The Hidden Hermit Crab Revealed or A Snorkel at Kahalu'u

    It only rained for a few hours yesterday, and with the surf coming down, it seemed like it might finally be time to return to the beach.  Seriously, with the tremendous rain and coincident run off (you figure it out) the beaches were deemed unsafe and those that the authorities' control were closed for five days.  Now that's a storm.

    We made it down to Kahalu'u on a beautiful morning, the sun shining brilliantly, a few fleecy clouds gracing the western horizon.  They might have been gracing the eastern horizon, as well, but then we would have been in Hilo. Wouldn't we?

Calcinus latens, the Hidden Hermit Crab

  Here on the leeward side (in the wake of the nasty Kona Low Storm, the K word has become verbum non grata) the water was cool and clear.  Presumably enough tidal exchanges had occurred to flush away the things we don't want to think about, and the fish were swimming gaily, as if nothing had happened.

   Even at eight AM, full contact snorkeling was in session.  After fighting off an exceptionally ardent competitor I reached the coral and immediately saw a shell clinging to the vertical wall about two feet down.  It wasn't a tiny shell, either, so I was full of hope as I plucked the coralline algae encrusted nugget from the wall.  It's hard to believe, but to that point I had not had a satisfactory hermit sighting in all these five months.  

   As I rolled the shell in my hand, I was elated to see a little fellow emerge.  He answered the bell like a regular pugilist, attempting to pinch me with his tiny claws.  Soon I had the camera at the ready.  Recently our friend Peter had alerted me to the little microscope on the selector wheel of the Olympus camera and to his success taking pictures of microscopic things.  

   So, what the hell. I selected the microscope and, as I floated in the modest current with just enough bumpy waves to make things interesting, vis a vis water in my windpipe, I attempted to photograph the little guy with this super close up feature.  All the while I was keeping us both afloat, breathing...all those good things.

   I was able to tell with my eyes, as opposed to looking at the camera, that this was one of our two crabs that have a constellation of white spots on the elbow of their chelipeds.  Do I sound like a carcinologist?  

     Both crabs are greenish but the tips of their walking legs are dramatically different.  As you can see, this fellow has purple and white socks with tiny black claw-like tips, greenish eye stalks with a white terminal band and blue eyes.  Those azure peepers must drive the lady crabs nuts.  this Romeo is Calcinus latens, the Hidden Hermit Crab.  

Hawaiian Cleaner Wrasse March 2026, Kahalu'u

    When you see that constellation of spots on the claws, there is a second possibility...Ca. guamensis.  The Guam Hermit Crab is not quite so green, its eye stocks are black tipped with a broad white band, its eyes are black with white speckles and its socks are a simple black stripe.   You may have guessed from the name that it is introduced.  From Guam!

     Thanks to these excellent pictures, I think we have the ID in hand.  Wasn't it lucky that God and St. Peter granted me the opportunity to take one more good hermit crab picture?

   After the hermit was replaced in his coral hideaway, I swam over near the breakwater.  There is a deteriorating chunk of coral that presents itself as valley with a pair of cleaner wrasse that have persisted for over a year.  On this day I got a picture of a cleaner that may suffice.

Crocodile Needlefish, Kahalu'u 2026

    Following that I swam out to the middle, where I saw my first Crocodile Needlefish for this trip.  I've seen bigger; these were only about 20 inches.  One of the duo was sufficiently brave to stay close for a picture.  That I had not seen one previously in the Year of the Horse may speak more to how infrequently I am snorkeling.  Or they may be becoming less common. 

   Ashore Sandra and I had a chance to visit with Kathleen and Haley.  We talked about our recent experience at Kawaihae.  They oohed and ahhred at my nudibranch pictures.  I forced them to look at the nice Ca. latens picture and Haley allowed that the hermit she sees at K Bay is the Cone Shell Hermit Crab.  I had not seen of these this year, despite turning over as many cone shells as I could.  

On the beach: Sandra and Haley

    Haley had recently photographed a Gold Lace Nudibranch at Kahalu'u.  I have only seen one and this is where I saw mine.  Mine was free swimming and I got a picture, but it was not nearly as good as Haley's, who was lucky to encounter the nudi on a rock.  She took my email address and promised to send along her excellent picture, which if she does, you'll get to see it.

    Good Haley, good nudibranch and goodbye from the land of sky blue waters.

jeff

Treat every wayward shell with an appropriate degree pf suspicion!

    

Kona Low Windstorm 2026 or "We thought you was a toad."

     This week climate change to the leeward side of the Big Island.  We here in Kona are protected from many of the wind and rain storms that ravage the Hilo side and much of Maui and Oahu, including Honolulu.  This week, however, the dear good Lord, who now wears the mantle of climate change, brought us into the picture. 

Jennifer Robbins says, "I told you it was coming."

