate change has spawned a change in our local fauna.  Specifically, we could change the name of our humble estate from Casa Ono to Coquiville.  The coqui frogs, native to Puerto Rico, have been making their noisy march down the newly lush slopes of Hualalai.  Four years ago, we pitied the people who lived 800 vertical feet above us in Holualoa.  Now we close our doors and windows as we head to bed, the better to shield our tympanic membranes from the chirps of the coqui frogs.  Last night, as we visited our snowbird friends down on the beach, Sandra heard coquis just across Alii Drive from our former home at Alii Villas.

    This would be bad enough, but there is no doubt that the coquis are more vociferous during, and slightly after, a rain shower.  It has rained six of the last seven nights and I feel like I'm ready to paraphrase that wacky bird that shilled a children's cereal,: "I'm cuckoo for Coqui-puffs!"

    It is only natural that the coquis are more amorous when its been raining; as they are amphibians they need to lay their eggs in a moist environment.  A fresh puddle is just what the doctor ordered.

   In addition to coquis, we have seen an increase in snails and slugs.  You north westerners are no stranger to those animals, but up in the PNW these lovable molluscs don't harbor rat lung disease.  This curious parasite, Angiostrongylus cantonensis, is a parasitic nematode that can cause, among other

Kareem?  Is that you?

terrifying pathology, brain abscesses.  Just in the last month, a lady ordered a sandwich at Island Naturals, our beloved health food store from which we buy bulk spices.   Half way through her nasch, she noticed a small slug on the lettuce in her sandwich.  The slug was retrieved and tested positive for RLD.  Holy Leaf Lettuce, Batman!

   This week, while gardening between rain showers, I discovered two of the largest land snails I have ever seen making the two headed mollusc.  They were fully extended from their massive shells.  The larger resembled a blackened Johnsonville brat. And I was reminded of a very old joke involving the sainted Lady Di and the Jeopardy-ready Kareem Abdul Jabbar.  I mean, this was one big, expletive deleted mollusc. 

    By virtue of Sandra's excellent research, we now know that these were specimens of the giant African land snail, Achatina fulica.  The omniscient net suggests that this introduced animal can grow up to a foot in length...a dimension of truly NBA proportion.

    If  all this isn't enough to put you off your feed, you must have an iron stomach.



   As this blog is putatively dedicated to fish identification, I took a swim today between rain showers, down at good old K Bay.   Suffice it to say I was hoping for an exciting sighting, the better to regale you with.  The shelter was hosting the monthly swim/snorkel for the handicapped,  Deep and Beyond.  Of all the things that inconvenience me in my monomaniacal mission to find fish, this has

to be the most worthy.  God bless 'em.

   The short report is that I didn't see anything blog worthy.  Since the last blog highlighted the keiki of the sailfin tang, I was lucky to nab a picture of the adult so you can see what that cute little yellow butterfly of a baby's father looks like.

    On that happy note, I will bid you good night.  ko KEE!

jeff

For comparison to the adult, another picture of the juvenile sailfin tang at Kawaihae.

  

At the Exhibit, Pulelehua. The Butterflies of the Big Island.

 

      "Pulelehua!"
      "Gesundheit!"

     In actuality, Pulelehua is not the noise made by a Samoan with hay fever, but rather the Hawaiian word for butterfly.  On New Year's Eve 2019 my butterfly exhibit opened at the Kailua Kona library to rave reviews.  Well, I planted the first of those reviews in the local paper, West Hawaii Today. 

They let anybody into the library!

Nevertheless, my fellow West Hawaii Islanders have been enjoying the exhibit. While the exhibit has absolutely nothing to do with fish identification, I thought that those of you who follow the blog would be interested to see what it looks like.

    Several people have remarked that initially they thought my paper mache models were actual mounted lepidopterans.  How gratifying.  With all due modesty, I think some of my models look better than actual butterflies. Perhaps if Pastor Brian puts in a word with the Creator, He will substitute one of our models for the current real thing.

