A Christmas Wrasse on Christmas Eve 2023

I'm dreaming of a white urchin.

    Two days ago Sandra and I went snorkeling together at Kahalu'u.  We picked a time based on tide, halfway between full and empty it was going to be one foot at one o'clock, and the wave conditions, which were mild.  We also noted the weather, which was just about the opposite of what Bing Crosby crooned in Mele Kalikimaka.   His Hawaiian Christmas was clear and bright while what Kona was experiencing was stormy with a chance of meatballs.  Did I get that right?

     Hence, at the height of Christmas vacation the bay was almost deserted.  But the water was still somewhere on the warm side of frigid as the two of us pushed off towards the corner, going for the Christmas Wrasse first.  Just as we reached the boulders near Alii Drive, we heard a gentle pattering, like someone making popcorn in the next room.  Yes, Virginia, big fat raindrops were falling on my head.  And Sandra's, too, for that matter.  When you're already submerged, the latent heat of evaporation doesn't come into play, so the effect was actually pleasant.  Perhaps this is the closest you can get to a White Christmas in Kona.

Stout Moray with lockigen haar.  Kahalu'u December 2023

     And the tutu sings, "I'm dreaming of a wet Christmas, on any cold Hawaiian day. Where the puddles glisten, and keikis listen, to hear raindrops in the bay."

    Undeterred, we swam on.  Almost out to the Rescue Shelter, we were met by a nice, fat Christmas Wrasse speeding in the other direction.  Hoping for a picture, I struggled to free the camera, but before I could shoot he was long gone. Aloha nui loa.

     By this time, the rain had stopped and we made our way into the middle of the bay.  There we saw a bunch of long spined urchins and one that was almost white.  Well, maybe it only seemed that way.  But it was different enough that I held out hope for something special, even though it fell into the standards of the Banded Urchin.   I even sent this picture to John Hoover, who must be bored, because he wrote back immediately, confirming what it said in his book.  "Sometimes those urchins are almost all white. Check out p.313 of the creature book."  Which I already had.  Why do I waste his time?

A Plump Puffer and His Christmas Cleaner

     A bit further along, we saw this nice eel, golden of hue and with an unusual rectilinear pattern behind his head.  He was  just brave enough to maintain his position while I dove to take his picture, which he promised to put on a Christmas card and send to all his slithery relations as soon as he can get to the post office.  As long as I was boring John Hoover with urchins, I ran this one by him and he conformed, despite the interesting  geometric patch, stout moray. 

   Finally, we saw this fine chubby puffer with an attentive cleaner wrasse, always a treat.

     Sadly, the following morning, it was revealed that the snorkeling experience had left the lovely Miss Sandra hors de combat.  Or at least, hors de plongées libres., as Jaques Cousteau might have intoned.

    Accepting what life gives us, in the late morning, following our yuletide run to the yard debris, I was dropped off at the pier for a swim on Paul Allen's Reef.  As an aside, it almost doesn't seem like Christmas in Kona without Paul's helicopter hovering over the Kailua Pier.   

Yellowtail Scad in the Inner Harbour,  Christmas Eve 2023

    Christmas Eve was overcast, but not raining.  Starting out in the Inner Harbour, the water was cold, but tolerable, and only a bit cloudy.  This was lucky, because out by Kamehameha's heiau I ran into a school of Yellowtail Scad.  This was only my second experience with this species.  Unlike its far more common cousin, the Big-eye Scad, yellowtails tends to live in deeper water, as opposed to inshore bays.  So while far from rare, it is not seen commonly by snorkelers.  And is not found on any page in Hoover's fish book.

Saint Freckleface perched upon his Christmas Coral

    Shortly thereafter, I saw a juvenile Surge Wrasse.  Very similar to Thalasoma yuletideii.   In the pas,t and under duress, I have been tempted to claim this fish for the completion of the Christmas Wrasse on Christmas Day quest.  The juveniles are very similar, but there are a couple good clues to separate them and to the best of my recollection I have not succumbed to that Grinchy temptation.  

   The water was much warmer in the small bay that faces both the luau grounds of the Kamehameha Hotel and the entrance to Paul Allen's lagoon.  And in patches it was fairly clear.  On one clump of meandrina coral I spotted a small Freckle Faced hawkfish that held still.  And there were other fish, but not a profusion. 

   I checked a couple other cauliflower corals for Spotted Scorpionfish and Coral Croucher, but to no avail.  And then I turned towards the point that separates this small inlet from Kailua Bay proper.  And this is when all hell broke loose.  What had been a peaceful pond was now a very bumpy ride with lots of current and slosh.  I hate C and S, don't you?  I had hoped for a Christmas Wrasse in this area, but I was distracted by the need to stay clear of the rocks.  Without seeing too much, I made it around the point where there were a few of the usual suspects and then turned back.  

Whitespotted Surgeon at the entrance to Paul Allen's Lagoon

   It had been relatively calm on the ocean side, but back in the inlet it was actually rougher.  As I approached the entrance to Paul Allen's lagoon , I was greeted by three Whitespotted Surgeons.  A fish usually seen where the waves are breaking violently against the rocks, their presence here was indicative of the turbulent conditions.  

   The Whitespotted Surgeons were joined in the moving water by a pair of Sailfin Tangs and a school of yellow Tangs.  I got a couple pictures of this group, which was cavorting right in the lagoon entrance.   As it turns out, the lagoon entrance is formed by steep walls of lava reaching down ten feet or so, deep enough to provide a safe channel for boats at low tide.  Now these rocks, ordinarily ignored by the casual snorkeler, were being buffeted by waves, creating a playground for these kings of the surf.  