 

     Recently we had some work done on the palm tree outside our kitchen window.  A monstera had grown up and up in such a way that 30 feet from the ground it was resting its leaves on our roof.  Well, you can't have that!  And so, we got our beloved gardener, Felix Henandez (no known relation to the Mariners former ace), to come and take care of those giant leaves.  He did a thorough job, removing about ten feet of monstera trunk from the palm tree.  His wife, Linda, and I carried about 300 pounds of trunks and leaves from down in the garden and up to the truck. 

Rhinella marina, the Cane Toad, enjoys the storm

    A week later came the first wave of the Kona low.  It was a wind storm from the south, sporting gusts in the 40 mph range.  As it turned out, Felix had destabilized the monstera in such a way that it dropped another 200 pounds of trunks and leaves, which the following morning I hauled up to our carport, cut to size and fitted into yard debris barrels.  

   That afternoon the real storm, the one Jennifer Robbins at KHNL had been threatening us with, roared in from the south.  Over a few hours we had 65 mph gusts and 7 inches of rain.  This combination was unprecedented.  Storms from the south are so rare that most people here leave their south facing windows open all the time.  We weren't the only ones who, while watching the rain blow sideways, suddenly realized that it was blowing through those windows into the house.  As soon as we realized what was going on, we got those windows closed wiki wiki.

    There was some sporadic flooding around Kona and the night club above the ABC store in the village had its roof blown off, but mostly we were OK.  By contrast, the people in Pahoa, the wild west town outside Hilo, just got their electricity back yesterday.  

Mr. Toad.  I remember him Horatio. An amphibian of charm and wit.

    It may seem like a trivial aside, but back in the lower 48 March is Spring Break.  Undoubtedly, there are scores of young families hunkered down, watching it rain, and muttering dire epithets against Pleasant Hawaiian Holidays.  

     And don't think the storm was an isolated bit of bad weather.  It has continued to rain, and all the beaches are closed for what is somewhat euphemistically called brown water.

    The following morning it was time to clean up.  We lost two palm trees (luckily, they didn't fall on the house.)  In the process of gathering leaves and fronds down in the garden, I spotted a toad sitting quietly under a succulent.  Because this is the dry side of the island, we don't see toads very often, so this was a real treat for me.  Yesterday, as I was sawing a fallen palm tree, I spotted the toad in exactly the same place.  Things were a bit more under control, so I hauled up a load of palm trunk and returned with the camera.  I hope you enjoy my pictures of Mr. Toad.  

    This is the Cane Toad, Rhinella marina.   Until recently it went by Bufo marinus, but the guys at the Journal of Toads and Newts, in an attempt to justify their phony baloney jobs, had to change the scientific name.  The Cane Toad was introduced to Oahu from Puerto Rico in 1932 in an attempt to provide a predator for a beetle that was attacking the sugar cane.  As it turned out, the toad was very successful and ate everything except the beetle.  It now supplies a charming garden presence on all the major islands.

If only it were that simple.

   In a similar manner, we acquired barn owls and mongooses.  And guess what...we still have rats!

   Personally, I think the toad is quite handsome and I wish we had more.  Pet owners, however, don't feel the same.  When endangered, the toad secretes a toxic substance from a gland behind the eye.  Bufotoxin is poisonous to cats, dogs and even humans that are stupid enough to handle the toad.  It can make you sick, cause seizures and even death.  Perhaps I should send one or two to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.  If I dress it up like a Russian supermodel perhaps my nemesis will give it a smooch and succumb.  If only it were that simple. (Sigh.)

   No article about toads, at least here at the Kona Beach Blog, will pass without a mention of Delbert, a charmingly simple fellow, with a penchant for robbing Piggly Wigglies.  In Oh Brother ,Where Art Thou, he memorably whispers to his friend Pete, "We thought you was a Toad."  They're in a movie theater in Mississippi, Pete has been reincarnated after vanishing at the hands of the Sirens, leaving a leopard frog hopping in his work shirt on the banks of a stream.  If you haven't seen O Brother..., I insist that you watch this movie right away.  

    And in the meantime, leave the toad kissing to the experts on Pennsylvania Avenue.

jeff

Snowflake Octocoral at Kawaihae Harbor

    This week Peter and Marla returned for a brief visit to Kona.  This afforded me a chance for some excellent snorkeling, if only Peter could fit me into his crowded dance card.  Yesterday morning, the four of us, and even more as it turned out, met at Kawaihae.

Note the gills on this Trembling Nudibranch

    It was a beautiful day, with just a bit of mist at the foot of Kohala mountain as we completed our drive to the harbor.  Tuesday was one of those odd tropical days, when there was very little tidal exchange; as we arrived the tide was low, about plus half a foot and it would stay that way for roughly eight hours.  

