Finally, after what seems like an eternity, I have a good fish story for you. But first I have to update you on Things in the frozen northland. Two nights ago we received a call from our friends John and Verna Slater who live, like lots of other people who (used to) come to Kona for the winter, on Vancouver Island. At some point or another they have appeared in the blog...John throwing Verna off the rocks into the fishpond at Kona Makai, Verna getting wrapped up on landing at Beach 69, etc. You may think that it sucks to be Verna, but that is far from the case.
At any rate, they called because, as far as I can tell, they thought if they talked to us for half an hour it would be almost like they were in Hawaii, maybe they would feel a bit warmer, possibly their Canadian white skin would turn a bit pink. The sad truth is, they are stuck in Canada much like we are stuck here. In our case, one would have to be crazy to face the rampant virus on the mainland if they didn't have to. In the case of the Canadians, they are convinced that if they leave, the province won't let them back in.
Many of us are waiting our turn for a vaccine. Hawaii isn't unique in having very little to spare and the likelihood that I'm going to get one in the arm anytime soon is poor. The Canadians have a peculiar twist on the scenario. It seems there was a national mandate that prisoners and First Nations (we call them Indians, feathers not spots) would get vaccinated first. In the case of both B.C. and Alberta, those groups were dutifully vaccinated, following which the cupboard was bare. The Slaters have an elderly friend who went to get a vaccine. When she got tho the front of the line the nice lady asked her if she was an Indian. Receiving a negative response she was told to beat it.
Unlike the U.S., Canada has no more vaccine on the horizon. the company that their government has been working with is producing a product with dismal efficacy.
Now that you are up to date on current events, we can get on with the fish story.
This morning I got dropped off at Kahalu'u and Sandra headed up to the KTA where she was bound to see more interesting fish in the deli than I would see in the bay. Soon I was sitting in the freezing water, putting on my fins. As I sat,I realized that I had forgotten the camera. Was this a harbinger of something special?
Moments later, I rounded the first corner, into the bay, where the water was marginally warmer. Immediately I happened upon a lady foundering on the rocks. I surfaced and asked if she was alright. She said her mask was fogged and she couldn't find the entrance. She didn't ask for any more help so I assured her she was almost there, a few yards and turn right.
I then enjoyed a brisk swim in the clear water, encountering nothing that would require the camera. After twenty minutes, I was on the mauka side of the bay in the rocks by the rescue shelter. Poking around I spied a Leaf Scorpionfish. He was propped between two rocks in such away that one had to be in just the right position to see him. Luckily there was a well positioned boulder sculpted with a hand hold.
If one were to ask what color he was, the quick answer would be black. In fact, this was an elegant fish. He was a dark gray on the flanks with ashy margins to his feathery dorsal fin.
Before leaving the fish, I took a careful look around, noting a stick wedged in the water, my distinctive hand hold, a distinctive rock and a certain palm. I was then able to swim away and return to find the fish for a second look.
It is well known that Leaf Scorpionfish will return to the same perch day after day (Krottje and Hill, 2017, unpublished data). With this in mind, tomorrow morning we are bundling Sandra up in her wet suit and heading back to "the spot" with the hopes of finding, and photographing, the Leaf. wish us luck.
jeff
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