We Three Kings of Paul Allen' Lagoon.  /  We're determined to make Jeff look a buffoon.

The Christmas Wrasse on Christmas Eve 2023

    Well, I made it across the lagoon entrance, a mere forty feet, to the opposing ridge of steep lava, and there I struck pay dirt.   In the swirling water was a large, beautiful Christmas Wrasse.  He was swimming hither and yon, the light conditions were terrible  and the water was turbulent and full of debris, but a picture, the type that verifies what you saw regardless of pleasing aeshetic quality, was mandatory.  I took a bunch of pictures and you see the best. 

     As I was working on getting a picture, while placing a priority on keeping myself afloat, a smaller Christmas Wrasse swam by.  Much smaller, but with full adult coloration.  I tried to get his picture, as well, but only succeeded in getting a tail on perspective.

    While what you see here is not fit for a Christmas card, it at least it documents our success on Christmas Eve in Kona.   

    The swim wasn't over.  I made it across the bay uneventfully, but ended up  a good distance to the left of the entrance into the Inner Harbour.  As I made my turn, a juvenile five stripe wrasse swam by.  I followed him for a bit and attempted some pictures.  The deplorable conditions persisted and he wasn't really a very pretty fish.  As I was failing at this endeavor, an even smaller, less colorful five stripe appeared. 

   In lieu of showing you another poor picture, I'm including a picture of the same fish, initial phase Five Stripe Wrasse, taken in exactly the same spot on Christmas Day 2018.  Merry Christmas from the editorial staff at the blog.

   Admitting the futility of this enterprise I started for the harbor entrance.  Perhaps I wasn't paying attention, which isn't the best thing to do when you are swimming by yourself in the ocean, but I made a wrong turn onto rip rap that terminated on the wave tossed shore.  Luckily I was able to turn around with only a few bumps, and no cuts, and found the correct rip rap to swim over.   Soon enough I was back inside, where young families from places like Fresno and Omaha were enjoying the calm, frigid water. 

The Warrior of Kalikimaka.

   On shore, I was  standing in front of the Kona Boys shack, putting on my hat and dark glasses when a gentleman stepped into the shallows a few yards away.  Bare to the waist, he struck a pose like a Hawaiian petroglyph and then at the top of his lungs he exclaimed, " I have been a warrior!  I killed ten years ago! This is my testimony!..." It went on for an uncomfortable while.  The people from Omaha were aghast, but the ones from Fresno were like,  "Just get on with it."

     And that's how it is when you go snorkeling at the Kona Pier on Christmas.   

Mele Kalikimaka. 

 jeff   

It's Christmastime in Kona

The shampoo that entices a pretty wrasse.

     A few days ago it turned into Christmastime in Kona.  Traffic picked up and the number of unfamiliar people walking in our neighborhood rose dramatically.   Figuring that all this would translate into a lot of full contact snorkelers at our favorite little bay, we headed down early.  Before 9:00 AM things were busy, but not out of hand.  

    As I have returned to snorkeling, I have been  tweaking my rusty list of preparations.   As an example, I had exchanged text messages with Bob Hillis while Sandra and I were at the Aloha Theater.  He recommended baby shampoo for sea drops.   With a freshly cleaned mask and the Hillis formula, we were determined to have a good look at what God had to offer. 

    Along with the baby shampoo, I was on this day incorporating a  bamboo walking stick for entry. into my armamentarium. One needs to fall off the Little League bleachers once or twice (among other humiliating things) to understand that he needs all the help he can get in tricky situations where good footing and balance are at a premium.  

Christmas Wrasse, Kahalu'u.  December 2023

   It was a really high tide and Sandra served as my Bat Girl, getting me safely over the shore rocks, then taking the stick back to our table, there to wait for the next call to duty.  After all that, she headed off to the KTA, hoping for something special for dinner.   

   When I was texting with Bob about baby shampoo, he mentioned that he was looking forward to our Christmas Day hunt for the eponymous wrasse.  I have been thinking about the annual Christmas Wrasse on our Christmas Day hunt as well,  and with that in mind, as I swam out into the bay, I turned right, heading for the inshore  corner of the bay where I felt it was most likely we would see the colorful and elusive object of our holiday hunt. 

I

Barred Jack, Kahalu'u, February 2012

   On this day the gods were with us and as soon as I got in my preferred position among the boulders, a Christmas Wrasse appeared.  This was a full sized adult with handsome coloration.  He swam rapidly, as they are wont to do, but stayed with me for about five minutes during which I took several pictures.  

     As I was enjoying the wrasse, it was apparent that this was a good morning for fish in general.  As I was working on getting a good picture of the Christmas Wrasse, a pair of Barred Jacks raced by.   I had the camera in hand but by the time I snapped off a shot, they were receding into the distance.  

    Barred Jack is not a rare fish, but in our inshore bays it is much less common than Christmas Wrasse, which is far from an every day fish.   As you can see from the caption, I created this nice picture in 2012.  It doesn't seem like 2012 should be all that long ago, but, obviously, its more than a decade.  Hmmm. 

    I swam out along the shoreline, where the waves break on the lava.  This twenty yards of wave swept rock is all good habitat for the Christmas Wrasse, but I did not see another.  Clearly that first one was a gift. If we choose this swim on Christmas Day can we count on another such gift?