    In my interview with the newspaper, I said that there would be 15 models.  When push came to shove, there were only 14, so on Sandra's advice I included an early attempt at a tiger swallowtail.  If you attend the exhibit, perhaps you can pick it out.  Hint: As I was just getting started I took the liberty of fusing the front and back wings, so that model has only two wings.

Swallowtails above, Monarch , Gulf Fritillary  and the Black Witch below

   In addition to butterflies, the exhibit includes one moth, the black witch, a very common insect in Kailua.  The black witch is so big that when seen in the evening it is sometimes confused with a small bat.   The black witch comes with a number of legends.  It is has been introduced from Central America, where the primitives believe that it is an evil spirit come to haunt them.  Not to be outdone in the superstition department, the Hawaiians believe that it is a deceased relative returning for a friendly visit.  The good news is that this relative never asks for money.

    A big part of the exhibit covers the monarch butterfly.  The monarch came to Hawaii after Captain Cook and the first batch of Yankee missionaries.  Once white folks built houses in Hawaii, they needed shrubs.  Hence the giant crown milkweed was introduced to grace the gardens of the new socioeconomic elite.  As you should know, plants of the milkweed family are the obligate host of all

A Monarch caterpillar goes chrysalis!  SKG 1/10/20

monarchs.  It could be that a pregnant monarch or two, or some eggs or caterpillars arrived with the GCMs, or perhaps once the shrub was established they flew in.  Regardless, by 1841 monarchs were found on the main islands and it is by far our most common butterfly.

    As I was preparing for the exhibit I had a meeting with Denise, our just a little dishy head librarian.  Denise took me out back behind the library and showed me the GCM that grows there.  We met Chris, the gardener and admired the monarchs flying through the leaves, whose leaves reach at least fifteen feet towards the heavens.  Praise the Lord.  Today, before the library opened, Sandra (who is more than just a little dishy) and I went out back.  Chris was there again.  My sharp eyed honey found two chrysalises and then Chris found a caterpillar that was in the process of going chrysalis.

    Butterflies only live three to four weeks.  During that time they have sex and undergo internal fertilization.  Interestingly, most, but not all, arthropods undergo internal fertilization and lay fertilized eggs.  That should give you something to think about the next time you are in the back room at the video rental parlor.   To say the least, the number of arthropod species, including crustaceans, insects, centipedes and arachnids is off the chart; there are nearly one million species of arthropods.  To use a polite phrase, that is a whole lot of "internally fertilizing" bugs.

   Anyway, butterflies and moths lay eggs on the leaves of the host plant, the only leaves their caterpillars are capable of eating.  Which upon hatching they proceed to do.  Voraciously.  After a week or so of eating a caterpillar cements its derriere to a branch (or some other handy solid structure) weaves a

Vanessa Butterflies, Painted Lady, Red Admiral and Kamehameha

cocoon, which in the case of butterflies is called a chrysalis.  I hope you appreciate this picture of the caterpillar doing its thing.  Chrysalis-wise.

    Moths form a cocoon woven from silk.  Hence the silkworm!

   The other emphasis of the exhibit is the Kamehameha butterfly and its relatives that have been introduced to Hawaii.  Its amazing to think that millions of years ago a genus Vanessa butterfly or two made it across the ocean and were the Adam and Eve of our only big beautiful butterfly.  You can refer to an earlier blog in which the Redoubtable SKG and I successfully sought this butterfly in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park.  The caterpillar of this butterfly only eats mamane, the Hawaiian nettle.  Luckily, mamane is cultivated for tea.  One has to contemplate the dilemma faced by a tea farmer  as he watches his crop falling prey to Kamehameha caterpillars.  This may be hypothetical or it may be an advertisement for Sevin.

The monarch butterfly says, "See you at the library!"

