The Christmas Wrasse Cometh 2025

    If you are a friend of the blog, you must have been on edge as Christmas bore down upon us like a load of fertilizer inadvertently dumped into a Mustang convertible.  Would he, or would he not, see the Christmas Wrasse on the appointed day.  That day moved a few years ago to December 24th, as Christmas Day has become excessively cluttered with sundry obligations.  

The Big Fish is no longer in the King Kam Hotel

    Yesterday, as you probably know, was both Christmas Eve and a Wednesday.  Wednesday is important here in the land of swaying palms and avocado tree blight, as it is not only one of the three days in a week that the Kealakehe Transfer Facility accepts yard debris, but it is also the day that the Carnival Cruise ship drops anchor in Kailua Bay.  Like clockwork, every Wednesday morning finds us motoring down the hill towards the Kuakini Highway.  a can or two of leaves and branches bouncing around in the back, as we simultaneously admire the monster cruise ship, gleaming a dazzling white on the sunlit bay.  This day, to the contrary, we had a load of snorkeling equipment in lieu of leaves and branches.

   Sandra was driving the sleigh when we, doing our best imitation of Mister Grinch and Max, passed Ka'ahumanu Place.  Our customary drop off area was suffering a double dip of pandemonium with the cruise ship crowd piled onto the mob associated with Christmas Eve in the Sandwich Islands.   We had anticipated this situation, and she dropped me off in front of the Marriott.

Ornate Hermit Crab Christmas 25

   Walking through the hotel on the way to the beach, I was admiring their Christmas tree when I ran smack dab into a black hole.  The Big Fish, an enormous world record Marlin, posed as if leaping against a thousand-pound test fishing line, was gone!  The Big Fish had been our family landmark for decades, as in, "I'll meet you at the Big Fish."  I was able to lasso an employee who said that the fish had been moved to the Royal Kona Resort.  No reason given.  We'll have to check it out.

   I made it through the hotel, which was almost deserted and out to the lagoon, which was an absolute mob scene.  Lucky for me, Kathy was right there in front of the Kona Boys shack.  Aside from my swim buddy, the first thig I noticed was that the water was really high, lapping at the sea wall.  As we donned our swimming attire, standing ankle deep in the high tide, I noticed to my surprise that the water was warm.  In the Inner Harbor the water is usually 75 degrees, maybe colder, but these lapping wavelets were possibly over 80 degrees.

    As we turned to go in, two teams of paddlers came ashore.  We stepped aside while they rolled their canoes into the yard, each on its large tired canoe dolly.  All part of the Christmas circus.  

     Once in the water, the madness receded and we were alone in the watery world.  Knowing that the little bay might be our best chance for a Christmas Wrasse, my head was on a swivel, but there were relatively few fish and no Christmas Wrasse.  We searched the area beside the heiau and both sides of the rip rap that forms the breakwater.  There were a few Koles, (Kathy's new found friends), looking back at us with their watery gold rimmed eyes, but no Christmas Wrasse.  

    As we crossed the little bay, heading for Paul Allen's lagoon, we ran across a couple stands of meandrina coral.    In the second I found a guard crab relatively out in the open, a cute little guy that was a yellowish orange.  I slipped aside so Kathy could get a look and by the time I returned he was gone.  No picture, hence, identification is impossible beyond saying that it was a guard crab.

The dependable Red Pencil Urchin, Christmas 25

    A few feet away I noticed a shell wedged among the branches of the coral.  I dove down about three feet and repositioned the shell with the aperture facing out.  Almost immediately I was rewarded with an emerging Ornate Hermit Crab.  It took a couple dives in the shallow moving water, but I finally snapped this picture, using the automatic flash and focus.  It is a long-standing maxim in photography that the flash stops the action.  Another maxim is that you ought to hold still while you take the picture.  With bobbing down and back up the three feet and the current moving me sideways, I was far from still.  So here is the best picture I got.  The flash startled the crab, so after that one effort he was back in hiding.

    These were the first crabs I had seen since our return, and I was much relieved to find them.  Despite my poor photographic efforts, these small animals are a magnificent addition to our local fauna.  In these days of climate change, with one species after another drizzling off the palette, one doesn't know, until he sees his long lost friend, just who might have disappeared forever. 

   We finished crossing the bay and scoured the area outside Paul Allen's Lagoon, another likely spot, without seeing a Christmas Wrasse.  Here I got a mediocre picture of a pair of teardrops to go along with my crabby effort.

Juvenile Christmas Wrasse like I saw.

    On the outside, along the wall that defends the Thurston Estate, we saw very little.  The tide was high enough that we were able to swim over the reef flat and back into the bay.  Once I saw a male shortnose wrasse in one of the depressions here.  And wouldn't that have been a fine Christmas present!  But wrasses, shortnose, five stripe and Christmas, were not to be found. 

    By the time we swam around the rip rap and were patrolling the edge of the heiau, I was working up my excuses and justifications, wondering if I could somehow squeeze a snorkel at Kahalu'u  into my Christmas Day obligations.  Se deep was my remorse that I took a picture of one of our best invertebrates, the Red Pencil Sea Urchin, that is nowhere better represented than in the entryway to the Inner Harbour.  

Its going to come together.

    Now here is an animal you can count on.  It's always there, and it holds still to get its picture taken.  All urchins should take a lesson from this fine fellow.  And fiddlesticks on the Christmas Wrasse.

    Just as suddenly, as I neared the inner corner of the heiau. a juvenile Christmas wrasse swam right in front of me.  I yelled, "Here it is!" into my snorkel and pointed as the little trout did a loop de loop around a rock and swam away.  A ten second look at five feet was more than good enough! 

   I turned to Kathy and asked if she had seen it.  "Oh yes!" she said.  "It was yellow!'

   Well, the little fish that I had seen was bluish, sort of like those characters that tormented Ringo and Paul in their Yellow Submarine adventure.  The submarine might have been yellow, but my little fish, and their Meanies, were blue.  

    Once we cleared the shallow water, my swim buddy and I had a discussion.  Clearly, we had seen different fish.  Kathy had done some due diligence (good for her) the previous evening and she knew what a Christmas wrasse looked like.  I noted that a Christmas Wrasse is usually checked red and green. to which she replied, those colors might have been present, but this fish was yellow.  We left it at that and darned if, trailing just a few feet behind me, she didn't see the same fish again on the way to shore.

Kathy... "This is exactly what I saw."   photo Waikiki Aquarium

   If anything, the circus in the vicinity of the Kona Boys shack was worse than when we embarked on our quest.  We got our showers and said our Merry Christmas Wrasse goodbyes. 

     This was a great week of snorkeling with Kathy, and it couldn't have ended any better.  I hope you had a wonderful Christmas with wrasses darting between the sugar plums (whatever they are) in your dreams.

    Mele kalikimaka, 

    jeff

Merry Christmas from Pepper-land!