Red Labrid Wrasse, Kahalu'u December 2023

   At the Rescue Shelter I headed out across the bay.  I didn't see any special animals in this area, but I narrowly avoided a fellow snorkeler heading out bound at full speed. 

    Having avoided disaster, I headed in and in a short distance passed a pair of Oval (formerly Rainbow) butterflyfish.  These are sort of unusual in Kahalu'u, but quite expectable at the pier.  Had this pair ventured in to enjoy high tide conditions or are they extending their range due to global warming?  These small differences in range may be significant.  Perhaps not on the same scale as the Humpback Whales staying in Alaska to breed, but every little change is worth noting

  In almost the same spot, I found a fine Red Labrid Wrasse.  I love all our keikis, but I have to admit that this is the flashiest baby in Hawaii.  The juvenile of the Yellowtail Coris, it is probably the fish that causes novice fishwatchers to insist that they saw Nemo (or one of his ilk) while snorkeling in the Aloha State.  

Triton's Trumpet resting in the sand.

    This fish was large for a baby, yet with no evidence of transition and was cooperative, giving me a chance to take some pictures.   

     I had some more time before my rendezvous with Sandra, so I swam across to the Menehune breakwater.  The tide was so high that I might have been able to thread my way all the way into the ocean  (if I was sufficiently brave or insane).  I didn't see anything special there, although I was by myself and an octopus seemed possible.  Way back in the day we used to call this area Butterflyfish Flats, because we saw both Klein's (Blacklip) and Citron (Speckled) there on one productive spring vacation.  Alas, there were relatively few fish, butterfly or otherwise on Butterflyfish Flats on this high tide morning.

If you use your imagination you might see a hermit crab.

    On the way back, however, I saw a magnificent shell resting inconspicuously on the sand between a couple pieces of coral.  It was only four feet down, so I dove and retrieved it.  It turned out to be a large Triton's Trumpet, one of my favorite shells.  And this one was in excellent condition.  Almost as big as my fist, this was a large shell.  Lacking an operculum, I assumed it was no longer home to a snail.  As such, it might be the home for a large hermit crab.   Although the tide was high, there was little wave action at that moment and I was able to rest the shell on a coral, just a foot below the surface.  I watched it for a couple minutes, taking a few pictures and sending out welcoming vibes, but to no avail.

    I was hoping for a really large ornate or a blood crab.  And such a crab may have been hiding deep inside the shell.  But, I saw no evidence of an emerging claw and  I couldn't wait forever.  So I put the shell back in the sand, face down, a potential home for some lucky crustacean in search of swanky digs.   

    Well, this had already been a very satisfying swim, but on the way in, almost to the edge of the shore lava, I saw a healthy Milletseed Butterflyfish.  A few years ago, when this species was flickering out in K Bay, there was a raggedy straggler that struggled to hang on.  He was a sad puppy.  

Milletseed Butterflyfish, Kahalu'u December 2023

    Milletseeds used to be common at Kahalu'u and they occurred in a large school, twenty or more fish.  This guy, as I'm certain that you will attest, looked gorgeous and robust.  Perhaps he is the vanguard of a milletseed revival.  Wouldn't that be sweet?

    Sandra met me at the shore, tossed me my stick and soon enough I was showered off and changed.  At the table next to me was a petite Asian lady with precise make up.  One has to wonder, was she hoping to impress the fish?  Her male consort soon appeared and I asked him, "Are you guys from Japan?"  

   No, they were Korean.  And like most Koreans, quite friendly.  I told them about the Korean kids that played Little League baseball with Colsen back in Camas, and especially about the parents with whom I had become friends.  One of the dads had taught me a word he used to cheer on the his son and on occasion the rest of the team.  Chua! , which I am told means Great! Sadly, Google interpreter doesn't help me with the spelling  (All I get is lines of inscrutable Korean script)    But my new friends recognized what I was saying.  And we ended our visit with a Korean cheer which pretty much summed up this day at K Bay.  Chuaaa!

jeff

A Bloody Hermit crab emerges from a well worn Titon's Trumpet,  and he has a quiz for you!  If you can name Nemo's father, you will decipher the delicious fish that Sandra scored at the KTA for dinner.

Kawaihae

Kawaihae in December.

       For our first swim together, Sandra and I chose to venture north to Kawaihae.  I have an upcoming gig with the Keiki Museum to recreate a portion of a cement pillar in the harbor, covered with various yucky fouling organisms, sponges in a variety of authentic colors, nudibranchs, shrimp, etc.  And we have sort of arranged a communal swim with our liaison to the museum, the effervescent Anne Van Brunt, so that she can get a better vision of the project that she is designing.  Hence, Sandra and I had a compelling reason to generate an up to date report on all that fancy muck.

    We got an early start and arrived at Kawaihe around 9:00 AM.  It was a strikingly beautiful morning, bright blue sky with only a few fluffy clouds, Mauna Loa snaking its way into the sea and only a few like minded, harbor loving individuals in the vicinity.  Soon enough we were in the gear we had chosen for the excursion, Sandra in a dive skin and your faithful correspondent in his neoprene vest sans leggings.  

The Banded Coral Shrimp Plays the Coquette

     As we sat on the LST landing platform, adjusting our fins and mask, we were greeted by a large dog.  He was patiently waiting while his owner paddled around the platforms.  There was a piece of rebar protruding from the sand and a submerged leash, but the hound was unattached and able to saunter over and get his ears scratched.  What a good boy!  

