A Nice Little Stout...Not a Guiness

       Yesterday I took the act back to Kahalu'u.  I had been tantalized by Kathleen Clark who forwarded the photo that you see here of a juvenile Shortnose Wrasse.  That beauty had been seen and photographed by Paul Herring earlier this week.  KC dubbed "Paul Photog Extraordinaire" and I believe

Shortnose Wrasse, Kahalu'u, 3/21 © Paul Herring

 that she is on to something.  The Reef Teachers keep a photo album of glossies taken by Paul at their K Bay Learning Station.  Not only has he found the shortnose, but a month or so ago he found and photographed a Blackstripe Coris in the bay, a species that I have not seen there in all these years.  Perhaps if I am lucky someday I will meet Paul, shake his hand and ogle his camera.  Or if I'm really lucky I will see a Blackstripe Coris!

    As I changed,  I was getting pumped up for the shortnose, but also for a cleaner wrasse.  Kathleen said they were out there and I was determined to find one.  On the way to the water I passed the ultra petite Yasuko who was placing the signs encouraging good snorkeling behavior.  I threw my Japanese friend a, "Genki desu ka"  and she replied "Genki desu."  If you are not familiar with the land of the Rising Sun you may not realize that, unlike almost anywhere in the Western World, the Japanese don't ask just anybody how they are doing...you have to be a friend to be so familiar.  At least that is what it says on Mango Languages.  So I guess its official...I have a Japanese friend!  Hai!

The Trumpetfish could not find Shorty.

     The entry was shallow and cold and there was a large lady right in the middle, wobbling on knees that had seen a better day.  I gave her a tip about swimming out, assuring her that she would float through the narrow, shallow channel, even though I wasn't entirely sure that she would make it.  She plopped down on a moss covered rock to prepare for her dash while I put on my fins and floated past her.

    Out in the bay it was usual suspects as I patrolled the coral areas portrayed in Paul's photograph.  I was doing my best, but what I came up with was a large, yellow Trumpetfish.  I followed him for a bit, hoping that he might know where the shortnose wrasse was hiding.  Sadly he did not, but he did provide us with this fine photo. To be fair, in these days when species are dropping off the list left and right, we need to appreciate the handsome fish that remain.

An Ornate butterfly stands on her tail awaiting her cleaner.

   Eventually my patrol headed a little further out into the heads of remaining Evermann's Coral.  In one I saw three Ornate Butterflyfish adopting strange positions in the center of the coral.  It certainly looked
like they were being cleaned.  As you will recall, our secondary mission was to locate a Hawaiian Cleaner Wrasse.  This certainly looked like the spot.  Close observation, however, revealed that these fish were being cleaned by small juvenile Bird Wrasses.  Small and juvenile may seem redundant, but if you have been following the blog for all these many years you will know that  these juvenile bird wrasses are very common at Kahalu'u and they achieve a length of about two and a half inches before adopting the female color pattern.  These guys were so small, under an inch in length, that I had to look carefully to see them cleaning the butterflies.  

     Two months ago we saw a juvenile Blue-eye Damsel cleaning manini in a coral closer to the entry.  I may have to start making a list of the juvenile fish I see engaging in cleaning behavior. 

The cleaner wrasse pursues a saddle back wrasse.

   It appeared that we were finally on a roll.  The next coral head yielded  a single adult cleaner wrasse doing a job on a variety of fish.  Usually cleaner wrasse are found in mated pairs.  I watched for a while and observed only a single fish diligently cleaning the customers.  Makes you wonder what happened to her mate.

     Cleaning is a love/hate relationship. When the process starts the fish are euphoric, adopting a peculiar position in the water and holding very still.  As the cleaning progresses, it is inevitable that the cleaner wrasse makes a mistake, taking a scale instead of a tiny parasite.  Suddenly the fish being cleaned is wide awake.  Its as if you are sitting in your living room peacefully enjoying a bottle of wine when your reverie is broken by the police knocking on your door.  Bang, bang bang! Whoa!  I'm awake!

    Having received the wake up call, the customer fish dashes away. Sometimes he is pursued by the cleaner wrasse who is apparently hoping for one more nip.  One for the road, as it were. 

Stout Moray Eel  Kahalu'u March 2021

   Here you see just such a scene with the cleaner wrasse chasing a saddle wrasse who is finished with the cleaning process, thank you very much.

    Moving along, I was soon attracted to a small eel hiding quietly at the base of some coral.  This was
a sweet baby, hiding shyly, hoping that I would go away.  The water was clear and I was able to nab two reasonable pictures.  

    This is a Stout Moray.  Stouts come in a variety of color patterns, one of which looks very much like a Whitemouth moray, another common species seen during the day in our quiet bays.  Obviously, this pale eel would never be mistaken for a whitemouth.  