   The Red Admiral butterfly, Vanessa atalalnta, has been introduced to all the main islands and it also uses mamane as a host plant.  Suffice it to say, there is a cracker jack model of the red admiral in the display.  So if you are mamane farmer, or just want to look at some outstanding nature art,  get your akule down to the library.  If you are lucky, you can say hi to Denise.

jeff

    All the pictures in this blog were taken by the Redoubtable SKG.  The gorgeous banner was produced by our amazing library technician Lee, who like my sweetie wants less web presence, not more.  But if you go in the library and you see a sweet young thing at the desk with a sticker that says, "Hi! I'm Lee."  that's her.  And none of this would have been possible without the guidance of Dr. Daniel Rubinoff, UH Manoa and Dr Patrick Hart in Hilo.   Thanks to one and all.

     

A Great Day at Kawaihae or Come the Tormenta

   Yesterday I went snorkeling at the pier.  The weather was cloudy and the water was cold, cloudy and utterly devoid of interesting animals.  Today we convened at Kawaihae Harbor at 9:30 in the

Not a fancy yacht, this vessel looks ready to ply her trade around the world.

morning.  At that moment there were fleecy clouds, albeit lots of them, scudding across the sky, propelled by a strong wind blowing out of the south east.  The sun was shining on us and the wharf across the bay.  Way over at the north end of the wharf was a large, rusty two masted sailing vessel.  There was no way to know what that boat was about, but its aura of mild neglect it was picturesque in a working nautical sort of way.

   Back at the little park, Peter and Marla and Hai had joined Sandra and I.  Soon, each clad in his own variation of neoprene, we were on our way across the parking lot.  At this point only a modest

Porcupinefish, Kawaihae Harbor, January 2020

amount of sand was carried by the wind.  The tide was out, so I entered off the tiny sandy beach at the mauka edge of the landing ramp.   I placed my dark glasses and ball cap atop my sandals at the high edge of the platform; the tide wouldn't rise that high in the next hour.

   The water didn't seem as cold as it was at the pier the day before, and although it was full of plankton, it was less cloudy than when Sandra and I were at Kawaihae a week or so earlier (when we saw the citron butterflyfish).  On our way out to the first platform, with the group still close together, we all got a good look at a large porcupine fish.  Porcupinefish are basically nocturnal, hence the huge eyes.  Thia also explains why, when you see one during the day, it is hiding deep under a ledge.  Here at Kawaihae, there is often one taking refuge under the first platform.  Ordinarily, when you find one out in the open, thy are quite skittish.  This fellow let me close to within six feet which explains this remarkably clear picture .  Don't you just love those spines?

    Before we started out, Peter had allowed that he had not seen a citron butterflyfish in Hawaii.  Hoping to find the fish that Sandra and I saw a week before, I made my way along the rip rap well

Painted nudibranch, first platform. taken with close up flash.

past the platform.  I did not find the Citron, and by the time I made it back to the platform Hai had already spotted a painted nudibranch.  This tiny creature was foraging among some algae growing among the branches of a cauliflower coral.

   Sandra and I have found our own nudibranchs on these platforms, but I always wonder, how many we have we missed.  This small nudi was about 2 cm long and 3 cm wide,  roughly the size of a third of a reefer...maybe not that big.  As I started my swim, I took a minute to readjust the camera to focus on what was in the middle of the field.  My Olympus T 5 seems determined to revert to the mode where it searches for the face in the picture.  If one wants to take quick, reliable pictures of tiny animals, it is imperative that you get the camera to focus on your object every time.  This picture, taken with the close up flash mode, would probably not have happened in the default setting (with which the camera seems to be in love.)  The second picture is taken without the flash.  Isn't it interesting how different the colors are captured by the camera?

    Our beginning experience with nudibranchs on these pillars favored the yellow and white

Painted nudibranch taken without flash.  January 2020.  Kawaihae Harbor.

trembling and the larger blue gloomy.  Now it seems that the painted is the most common.  I wonder if the fauna has changed or if we just weren't seeing the more cryptically colored painted nudibranch.

   You may recall that as we started our adventure, the skies were clear and the wind was brisk but steady from the south east.  In the short interval, the skies had darkened and the wind was picking up.  From the corner of the harbor, the southeast wind had a pretty good fetch to the mooring platforms with a resulting four inch chop, some bounce and a bit of surface current.  Perhaps as a consequence, in the process of getting those nudi pictures, I grazed my left knee on the pillar.  Ouch!