   I beat Sandra into the water by a minute or two and by the time she joined me at the first platform, I had already found a banded coral shrimp.  Previously, these handsome crustaceans were easy to spot inside the platform, requiring a bit of hydrobatics for a good look.  This fellow was on the outside, but tucked under a coral ledge.  His flamboyant antennae gave him away and every now and then he would extend a  claw in an attempt to get me to do something stupid in order to get a better good look.  At this point I just put the camera under the ledge and attempted to get the on board computer to do the heavy lifting.  I got a poor picture that showed a blurry, if identifiable, banded coral shrimp. 

The keiki scribble aligns against the pillar.

      We circled the first platform and then headed out to the second.  Here we found the pillars covered with raggy fouling vegetation, but relatively few sponges and no visible feather duster worms or hydroids.  And despite a careful search, no nudibranchs.  As I was completing my circuit, Sandra called me urgently.  She had unearthed (or is it unwatered?) a juvenile Scribbled Filefish.  We had watched one of these keikis in this very location a couple years ago, and it is a real treat.  Aluterus scriptus is a funny looking fish even in the adult form, but the baby is especially ungainly. In the past a smaller fish had attempted to fool us by aligning with a bit of submerged rope.  This guy, as you can see, thought that lining up with a pillar would throw us off the chase.

 
       Still under the threat of a nudibranch skunking, we headed out to platform three.  Here, on the shady west side, I found a fine Gloomy Nudibranch.  I have been making nudibranchs for the museum display.   In spite of the fact that this is among the three most common at Kawaihae, I have yet to attempt a gloomy.  This is a very handsome animal, and the flamboyant gills are perhaps the best part.  Flat and branching, with a two tone cream and black coloration, gloomy gills would look simply smashing on a royal chapeau at Ascot. My skill with the clay is such that rendering these gills would be impossible.  Stay tuned to see my next effort at creating gloomy gills on a clay model. 

Gloomy gills, a milliner's dream.

   As we finished up on the third platform, I was plagued with equipment issues.  On my first swim back, at Kahalu'u, I had experienced unsustainable mask fogging.  I thought that if I applied more and better sea drops, this would not be an issue.  But now it was.  Seeing is believing and not seeing is unacceptaable, especially if you are swimming around a complicated structure.

    Spitting in the mask helped a little, but in the preocess I dislodged my hat.  Attempting to get everything rearranged, I ended up losing my glove.  No amount of searching would reveal it.  This is more of an issue at Kawaihae than at most places.  And having suffered one significant finger infection, I am unhappy without some protection at any site.  Here we had no choice but to soldier on, but I needed to be a lot more careful when positioning against the pillars and the coral.  Bummer. 

Blacktail Snapper in the shade of the third platform.

    Between the third platform and the finger jetty, we encountered a large school of Blacktail Snappers.  These beautiful fish were introduced to Hawaii as a potential food source.  However both the blacktail and the Bluestripe Snapper have proved to be ciguatoxic in Hawaii.   The bluestripe is often seen in large schools, but in most circumstances one sees the blacktail singly or in small groups.  Here a large school provided an interesting visual.  In the shade of the third platform, with their bright pectoral fins showed brilliantly in the dark water.  

   Well, we had our nudibranch and Sandra was getting cold, so it was time to head in.  As we approached the first platform, I sent her ahead and took one more try at the Banded Coral Shrimp.  The little darling hadn't moved, so it was just a matter of diving down a few feet, hanging on, twisting and looking up, focusing and get the shot.  Easy, right? 

The Irresistable Shrimp in his Lair.

    Well, I got my shot, but in the process I found myself in an intimate embrace with the adjacent pillar.  In the event, my picture wasn't quite as nice as I hoped, but Kanaloa awarded me a fine little laceration on my thigh for my troubles.  And that is why the gods created betadine.

 Swim safe and prosper,

jeff

The Return of the Nose or a New Starfish for K Bay

    A new blog has been a long time coming.   In large part this is because on October 25th I had Moh's surgery on my nose.  When the diagnosis (skin cancer of the nose) was made in Portland in June, I was told I needed this special surgery, but so many other Oregonians were ahead of me in line that it was a six month waiting list.  Is this what it's like in Canada?  The silver lining to this deplorable cloud was that I might be able to have the surgery at Kaiser in Hawaii.  Strange as it may seem, within a fortnight of our arrival back in Kona, I was scheduled for the following week. 

The Buddha's Cup Awaits a Lucky Lepidopterist.

     It took five weeks to heal my schnoz sufficiently to warrant a return to the sea.  In the meantime we have tried to keep  busy. 

   One day we went with one of the directors of the Keiki Museum to an upland coffee farm here in Holualoa,  Buddha's Cup.  Our friend Anne, had heard from Siddhartha's companion that there were Kamehameha butterflies among their māmaki plants.  Anne made it sound like an extensive plantation, after all, the coffee company markets māmaki tea.  But when were deployed, boots on the ground as it were, there were six māmaki  shrubs spread out over an acre.  We spent almost  two hours patrolling the beat, waiting for Vanessa tameamea to flutter by.  Hence, from just after 10 until we went bat shit crazy around noon, we got an eyeful of Hawaiian nettle and, suffice it to say, zero butterflies. 

Is this the creepiest creche of all time, or what?

