Hanging With Hong

    Lately my brother, who is perhaps the chief inspiration for this literary effort, has been clamoring for another blog.  He is currently laid up in his house just north of Seattle recovering from major knee surgery.

Yellow Tangs at city of Refuge March 2016

We ain't talkin' 'bout no little arthroscopy, either.  He is hors de combat for four weeks.  Suffice it to say, there is nothing like being turned into a virtual shut in to set you to clamoring for a blog.

   With that in mind, the blogmeister and his sweetie have been doing their level best to seek out an adventure worthy of this site.  A few days ago we went to City of Refuge.  We had checked out the surf and tides, timed it perfectly, got a great parking spot and had a pure white bread experience.  The tourists on the beach were friendly enough, the water was calm clear and cool and the fish were about what you would expect. We did see a couple mature Thompson's surgeon and a Thompson's Butterflyfish getting himself cleaned, which might have been exciting five years ago.  Taking pictures of gray fish is a pretty low yield sort of enterprise, so I let it pass.

   One has to wonder if Mr. Thompson, an illustrator for the Bishop Museum, was a particularly drab sort of

fellow.  Obviously he didn't name these fish after himself.  Did some ichthyological wag put Thompson's name on the two dullest reef fish in Hawaii as an inside joke?  You can contemplate this over a bowl of milquetoast.

   The clear water begged for a photo, so I nabbed this group of yellow tangs.   Better than nothing.

    The closest thing we had to a real adventure occurred at the coffee outlet in Napoopoo where we were accosted by the resident flock of chickens.  Ordinarily these chickens are stand-offish; it wasn't why they were so friendly, but we assumed it had something to do with alimentation.   The proprietors were not offering any bakery samples, which we would have gladly purloined for the Fowles (John or otherwise) so I suppose we were as big a disappointment to the brood as City had been to us.

    Struggling to find a story, I went down to the pier two days ago.  Again there were no unusual fish.  In fact, I can pretty much assure you that the blacklip butterfly and the cushion star are no longer in residence.  I did spot this sea cucumber (possibly the Stubborn Sea Cucumber, H. pervicax ) flopping around in the shallows, presumably in a

The Stubborn Sea Cucmber, H. pervicax, Kailua Kona pier 2016

pre-morbid state. We see these lesser known species about once a year, virtually always an individual who has given up the ghost and failed to return to his rubble abode after his nocturnal peregrinations.

    As I got out of the water, I struck up a conversation with a bearded gentleman who was down for a morning dip, no long distance swimming or snorkeling, just hanging in the water.  Years ago he had lived in Kona, but now resides in Los Angeles.  With my new found knowledge of that metropolis, I dared to ask where in LA he lived.  Out in the valley, he said, up against the mountains near San Fernando.  I was able to talk to him about our failed search for Lawrence's Goldfinch in a park not too far from where he lives, fifteen miles being not too far around Los Angeles.  Although I could not remember the name, my description allowed him to name Hansen's Dam.  Sounds like water, but this park is actually a huge complex of  athletic fields surrounded by brush.  We saved the day by crossing the freeway and driving up into the San Gabriels, which were full of spectacular valleys and studded with blooming yucca.  But I digress.

    Well.  All this drivel did not amount to a blog, so yesterday I dutifully repaired to Kahalu'u, after making

Snowflake Moray at Kahalu'u.  Always a pleasure to be seen.

 sure I was not going at low tide. No injured feet for your humble reporter.

    It being Saturday, there was a baby luau occupying the kiosk at K Bay.  At least I assumed it was a baby luau.  There was a bunch of balloons, pink, blue and white, attached to one of the poles, but no posters proclaiming the baby's birthday, no stacks of gifts and only a handful of celebrants.

    Walking around to the ocean side I did run into a baby, a young woman and a man of about my age, the latter two being clearly of the Asian persuasion.  As he plopped the niño in his car seat near my feet, he said, "Excuse me, we have a baby. Our baby!"  and then spoke a phrase or two to the young woman in one of those inscrutable Asian languages.  My first thought was, "You old goat!"  Then, being the friendly amigo that I am, and fishing for a story for the blog, I inquired, "Are you from Japan?"

    "No." he replied.  "Korea....South Korea."  This latter, I assumed, was to reassure me that he wasn't packing a miniaturized nuclear weapon.  Perhaps that wasn't really a baby!  He then went on to say, "But

Submit your vote for the Easter Chorus to Ichthyology Inc.

we live in San Francisco."    I asked if they worked for a company like Google and the young lady replied, "No.  We are in health care."

    As I changed to go into the ocean, we became fast friends.  The man, who is named Hong, is an anesthesiologist, as am I.  The difference being that at 71 he is still working, traveling around the country doing locums jobs, while I, for the past three years, have been a slacker.   His wife is a retired anesthesiologist. And one of his daughters is an anesthesiologist.  And possibly one of his son in laws is one, as well.  Holy Halothane, Batman!

    This whole nest of anesthetists, along with their spouses and children, gradually assembled at the table adjacent to the baby luau, such as it was, and I set off for the sea.  I was in for a disappointment.  Sitting there on the rocks, with my aged derriere in the water, I put on my fins and then, just as I was to plunge into the water, I noticed that I wasn't wearing my mask.   In fact, it was nowhere to be seen.  I recalled, at this

Papa Hazlett's Hermit, Kahalu'u 2016

point, that I had left it on a chair on the lanai in order that it would not be damaged by the fierce Hawaiian sun.

  Well, as we say at the Korean laundry about five blocks up Market Street form Union Square, "No masky, no fishy."   Imagine my chagrin as I reappeared at the table by the baby luau to report my forgetfulness to all my new found friends and depart in disgrace.

   Back at Casa Ono, Sandra took pity on me, we collected the mask and repaired back to Kahaluu.  The family Hong was still there and they bid me good luck as I made it down to the bay.  The water not very cold and cleared as I swam out.  I got a nice picture of a small snowflake moray (perhaps our most handsome eel).  I also nabbed this interesting picture of a male elegant coris.  I am trying to popularize a change in common names for this species, putting  forth Easter Chorus in referece to the cross found on the forehead of the male.

내 블로그를 읽어 주셔서 감사합니다

      Finally I nabbed a mediocre picture of a magnificently  large Hazlett's hermit crab.  It is

always encouraging when one sees an animal that is big enough to  breed.  If this rogue does his duty, there will be another generation of Hazlett's hermits in the offing.  In a way, this is not so different from la familia Hong.  I doubt the hermit crabs will go to medical school or live in San Francisco, but, apparently, that is why God invented Koreans.  South Koreans.

jeff