    We swam out to the second pillar where Marla had seen another painted nudibranch, but it was long gone.  From there on out, all we saw was a variety of sessile fouling organisms like sponges and hydras.  The good news was that, contrary to our most recent experience, there was a nicer variety of

Pink sponge under the second platform. Kawaihae, January 2020

sponges, both pastel and blue and pink, in addition to a couple types of orange.  You may notice, that on the admonishment of my invertebrate zoology gurus, I am no longer attempting to name the species based on color.  Which is not to say that they are not both interesting and beautiful.  In several spots the weed that coats the pillars was home to colonies of small white hydras.  They gave the initial impression that the pillar was coated with a fine bluish lint.

    We worked these two pillars for about twenty minutes.  Towards the end of this period, the sky darkened, the wind picked up and it started to rain.  If you are already swimming, rain is not that big a deal.  But then the wind picked up further, the size of the wavelets increase to about six inches and the tops of those wavelets were blown into our faces.  It was as if someone was shooting you in the face with a garden hose.   Sandra and I were blown up against the rip rap that backs the platforms, but it was no problem to fend off with our flipper covered feet.  This might sound fairly unpleasant.  In fact, this combination was unique in my experience and since we were in a safe spot, shielded with neoprene and face masks, it was sort of fun...in a strange sort of way.

Puffed up spotted toby and cleaner wrasse, Kawaihae January 2020

   After the squall passed, Sandra allowed that she was only a little cold, but as she wasn't seeing
anything new, perhaps she would be happier ashore.  I swam with her over to the ramp and watched her get out.  As I had a a bit left in the tank, I swam over to the coral about thirty yards east of the ramp.

   Right along the shore, the effect of the wind was mollified and the surface water was flat.  At first, I saw a few usual suspects, including a nice interaction between a cleaner wrasse and the Hawaiian spotted toby, canthigaster jacator.  I can't say why, but at Kawaihae it is usual to see this cute little fish all puffed up.  If you look carefully, you will notice that in this picture.

    A bit further along I saw a large red cushion starfish.  I have been told that a tiny octopus sometimes live on the ventral side of this strange starfish, which may be the most common starfish

Juvenile Sailfin Tang.  Kawaihae Harbor  January 2020.

found on the Big Island (its only competition for this title is the crown of thorns).  There was no octopus underneath, but a brittle worm scuttled away from the scene of the crime.

    After harassing the cushion star, it was time for me, too, to head for the beach.  As I passed over a finger coral, I saw below me a juvenile yellow tang, its fins in the locked up position.  Immediately, I saw it was accompanied by a darker fish of about the same small size with vertical stripes.  Was this a Klein's butterflyfish?  No.  It was a small juvenile sailfin tang.  I grabbed a couple quick pictures and managed to chase it into the coral.  Bummer.  I waited patiently for a couple minutes and the baby reemerged.  Now I was more cautious and I was able to close  within ten feet, getting these shots you see here.

    As I was taking pictures of the sailfin tang, I spied a small teardrop butterfly swimming over the top of the coral patch.  I turned and was able to get four quick shots before he swam away.  This fish wasn't tiny, perhaps half the size of an adult, but his coloration was clearly different.  Look how broad the black strip is at the back of the fins, just before the tail.  Also note how the tear drop is

Juvenile Teardrop Butterflyfish.  Note the broad black stripe. 

more rectangular and how the drip line is so dark and extends all the way ventral.  I had never seen one of these before and (I guess Peter is right, I am a fish geek) I found this little guy to be pretty exciting.

    The sailfin tang was still hanging around.  Perhaps she had become used to me, but I was able to get the best pictures of this encounter.  The little yellow tang was there as well.  Those two are the only members of the genus zebrasoma in Hawaii and perhaps they were reveling in their kinship.  Additionally, one might note that like the yellow tang, the juvenile of the sailfin tang seems to spend most of its time with those large fins erect, unlike the adult who rarely flashes that full fin profile.