    I really wanted to write a blog.  Had we been successful,  I believe it would have been the first confirmed sighting of this threatened butterfly in Kona.  But who wants to be the publisher of the Journal of Negative Results?  If you want to take your chances, Google maps will guide you two miles up a windy one lane road to the Buddha's Cup coffee plantation where they serve food, offer tours at great expense and serve absolutely delicious coffee.  For a price Ugatti, for a price. 

    At other times I have kept busy making butterflies for an upcoming workshop, and nudibranchs and caterpillars.  And here you thought "only God can make a caterpillar"...Alfred Joyce Kilmer, loosely.   

     These latter are fashioned from fast drying clay that the previously mentioned Mrs. Van Brunt supplied me  at one of our weekly meetings.  Its like Anne has been my occupational therapist these last five weeks. She makes it appear that she works for free in this capacity, but this is an illusion. She is repaid in paper mache fish , clay nudibranchs...  the list goes on.  Both Sandra and I love her immeasurably.

   Sandra has a joke for you:  What do call a butterfly with no wings?   A caterpillar! 

A handsome Cylindrical Starfish, Kahalu'u  December 2023

      At any rate, today we let the nose lead us into the water at Kahalu'u.  It was a little rough and very choppy.  Additionally,  I am now so out of shape that it's ridiculous.  But in the nose's half hour at sea, he did spy a cleaning station with the eponymous wrasse doing his duty on a couple manini, and this nice  starfish. At first I thought it was a linckia star.  But more careful examination reveals those longitudinal plates marching down the arms.   As it turns out,  this is a life starfish for both the nose and the guy that follows along close behind.  A Cylindrical Star, D. cylindricus.  Although I have not previously recorded this species, it may not be highly unusual.  A furtive fellow, he spends his life (according to the Oracle of Ola'a, John Hoover himself) hiding under rocks.  And who am I to turn my nose up at a life starfish?  In the spirit of twitchers everywhere, I say Tick it off!  

     So the nose is on duty and he promises to sniff out something interesting in the near future.  Unless, of course,  the beast is under water in which case the nose will mind his manners and stay in the mask.

jeff

A Superb Alpine Meadow Near Timberline, Oregon

    Butterfly season was tapering down.  We had seen nothing at Dougan Falls, and Sue Anderson in Eugene, told us that we were several weeks late for California Sister.  We had been counting on going back to Peterson Prairie for the fritillary extravaganza, but Caitlin LaBar reported that the show there was already past its prime, and the butterfly we most wanted to see, the Mormon Fritillary, had done its deed and retired for the season.  She did note that the Mormon Frit is a high altitude butterfly and looking near timberline at Mount Rainier or Mount. Hood could still be worthwhile.  The higher you go, the later the wildflowers and butterflies appear. 

Mount Hood soars above Alpine Campground, August 2023

    With this bit of news as a carrot, the following morning Sandra and I hopped into the Bot-mobile and headed up to Mount Hood.  The ride up was surprisingly easy and we made it to our first stop, the Mirror Lake Trailhead by 9:30. We dawdled around for a bit; 9:30 is just too early for a self respecting butterfly.  By 10 we were on the trail and after half a mile were disappointed to find that this was going to be a hike through a forest, with no butterfly habitat.  

    Past Government Camp we tried Snow Bunny, where we had seen Green Commas in May.   There were some wildflowers, but either it was too early in the day or, from a butterfly point of view, too late in the season. And so we pointed the car uphjll and headed towards Timberline.  The road climbs steeply; its just under 4,000 feet at Government camp and 6,000 feet at Timberline Lodge.

A Painted Lady nectars on the asters.

   As we climbed, we saw a few clumps of wildflowers, but no butterflies.  Almost to Timberline, right at the 1 mile marker, we were suddenly blessed with a meadow of purple and yellow flowers that paralleled the road for at least 100 yards.  And lo and behold, at the upper edge of this alpine meadow was a dirt entrance to a National Forest campground.   I backed into the first camping spot, stepped out of the car and a dark orange butterfly shot by.  Eureka!

   The target butterfly for this trip was the Mormon Fritillary   It occurs at lower altitudes, like Peterson Prairie, but by frit standards, it is a high altitude butterfly. Luckily it has three morphologic features which separate it from the similar zerene and coronos. It is significantly smaller, has rounded wings and it is less orange, sometimes bronzy in coloration. 

   The meadow was so beautiful.  Expanses of purple asters mixed with yellow monkey flower,  and nestled against the spruce forest.  By now it was almost 11:00. Occasionally one of the medium sized butterflies would shoot by.  We were able to appreciate the rounded wings, and the size was suggestive of mormonia, but the darn things wouldn't hold still for a picture and the few opportunities we got with a net were unsuccessful.  

Painted Lady and Asters.

    We walked down the dirt road for about 100 yards, appreciating at least seven camp sites, all with picnic tables.  The forest service had placed small red flags in the fire pits to discourage use.  And we did continue to see those medium sized butterflies.  Finally I crept in to get a shot at one perched beneath a spruce.  He eluded my camera, but I did get a good look at his ventral hind wing, which as we know, tells the story with fritillary butterflies.  It had an array of spots consistent with the Mormon Frit.  

    As we walked back to the car we enjoyed views of Mt. Hood between the towering trees.  Once at the car, we saw a beautiful butterfly with lots of white spots in the adjacent meadow.  I stalked among the asters and one landed by my feet, slowly opening and closing its wings while nectaring.  My cell phone sufficed to get some good pictures.  Back at the car, the butterfly book confirmed that this was a Painted Lady.  You may recall that three weeks ago we saw this butterfly at James house, roughly 1200 feet elevation.  A few days later all the butterflies in his neighborhood had disappeared.  