   Finally I ended up over by the Rescue Shelter.  Here at the foot of the bay the waves beat against the rocks and the water is usually full of suspended debris.  There is some pahoehoe lava and a number of moderately sized boulders.  It was between these small boulders that a month ago I saw the Leaf Scorpionfish.  As a result of that sighting, a rare instance when I didn't have the camera, I have been returning and

A second look at the light colored Stout Moray.

scouring this wave swept area each time I come to Kahalu'u., hoping for a second chance at the scorpionfish.  I didn't realize how much I had been dwelling on this spot until  this last week, when I had a most singular dream.

    In the dream I am snorkeling in this spot.  I'm enjoying myself and I drift off into a daydream. This goes on for a bit and then Sandra, who is snorkeling by my side, shakes me and I return to the present, albeit still in the dream.  Sandra asks if I am all right and I look up and see my Reef Teacher friends leaning over the railing, which is now fifty yards closer to this spot than is actually the case.  Vincenzo says, "We were worried about you."  I tell him that I am fine, but at the same time it occurs to me that daydreaming while you are snorkeling  isn't the smartest thing one might do.  

    At this point I actually woke up and for a minute or two reflected on the dream.  The reality is that when one is swimming in the ocean he is constantly interacting with the water.  This might be compared to driving a car, but who among us has not been motoring down the freeway, had a brief

Snakehead Cowry at the bottom of rocky depression.

daydream and returned to reality,  aware that he is not entirely sure what happened in the last thirty seconds?  I don't think this happens when I am swimming.  But what if it did?

  On this day I looked diligently among the boulders, but did not find the scorpionfish.  I did find a nice little Snakehead Cowry in a deep depression.  This may not be a Leaf Scorpionfish, but it is certainly a nice reward for remaing alert.

jeff

   

The Castor Bean Tree and other Hoticultural Delights

      This has been a busy week up in Holualoa Estates, which is the fancy-schmancy name the county of Hawaii has applied to my subdivision.  At the start of the week I squeezed in a swim at Kahalu'u.  I came away with a video of the White Mouith Moray, which towards the end of the brief clip gives you a good look at the buccal mucosa that gives this diurnal hunter his nom de guerre.  The white mouth is probably our most commonly seen eel.  This should provide a clue as to the marginality of the fish watching on that day.

   The highlight of that excursion was on shore, where I had the opportunity to practice my fledgling Japanese with Yasuko, and Sandra and I enjoyed a pleasant conversation with Kathleen Clark, who assured us that although we are not seeing any, there are several cleaning stations, with pairs of cleaner wrasse, in the bay.       

Castor Beans: They won't necessarily kill you!

    Following that we spent a day or two preparing to have five trees removed and then hung out while this adventure in forestry took place.  These trees had started as what I deemed attractive weeds.  Ever since he poisoned our monstera, I have been looking for ways to torment my evil neighbor.  Growing large weeds just across the property line seemed like a clever ploy.  Over time, what seemed like attractive weeds, became trees forty feet tall, that hung over our roof,  dropping copious leaves and the occasional branch on our walkways and the roof itself.  Most worrisome, the trees threatened our electrical lines.  

    It wasn't until Peter and Marla came over for their Aloha Lunch that we got an expert opinion on just
what those trees were: Castor Bean Tree, Ricinus communis.  In addition to leaves and branches, the trees also dropped innumerable seeds that indeed look like small beans.  Marla, being the friendly little scientist that she is, was quick to point out that these "castor beans" contain ricin.  If that name rings a far off bell, it may be that you recall that Walter White formulated ricin in hopes of poisoning Gus Fring. Wasn't Breaking Bad the best? 

Roadside Flowers in Holualoa

     Immediately I began formulating a plan to  put the poisonous beans to use.  Could I disguise them in a mac nut chocolate bar?  Wikipedia tells us that if you chew the beans, they will indeed release ricin, but no matter how many you chew, they won't necessarily kill you.  Fiddlesticks!

    At any rate, the trees are now gone, the roof is clean and we have almost all the poisonous seeds cleaned up.  But there were a plethora of seeds and I doubt we will get all of them.  There is a strong possibility that a child or two may be visiting in the next few months.  He or she will have to be admonished not to eat the seeds.  But this place, being the garden of Eden that it is, has plenty of other things that children should not put in their mouths.  For example,  our various snails and slugs are a vector for rat lung disease.  The parasite that causes RLD forms brain abscesses and really will kill you.  Best send the children out to play wearing mittens.

A Golden Tree on a stormy day.  Holualoa, Hi.

    Luckily, the tree guys came on a day when it wasn't raining.  It has continued to rain heavily almost every day.  On one of those rainy days, as we were driving home from the KTA, I noticed that our hillside was alive with Golden Trees.   These beautiful trees retain their blossoms for only a couple weeks. After dropping off our groceries we decided to hunt down one of these gorgeous trees.  

