And the List Goes On

     Starting a new list really is fun and it provides an unmistakable view of what one is seeing.  And not seeing.  Its so easy to get out of the water after a mediocre bout of fish watching and say, "Well, it was just the usual suspects."  According to the new list, what we are willing to accept as the usual suspects has

The Hawaiian Answer to Water Aerobics

changed over the years.  In a couple instances a relatively rare fish has become more common, but in many instances fish and critters that were common have become less so.

      On Tuesday morning around 10 AM, Sandra and I made it down to the beach in front of the King Kamehmeha Hotel.  This is truly a very pretty little beach and, although it is right out the back door of the hotel , it belongs to the  people, so everyone is welcome.  As we changed into our swim shirts and neoprene, we were entertained by a fellow, either a Hawaiian or a reasonable facsimile, playing his ukulele while standing waist deep in the protected Inner Harbour.  He was leading a group of ladies and one man (with seemingly no pride what so ever) in very mild hula moves.  As he played, he would instruct his brood to wave their arms

Waves Crashing on Paul Allen's Reef

to the left and then, a few moments later, to wave their arms to the right.  Not exactly water aerobics,  which for those of us who exercise as little as possible, is not to be scoffed at.  But they were having fun, enjoying the lovely morning and adding to a peaceful ambiance at the pretty King Kamehameha's beach.

    As we expected, the water in the Inner Harbour (being cooled by water percolating down from the mountain) was frigid, but became a little warmer as we passed the small jetty by the heiau.  Out in the bay, the water was a bit less cold, but far from what might call warm.  Swimming out to Paul Allen's lagoon, we nabbed the first two trumpetfish of 2017.  Vainly looking for the five stripe wrasse and Potter's angelfish, we at least got a look at the white spotted surgeon playing as the surf crashed against the lava shelf.

    Look carefully at the accompanying picture and you will see the surgeon right in the middle.  While you're in the process, count the number of living corals.  I count none.  The white spotted surgeon, like many of its ilk, is a herbivore.  It eats algae growing on rocks and dead coral in the surge zone.   Heaven only knows if there is some other aspect of this species biology that relates to Pocillipora corals, but at least from the standpoint of the adult diet, we should have this handsome acrobat of the surf for the forseeable future.

Mr. Whitley wishes You a Happy New Year!

  On the way back in we recorded the first reasonably good fish for the year, a Whitley's trunkfish, puttered around the coral debris in about ten feet.   My two son's found Whitley's on their own in the Inner Harbour about 25 years ago.  For about half an hour, they were up a fish on me.  But being good guides, they soon rectified this deplorable situation.

   There were no eels to be seen on this outing.  And the goldrimmed surgeon was not there either, although we suspect that we will find it on the PAR within a month.  There have been times in the past when this stretch of deeper water was a poor man's City of Refuge.  Things like three spot chromis, agile chromis and Thompson's butterflyfish have schooled there, dining on the up welling plankton.  As the year progresses, we will let you know if any of these fish make an appearance.

    Having completed our post-snorkel ablutions, while we were in the process of getting our things ready to depart, a man emerged from the beach boy hut, tooting what might have been a bosun's whistle.  I thought he was alerting two swimmers that they were returning to the beach via the channel reserved for the parasailing
boats, among other propellered craft.  But no, he didn't give a fig for their fate; those schmucks were on their own.  Rather, there was a careless tourist on the beach across the small bay, once the private beach of King Kamehameha the first and his kahunas. Eventually the man with the whistle was able to get the trespasser's attention and Hawaiian sanctimony was restored.  Barely.
 
    Yesterday Sandra kindly dropped me off for a quick swim at the pier while she attended to business mauka.  It was Wednesday, so the Carnival Lines was there with the attendant circus:  lots of curiously clad tourists, the older guy in the straw cowboy hat encouraging them to go to Kahalu'u on the Snorkelbus, and the mini-buses taking tourists to K-mart, Walmart and the International Marketplace, which is somewhat less grand than you might expect. The sound track to this confusion was provided by the small band that sits under the blue canopy, which later in the day provides shade for the sea going rats as they await their turn to board the tenders taking them back to the mother ship.

   There is  a swell coming in, so the water was quite cloudy, in addition to being quite cold.  That I had forgotten my neoprene vest, didn't help matters, but its hard to complain about 74 degree water when the

Here a Teardrop, There a Teardrop, Everywhere a Pair of Teardrops

ones you love are shoveling two feet of snow so they can get the car out of the garage.

    So to the gentle rhythms of the three piece Hawaiian jazz band, I set out into the bay.  Immediately, I saw a pair of ornate Butterflyfish and a Teardrop.  As I made my way through the cold, cloudy water, I mused that the ornate butterflyfish, probably by dint of not reducing in numbers at the same rate as other butterflyfish  has become our most commonly encountered member of the genus Chaetodon.  If you remember Robert McNamara and the War of Attrition, its possible that the same principles apply. The Milletseed, who easily held this title twenty years ago,  is hardly ever tallied by even the most vigilant snorkeler. Raccoons and Pebbled are around, but the ornate butterflyfish gets my vote for most frequently encountered by a snorkeler in a supporting role.  Not the worse case scenario, as, with those striking orange bars against pastel blue, it is a remarkably handsome fish.  Around the island you can pick up ashtrays, ornaments and wall plaques all modeled after the ornate.  But I really miss those clouds of milletseeds.   Any bets as to when or if we will add milletseed to the 2017 list?

The 2017 Milletseed is opening at 7 to 1 in Las Vegas

   And then we have the teardrop.  This used to be a moderately uncommon fish; thirty years ago when I would come with my family we were pleased if we added it to a week's list.  Now, one can pretty much expect to see this lovely yellow and white fish with the distinctive teardrop every time you don  mask and fins.  I guess life could be worse. 

    Very close in, through the murk, I spied a white saddle goatfish.  This is a very rare goatfish, perhaps because he is deemed the most palatable.  Or perhaps because we are on the edge of his range.  The white sadlle is second in scarcity, among the goats one might expect to see snorkeling in Kona, only to the band tailed goatfish. I have seen the latter only once in Hawaii.  Our friends Peter and Marla say that the

BTG is found regularly at Hapuna Beach, which is primarily known for its body surfing.  If things flatten out,

When I first saw him, he was out in the open.

we should impose upon them to guide us to this caudally striped treasure.

    The fish at hand on this day was harboring between two coral heads and when I addressed him with my trusty camera he sidled under one of the corals.  What you see here is my best effort to hold the camera under the coral and take his picture.  I'm sure you will agree that I captured just enough of the fish to confirm the identification.  On the other hand, as it is a perfectly lousy picture.  I am including a delicious picture of this uncommon fish taken in April of 2013.

    I saw nothing of merit on the rest of my cloudy loop around the bay.  As I returned near shore, I spotted a cute little immature threadfin flitting among the coral rubble.  I dove a couple times, attempting to take his picture.  As I surfaced the third time, I heard a whistle, similar to the one from the previous day.  Looking around , I realized that I was now five feet on the wrong side of the swim line and only thirty feet from a tender waiting to take the sea going rats back for their brunch buffet.  Overwhelmed with chagrin,

 I waved to the guard with the piercing, shrill whistle 
 And swam 'neath the line, like the down off a thistle.

White Saddle Goatfish,  Kailua Kona Pier, April 2013.

    So you see, with sufficient inattention to details, you too can be part of the circus.

   jeff.