Painted Lady under glass.

    We watched the ladies for a while and Sandra, coming from a hunting tradition, netted one.   Curiously, we saw no more of those medium sized frits while we ate lunch.  following our al freso repast we headed up to Timberline Lodge.

   It is only a third of a mile from Alpine Campground to the beginning to the Timberline complex.  This might be considered walking distance if you really enjoy a steep uphill walk.  From the fork in the road it is another quarter mile up to the lodge and the new day use building.  We encountered this handsome new edifice on our spring fling when we spent a night in the lodge.  I did not go in, but it surely boasts the sort of facilities (clean restrooms, possibly showers) that we did not see at the Alpine Campground.  On this warm mid-week day the lodge parking lot was extremely busy and we just drove through, back to our peaceful meadow.  

    I took one more stroll through the campground and spotted a small orange butterfly, surely a Western Meadow Fritillary on my walk. The contrast with the hub bub at the lodge was remarkable.  

    Back home we had a chance to photograph Sandra's Painted Lady.  Some butterflies simply don't settle even when refrigerated and that was the case with this beauty.  As a consequense, most of our pictures were taken with the butterfly under a stemless wine glass.  We found that when Sandra rattled the butterfly just a bit, he would flap and then, as he settled,, afforded us a look at his red markings on the ventral front wing.  In modeling vanessa butterflies, this is a very useful look.  Compare it with the picture taken not under the glass, which may be a bit sharper.  

   After the photo session, the butterfly flew off in the direction of Mount Hood.  Painted Ladies are famous fliers and I think maybe he made it back to Alpine Campground. 

    If you are of the camping persuasion, a site here is $25, assuming someone comes around to collect it.  There is a gate which may be closed in the evening.  It is a slice of alpine peace and beauty and perfect for August butterflies.

jeff

   

 

 

The Denizens of Dougan Creek

       On Friday Sandra and I made one of our regular forays to the Upper Washougal..  Traveling a bit further than usual, up to 1300 feet elevation, we were unable to do better than the small ruddy skipper that we have been seeing in the area. 

Juba Skipper, Livingston Mountain, August 2023

 To the best of my ability, this humble butterfly is a Juba Skipper.  As far as butterflies went,  this ruddy little stub kept us from being skunked.  Not what you would call a sterling day for the old lepidoptera.

   As we descended along the river, I spotted a chunky grouse on the side of the road. She let us cruise by slowly as she meandered into the roadside weeds.  This was a Blue Grouse, now known as a Dusky Grouse.   This bird was once common, but at least in my current meanderings, it is unusual.  We saw one just after dawn on Mount Rainier last summer, so I now have a two year streak going on Blue Grouse.  Or is it Dusky Grouse?

    Of course, be it blue or dusky, this bird comes with an anecdote.

    When my son was courting the mother of my grandchildren, he was driving with his future father in
law in the hills near Roseburg, Oregon.  They happened upon just such a blue grouse and the pater familias leaped from the cab and dispatched said grouse with his handy shotgun.  This may explain why we don't see many blue grouse.  It also explains why the Recoubtable SKG discourages me from confronting pickup driving rednecks in the Fred Meyers parking lot.  I mean, how would I look, recumbent in a broiling pan packed with a savory stuffing?

    Or to quote Washout from the teenage classic Hotshots, "If it helps, I didn't have seconds."

   The grouse went a ways towards justifying the expedition as we proceeded past Dougan Falls, turning up the creek towards our favorite picnic spot.  When we got there, we discovered that someone had pitched a rather nice tent right where we park for our al freso afternoon meal..  The audacity of some people!  

   Well, we brought the boat about and found a different wide spot in the road where we enjoyed our sandwiches while not seeing any butterflies.  It has rained exactly one day in the last two months, so this may explain the lack of both wildflowers and butterflies.  

    Sandra was feeling lazy, so she let me go off by myself, wandering past the interloper's tent and down to the creek.  When I got there, I discovered that the campers had left a plastic box, the type in which you store unused sweatshirts.  As I  approached, I could see rocks and water in the box.  And when I peered inside, I was treated to a surprising aquarium.  The campers, presumably including some curious children, had collected a variety of northwest aquatic wildlife.  They had a few fish, some water boatmen, a crawdad and three brown salamanders.

Stop Grousing about the lack of butterflies!

     Not being a child myself, I have not seen these animals for many years.  But, hard to believe, I was young once.  Way back then, even in the little creeks in Vancouver, we found crawdads.  My son tells me that  they found them in the creeks around Salem, but by that time (I was 40, for crying out loud) I was  too old to dabble in the mud. 

   The first sign that you are getting old is that you include gardening in your list of hobbies.  That you exclude mud dabbling from the list is another tell tale sign. 

     Taxonomists tell us that this crawdad was a Signal Crayfish, P. leniusculus.  Crayfish are closely related to lobsters, making them eminently edible if a bit small, and occur only in freshwater.  There are three invasive species of crayfish found in Eastern Washington, but this was almost certainly the native endemic from my childhood.

A plastic box on Dougan creek opens a trove of memories.

    My history with the salamander is shrouded in mystery.   Sixty years ago I was a Boy Scout.  As I recall, our troop would take camping trips to Silver Star Mountain, the highest spot in Clark County.  Needless to say, the camping trip was usually accompanied by a hike.