   The Golden Tree, Tabebuia donnell-smithii, is native to Mexico and Central America.  It is apparently common on the UH Manoa campus and we are lucky enough to have a few on our island.  Perhaps with all the rain, these trees are doing especially well this year.  

    Sandra and I found one that was growing down the street in a back yard.  It wasn't a very good look, so, it being a lazy rainy day, we decided to head up slope to the village of Holualoa, at least a thousand feet higher in elevation.  On the way into the village we found a couple Golden Trees in full bloom right beside the road. We stopped and took a few pictures.  I also nabbed a photo of the handsome flowers adjacent to our parking spot.  If anyone knows what it is I would be delighted with an identification.)  Sandra found a flower cluster from the golden tree which we took home for a better look.    

    Finally yesterday arrived, all our home improvement projects were under control and the sun was out.  From our lanai we could detect a bit of surf, so a swim at the pier seemed in order.  When we got down to Alii Drive, we saw that what was actually only a moderate swell was coming in from the

A flower cluster from the Golden Tree.

south.  Thus Kailua Bay wasn't protected and the waves were splashing over the sea wall on to the malecon.   

     As God had given me this day to go snorkeling, I wandered over tho the beach in front of the Marriott, plunged into the freezing water and headed out to Paul Allen's Reef.  The tide was low and waves were breaking right into the opening past the small jetty that protects Kamehameha's heiau.    For an instant I enjoyed a plump Christmas Wrasse as it swam by, but mostly I dealt with the rocks and waves as I made my way out into the bay. 

    Not surprisingly, there were only the expected fish, but the water wasn't especially clear and swimming through the waves provided plenty to keep me occupied.   At one point I wondered,"What the heck is a 70 year old moron doing way out here all by himself?"  and the phrase "identification is being withheld pending notification of his relatives" flitted through my mind. I did see a couple fine examples of purple meandrina cauliflower coral.  On close examination I could find nothing better in these corals than a couple Arc Eye Hawkfish. But if cauliflower corals are coming back, I'll be satisfied with the hawkfish.

A healthy cauliflower coral on the PAR

    Back on the beach I had the pleasure of the homeless men and women that have become a fixture at the base of the pier.  Others have had difficulty with this particular group of homeless people.  In a recent article in West Hawaii Today it was reported that when the Kai Opu'a canoe club resumed activities last week, they were confronted by mountains of garbage surrounding their canoes.  As if that weren't bad enough, the paddlers were harassed by a mob of the homeless demanding money and cigarettes in return for granting access to the canoes and the beach.  

   I suppose  we should feel fortunate that the homeless don't seem to have much interest in snorkeling.  As of now, we have the water all to ourselves!

jeff

The Inca Tern

     I realize that there has not been a blog in a while. In fact, some of you guys are in full clamor.  The bitter truth is, its hard to write a blog about nature experiences when you haven't seen something a little special.  We have continued to snorkel at Kahalu'u and the pier with results so mundane that the camera

The Io keeps an eye on Ono Road.

hardly makes it out of my pocket.  And we took a snorkeling trip to Ho'okena where the most surprising thing we encountered was the mob at the Coffee Shack, where we made a quick stop for a takeout cinnamon roll.  Yes, the Snowbirds (or as my beloved is want to call them, the Snowboarders) are back.  But they are not real birds, so they don't count.  

    The closest thing we had come to recently in the way of an interesting nature encounter was an Io that we spotted in a tree on a morning walk about a week ago.  We see a Hawaiian Hawk in our neighborhood occasionally, but this was an especially good look as he was perched about thirty feet up in a jacaranda tree right beside the road.  The Io is interesting because it is probably the only native Hawaiian land bird that occurs in our neighborhood. We have turkeys, francolins, pheasants and parrots. And cattle egrets and barn owls.  Not to mention and all manner of introduced songbirds.  But as far as I know, the hawk is the only native.

   Suddenly this morning our luck changed.  As I was going through my emails, I spotted something from the Hawaii Birding Facebook page.  In the wake of a fierce winter storm, an Inca Tern had appeared at South Point.  The bird was first noted two days ago and the post was from Lance Tanino, the moderator of the page and, I assume, a crack birdwatcher.  Lance noted that the tern was being fed by local fishermen.  He admonished us, should we go to look at the tern, to be careful around the cliffs and to be respectful of the bird, i.e. keep your distance.  He included several magnificent pictures and noted that this was

Cows and Windmills on the way to South Point.

almost certainly the first time this bird had been seen in Hawaii.

   In fact, a little net surfing revealed that this is a fairly rare bird in any event.  It is found on the coast of Peru and Northern Chile and in the Galapagos Islands.  Throughout its range it is pending on being listed as threatened.