    We reconvened ashore, showered and changed.  At the moment it wasn't raining, but the wind was blowing hard and we wondered it our planned picnic was a bust.  Luckily, Hai, who is virtually a resident at Kawaihae, knew of a secret hide away, where we able to dust off some sandy chairs, spread out a grass mat in lieu of a table cloth and enjoy a delightful New Years meal together.  Sandra supplied a loaf of home made bread, with butter and

As the storm rages outside, a New Year's picnic under cover.

mustard, and Peter contributed a stick of liverwurst he had brought back from the mainland.  Lottie was there in spirit, but she didn't get any liverwurst.

   Hai regaled us with a story of creating small wooden floats, surrounding candles with paper shields and setting them afloat to greet the new year.  This wouldn't do on this windy day, but as the storm raged outside, we committed to come together on a more clement evening, perhaps over by the canoe club on the north side of the harbor and set some candles afloat together.

 Hau'oli makahiki hou,
jeff

Happy New Year from Kawaihae !

We learned the word Tormenta in Buenas Aires when a particularly violent storm tried to rip the awning off our rented apartment.

Starting 2020 Off With a Pair of Eels

    High surf kept me out of the water for a couple days.  Yesterday I decided to go for it down at the pier, which is sometimes resistant to the water churning effects of high surf.  To avoid parking problems,  Sandra kindly dropped me off.  The weather was beautiful with fleecy clouds and a light breeze.  As I entered the water on the Ironman side of the pier, I was astonished to find that it was

The Kona Inn under a sunny winter sky.

virtually crystal clear.  Water like that is just begging for photography and I hoped that I would find something worthy of these outstanding conditions.

    On the way out, the number and variety of fish was sorta pathetic.  I made it out to the patch in front of the palace and took a panoramic shot of the Kona Inn replete with the aforementioned fleecy clouds.  Up to that point, this was the most interesting picture I had taken.  As I made my turn,  I headed for the third swim buoy. There I encountered this sweet medium sized surgeon, probably a teenage yellowfin.  If that is correct, this little fellow will grow up to be among the biggest of surgeonfishes.

Juvenile Yellowfin Surgeonfish, Kailua Bay january 2020

Just a few strokes from the buoy I hit pay dirt.

    When one is swimming over the sand, he has to remain alert. The sandy bottom is perforated with vents where fresh water from the mountain percolate into the bay. In addition,  interesting crabs, irregularly shaped urchins and flying gurnards call the sand home. Perhaps the most bizarre creature one finds in the sand is the freckled snake eel.  This odd fellow pokes his head up out of the sand and shoots water through his gills with a continuous gulping motion.  In doing so, he creates a little saucer shaped depression in the sand and if one looks carefully there is a bit of a sandstorm right around his head.  I had only seen a freckled snake eel once before, years ago.  Some people talk as if this an everyday occurrence for them...I have not been so lucky.

    As you may have guessed, quite near the third swim buoy in a mere ten feet of Kona Crystal was one of these puffing eels.  It was a good day for my fickle sinuses and I was able to dive to the bottom, hold on to rock and take a picture from about a foot away.  With all due modesty, this is a pretty good shot of a rare sea creature.  Note particularly his unusual eye.  It's possible that this is an adaptation for living a life primarily buried in the sand.

The Freckled Snake Eel. Kailua Bay January 2020

       A few dives down to the bottom and I was heading slowly back towards the beach.  Around the second swim buoy I encountered an undulating moray eel hunting through the coral.  This reddish eel is seen infrequently.  More important to the photographer, it is implicated in biting the unwary diver who puts his hand in the wrong spot.  Although I was happy to hang onto a rock near the snake eel, I

Undulated Moray Eel, kailua Bay January 2020.

was careful not to get too close to this beauty.  he was quite active and I watched him writhe around the corals for about five minutes.  When you look at this picture, you might take a careful look at the mouthful of sharp teeth.











    this week's advice: keep your fingers out of the eels mouth and have a happy 2020.

jeff