     The campground of my memory was across the road from a ranger station with a choice location...right beside a stream with a waterfall. And, you guessed it, in the pool below the falls there were salamanders.   The scouts caught these salamanders, which were fairly large, dark brown and totally aquatic, bearing obvious gills.  I can't recall for sure if the scouts of Troop 400 tortured these salamanders, or if it was different scouts and salamanders somewhere else. 

    As it turns out, there is just such a waterfall, Hidden Falls, near Silver Star, only seven miles as the crow flies from Dougan Creek.  But at this point my memory and the facts part company.  There is no road to Hidden Falls and there has never been a ranger station there. Only two things are certain: I didn't especially like the long hike and there were definitely brown aquatic salamanders.

Salamanders and a Crawdad, Dougan Creek August 2023

   The Burke Museum at the University of Washington (Go Huskies!) tells us these are Cope's Giant Salamanders, D. copei.  Despite being "giant" they achieve only a whopping eight inches.  They are almost entirely aquatic, a condition known as paedomorphosis. 

     Only a few metamorphosed adults have been found in the wild.  Scientists, who are at least as likely to torture salamanders as any boy scout, have been able to induce metamorphosis by exposing the salamanders to thyroid hormone.   What one then does with a metamorphosed Cope's Giant Salamander is anybody's guess.  Probably brain it with a piece of driftwood, ala the boy scouts, or, being scientific, toss it into jar of ever clear. This is what is known as your tax dollars at work.  

   But I digress.  The salamanders are endemic, living in the cool mountain streams of Western Washington.  With any luck they escape the notice of small children, boy scouts and scientists. They harbor under rocks during the day and emerge in the evening to forage on the bottom of streams. 

   Neither the crawdads nor the giant salamanders are threatened.  Regrettably, the same can not be said for my aging memory!  So get out there and create some memories of your own, before its too late

jeff

Vanessa, Vanessa...Two special butterflies in Southwest Washington.

     For those of us who watch butterflies in Hawaii, the genus Vanessa is special.  This is the genus that includes Hawaii's only endemic big, beautiful butterfly, the Kamehameha Butterfly.  I realize that there is a second endemic butterfly , a small blue known as the Hawaii Blue butterfly, Udara blackburni.  It is small and difficult (for me,at least ) to find.  Definitely not big and beautiful. 

Kamehameha Butterfly  Hawaii DLNR

 

     It is interesting that in our tropical paradise only two butterflies survived the arrival of the Polynesians, roughly 1000 years ago.  Biologists somehow know that there was a massive loss of plant species associated with the arrival of what we now call the native Hawaiians, and entomologists hypothesize that there were butterfly species like the Kamehameha that were inextricably linked to some of these plants.  As there is no fossil record and the Hawaiians did not capture and preserve butterflies way back then, this must fall into the realm of speculation.  If you visit local museums, and even some hotels like the King Kamehameha, in downtown Kailua Kona, you can see artifacts from the period that preceded contact with Europeans.  On display you will see red feathered capes and helmets bedecked with the remains of numerous Hawaiian honeycreepers.  But there are no such artifacts composed of otherwise unknown butterfly wings.  Shazbatt!

    Most of the butterflies that we see in Hawaii might be categorized as Garden Butterflies.  The ubiquitous monarch is a classic example.  It was introduced fifty years after European contact, and thrives on the introduced Crown Milkweed plant, found as an ornamental throughout the islands. 

Snowberry Checkersot, Upper Washougal,  July 2023

 

      The Kamehemeha Butterfly is assuredly not a garden butterfly.  It is linked inextricably to the native Hawaiian nettle mamake.  Thus, the Kamehameha finds itself on a bit of an ecological  precipice.  However , the genus Vanessa includes several other species found in Hawaii that are not linked to a single native plant.  We have been lucky enough to see two of them, the Painted Lady and the Red Admiral.   I emphasize lucky because these species are not common and they are not linked to a single host plant, allowing them to crop up sporadically.  

   All this brings us to Southwest Washington in the summer of 2023.  In our infant career as lepidopterists, Sandra and I have been fortunate to see a modest variety of native butterflies in the PNW.  Up till now, the genus Vanessa has eluded us.  Were it not for our connection to the Kamehmeha, perhaps I wouldn't have been so acutely aware of this deficit.  But the same factor that makes them sporadic in Hawaii is in effect throughout the lower 48.  This is to say, both the Red Admiral and Painted Lady butterflies can survive on more than one host plant and might show up anywhere.  Or to look at it from a slightly different perspective, there is no really special place to search for those species. These are not introduced butterflies, but they both occur in lots of habitats throughout North America. 

My Red Admiral displays on a fern leaf.

     Two weeks ago, Sandra and I were watching butterflies up at Dougan Falls.  We enjoyed an explosion of Snowberry Checkerspots.  We had seen that butterfly up there before, but this was special, with many individuals present.  After this show on the upper Washougal, we went to our favorite lunch spot on Dougan Creek.  As I got out of the car, a butterfly exploded in a flurry of red from the adjacent foliage.   "Could this be the Red Admiral?" I wondered. Ten minutes later,down by the stream, Sandra saw the beast.  I was way up on the road.  Not wanting to risk my breaking a leg in a willy nilly charge into the stream bed, Sandra kept her discovery to herself.  Luckily, the admiral made a visit to the fern beside the car, allowing me to get this picture.  This is not a great picture, but the butterfly is unmistakable .  I was maneuvering for better lighting when the butterfly flew away.  