    This enticing tidbit got schmoopie out of bed.  Soon sandwiches were made, binoculars and spotting scope packed and we were on our way south. We made the turn onto South Point road an hour later, at about a quarter to nine.  I had hoped that we would see birdwatchers on arrival, pointing the way, but as I noted to Sandra, it was pretty early in the morning.  Would any birdwatchers have left Kailua or Hilo before 7:30?  

    Before we made it all the way down the narrow road to South Point, we had to stop just over a rise for Sandra to take a picture of cows grazing in the field with electricity generating windmills behind them.  Not only was this an opportunity to capture an interesting visual , the antiquity of grazing cows juxtaposed with modern technology, but it afforded us the chance to get creamed by another automobile as it crested the hill at fifty miles an hour only to find us stopped in the middle of the road.  Fortunately that cataclysm did not occur.

The Inca Tern, South Point, Hi.  March 2021  photo SKG

   Before we made our way down to South Point we detoured inadvertently to the parking lot for the Green Sand Beach.  There a young couple were gearing up for the hike with the most up to date sun repellent gear.  They didn't know anything about rare birds, but the gentleman in the pickup, waiting to taxi tourists to the GSB, directed us back to the turn to the point.

    Soon we were parked at the end of the road, next to a family that was clearly not involved in bird watching.  We slapped on some sunscreen and made our way down to the precipice where several young men were fishing.  Hoping that these might be the tern keepers noted on Facebook I asked if they knew where the rare bird was.  One gentleman told us that he was not present at the moment, but if we waited half an hour, he was sure to fly in.  In the absence of a group of bird watchers ogling our object of desire, this was about the best we could have hoped for.  

    As we walked away, one said to his fellows, "He's a little late for breakfast."  A moment later, a large Polynesian fellow caught up with us and said,"Here, I'll show you where he is."   Our new friend walked a mere twenty feet to the edge of the cliff and beckoned me to come stand beside him for a look at the bird.  

Helpful Fishermen on the Verge of Celebrity

    Now, for those of you who know me, you have already anticipated my dilemma.  Mongo is no lover of heights. At times, this neurosis can be turned to an advantage, but in this instance, having driven to hell and gone with a life bird at stake, it was time to swallow the bitter pill and step up to the edge.

    From about a foot or so back from the precipice I leaned forward and asked if the bird was down by the large blue fishing float, fifty feet below.  "No, step closer and look down."

     I did as I was told and at that moment I released a spontaneous F Bomb. I was looking at the Inca turn from a distance of about eight feet, well within close binoculars focus.  For a long moment my neurosis was set aside. The Inca tern is a gorgeous bird, a stately gray, his cap tending towards black, with magnificent white mustaches.  This fellow was sitting peacefully on a small lava outcropping virtually at my feet.

    After I enjoyed my look, Sandra took her turn and nabbed the picture you see here with her Samsung cell phone.  We each had one more look and then headed back.  The admonition about care around the cliffs had been appropriate, but who could have known we would be led so close to the bird.  Certainly he didn't seem disturbed and I was hoping we had not denigrated his wild integrity.

     As we walked towards the fishermen, Sandra nabbed a photo of the group.  Turning around, we were

Our Fisherman Friend feeds Buddy, the Inca Tern.

now able to spot the tern on his lava perch from about thirty feet away.  There he sat, six feet below the edge of the cliff.  At that moment the Inca Tern took wing, a gray apparition in the warm breeze.  He flew just past the group of fishermen, turned and landed about ten feet from them.  At that juncture, our new best friend stepped towards the bird and flipped him a small piece of bait.  "You missed." one of his colleagues admonished.  And so he returned to the bait box and cut a couple more.  These were slivers about a half inch thick and two inches long, roughly the size of one of his fingers. We were able to watch through the binoculars from about twenty feet as our friend kneeled a few feet away from the bird and flipped tidbits to the grateful tern who did his part by chomping them down. 

   At this point we discovered that the rare Peruvian tern had a name.  Like Bill Clinton's dog he is named Buddy.  As in, "Buddy, do you want some more?"

   When he stood to cut some more I asked if that was squid.  "No," he said. "it's fish.  He won't eat squid.  And he won't eat shrimp.  Only fish.  And its got to be fresh fish. He's a choosy bugger."

    Thanking the group, Sandra and I turned to go.  Almost immediately we met an earnest young Caucasian, binoculars draped around his neck, carrying a spotting scope in a fancy canvas bag.  "You're not going to need the scope." I greeted him with the smile only a life bird can bestow.  A few feet further along we encountered a husband and wife team of about our age.  "Have you seen any terns?" the fellow asked with a smile.  

    "Just one." I replied.  Thinking at the same time that the group of fisherman were just about to find out what a rare bird frenzy is all about.

Jeff

All pictures in the blog were taken by the redoubtable SKG.  For some amazing pictures of Buddy, check out this link from the Hawaii Birding Facebook page.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/HIBirdwatchingLT