 

Cinnabar Moth

     Three days later we took our daughter Leslie to the same spots.  In just a few days, the snowberries were remarkably reduced in number, and the Red Admiral, probably a single erratic individual, was nowhere to be seen.  How things can change in just a few days!  The day was saved by a moth, which we netted and took home for further examination.  I believe you will have to admit that the Cinnabar Moth, T. jacobaebae,  is not as pretty as Leslie and Sandra, but it is distinctive enough to brighten any days butterfly excursion.  

    This handsome devil has a story of its own.  Tansy Ragwort is a plant that looks like a tall, multi-blossomed  dandelion and is noxious to cattle.  It was first found in the Portland area in 1922.  The agricultural community declared tansy to be a dangerous introduction and starting in the 1960s began releasing Cinnabar Moths, whose caterpillars eat tansy ragwort. 

    Of course, these well intentioned attempts to eradicate introduced species rarely work.  We still have rats in Hawaii, and we are now blessed with the introduced mongoose and the barn owl.  In Southwest Washington we still have tansy, but we are lucky, I suppose, to have these incredibly handsome moths, in addition.  I really like barn owls and what would Hawaii be with out the ubiquitous mongoose?  Similarly the Cinnabar Moth is pretty enough to brighten any cloudy day in the PNW.  Should we congratulate the agriculturalists for increasing our non-native diversity?  In the same way that a Barn Owl might (or might not) consume a rat, this is food for thought.

    Well, our discovery of the Cinnabar Moth was heralded by my son James who saw "small red butterflies"while mowing his back forty high on the slopes of Livingston Mountain in Clark County.  A  week ago, walking his street before dinner,  I got a look at what I was sure was a Painted Lady butterfly, Vanessa cardui.  Sandra and I have seen few butterflies up there.  Last summer we saw a total of three:  two tiger swallowtails and an anise. And so, dinner two days ago was to provide another opportunity to butterfly this potentially new source for leps (as the aficionados say.)  in Clark County.

A Painted Lady dines on lavender nectar, Livingston Mountain

    James' house sits at 1850 feet, whereas the spot we experienced the explosion of Snowberry Checkerspots is only 1000 feet.  Butterfly lore tells us that these insects  like mountaintops. 

   Additionally,  Tara (my DIL) and her neighbors have been planting some flowers. As we know, those antennae, so iconic to my butterfly models, are powerful chemoreceptors, sensitive to the three big Fs:  foliage, pheremones and food.  Well, I don't think the there has been an invasion of host plants, And as far as pheremones go, it takes two to tango.  But food is a controllable variable. As we will see,  lushly blooming cosmos (planted by Tara) and the  lavender just up the street are apparent sources of nectar and a fantastic lure for butterflies. Twice on the Big Island we were invited to gardens where Gulf Frits were nectaring in great numbers, along with a few other butterflies that we were unable to identify.  I've been looking for a garden that attracts butterflies in our area for several years and have not found one.  Yet.

An oblique view confirms the identification.  July 2023

    We arrived at 2:30 on a hot afternoon.  I got my net and binoculars and walked up the 100 feet to the neighbor's driveway.  I had not previously appreciated the blooming lavender, but it was unmistakable on this afternoon.  Immediately I got a good look at a Painted Lady.  I raced back and retrieved Sandra and the camera.  For the next ten minutes we were treated to a show, with at least one lady, along with numerous bumblebees, nectaring on the lavender.  Considering the proximity of the butterflies, my efforts were just better than mediocre.  

    After a bit the lady was joined with a Pale Swallowtail (the first of the season for us) and numerous Clodius Parnassians.  The only butterfly we see even occasionally on this street is the tiger swallowtail and he was present as well.  What an amazing show on a street most often devoid of butterflies.

A Pale Swallowtail enjoys the lavender nectar.

   Painted Lady is a very interesting species.  It is the most widespread of all butterflies, found across North America and in every other continent except Antarctica.  In Europe it is found in the summer from Iceland, and south and east, to Turkey.  In the fall, adults migrate to Africa,  pausing on the way to go through a life cycle.  Of course they have been extensively studied.  So we know they go through six life cycles on their round trip from Iceland to south of the Sahara. And we know that they are perhaps the only butterfly that continues to breed, producing successful offspring throughout the winter.  

    It has been noted that Painted Ladies alter their migration in some areas in response to a strong winter rainfall.  Could the winter rains in California have induced the appearance of Painted Ladies on Livingston Mountain?  Maybe!

A Clodius Parnassian enjoys Tara's Cosmos

    Getting back to the three Fs, Painted Ladies have a wide range of host plants: calendula, hollyhock,  mallow sunflower and thistle, among others.  This undoubtedly comes into play as they migrate through different areas.  Sandra has become fascinated with the prospect of finding butterfly eggs.  As we walked James' road, we could not help but notice the thistles that are just getting ready to bloom.  Are they also hosting painted Lady Caterpillars?  Stay tuned for the redoubtable SKG is on the job! 

    Because this butterfly is such a successful migrant, some scientists suspect that it was the species that made the journey across the Pacific to Hawaii, evolving over millions of years into the Vanessa we revere on the Big Island, Vanessa tameamea.  So to the ladies on Livingston Mountain, Sandra and I send forth aloha and a heartfelt E komo mai.

jeff