   Soon, Peter and I were finishing our preparations, and he noted that I wasn't wearing much in the way of lead, only two pounds compared to the eight that he was wearing.  This is the usual amount that I carry at Kahalu'u where the swimming is much different, with shallow rocks, currents and waves (so maybe I'm more concerned about drowning) than the situation at Kawaihae with still, deep water.  He was polite enough not to criticize me, leaving it up to me to experience the error of my ways on my own.

   As we entered beside the LST ramp, it was obvious that the water was not too cold and very cloudy.  Visibility was less than five feet.  We gave a gentleman who was fishing from the foot of the ramp a wide berth and we swam out to the first platform.  This is the smallest of the three that the army uses to moor the LST which brings some amazingly large, wheeled vehicles from Oahu for maneuvers at the Pohakuloa training base up on the Saddle Road .  A clump of branching coral that once housed a developing Klein's Butterflyfish was still there, with no baby butterflies, and little else.

Painted Nudibranch Kawaihae 2026

   We swam out to the second platform, bigger with many more pilings, but still with no significant finds.  And so, empty handed, we went to the third platform.  Halfway around the shady side I encountered a beautiful soft coral.  When I showed it to Peter, he said that this was likely an octocoral and it may be an invasive species.  Suffice it to say, I took plenty of pictures and we continued our perusals.  

   Simultaneously, we found nudibranchs on opposite ends of the platform.  I found a pretty trembling about eight feet down on one of the inside pillars.  I dove several times in this tight quarter to get a picture that while in focus, is still above the nudibranch.  

Radioles and pinnules, A closeup of a feather duster worm

    As an aside, I have been making a set of larger nudibranchs out of Anne Van Brunt's clay and while this picture is not perfect, it provides a really good look at the gills.  I had not noted the white base in the past and I'm going to have to go back and make tiny alterations to my model.  

   Extricating myself, I swam around to where Peter was working with his nudibranch which was thankfully still visible.  Peter had a Painted nudibranch which was now about four feet deep on the outer, sunny side of a corner pillar.  His nudibranch was small and dark.  Four feet is a difficult depth if you are not wearing enough weight.  If you are trying to flip and free dive, your fins aren't able to get a purchase in the water, and you bob right back to the surface.  If you are appropriately weighted, you can just sink down that short distance.  So that's my excuse for this mediocre picture.  On the bright side, it does illustrate how far forward the gills are on the slender body.  

Snowflake Octocoral. Kawaihae, March 2026

   I'm going to bet that Peter has an excellent picture of this nudibranch, so watch his blog, onebreathkohala, for his excellent pictures and insights.  

   There were at least three feather duster worms on display on these pilings ranging from eight to ten feet deep.  I commented that I could still remember how delighted I was to see my first feather duster and Peter noted that at the minimum they were very photogenic.  With that in mind you are going to be treated to a duster photo or two.

    The individual feathers are called radioles,  The tiny side branches that hold the feather together are called pinnules.  And these are covered with microscopic cilia that beat rhythmically, drawing food to the center of the crown.   More than you wanted to know about feather duster worms?

   The water near shore was impossibly cloudy and so we were soon showering off in what I maintain is the best shower, worldwide. A few feet from the glimmering Hawaiian ocean with a view of Mauna Kea not too far away, this is one spectacular location and the fresh water on a warm day is pretty delightful.  And the perfect place to clean my bleeding leg wounds...swimming around encrusted pilings is bound to inflict some damage!

The orange stalk is actually an encrusting sponge.

   Our friends,  Hai and Lottie and their daughters had arrived, and we visited for a few minutes before Sandra and I needed to dash off for our appointment in Waimea.  

   So what about that octocoral.  Back at the ranch, I reviewed the octocoral in Joh Hoover's critter book.  This piece was written in 1999 and, what with the warming of the oceans, things have changed.  Hoover lists a single species, Sarcothelia edmonsoni, and he notes, as we suspected, that octocoral derives its name from the eight tentacles that are borne by the polyps.  Other corals in Hawaii have six tentacles.

   At this point I repaired to Gemini AI.  Say what you will about the people at Google, but between Google lens and Gemini, they have provided the amateur naturalist with a couple of powerful tools with which to explore, identify and explain our world. 

    So let's scoot ahead to 2026 and see what Gemini has to say about our octocoral situation.

    The really big news is that there is now an exceedingly nefarious octocoral found mostly near Oahu.    This is Unomia stolonifera. Gemini writes, "This is an aggressive, fast growing soft coral that smothers native reefs and has no natural predators in Hawaii. It has already devastated native reefs in Venezuela.

   "It is pinkish white, and is known for its dancing, 'pulsing' motion of its polyps."

   Snowflake Coral, Carijoa riisei, is our established invasive...it's been in Kona for decades.  "It is particularly destructive below 75 meters, where it overgrows and kills Black Coral."  FYI Black Coral is the stuff from which jewelers fashion Hawaii's state gem.

     You will notice in my excellent pictures (you see, I do OK when I'm not bobbing up and down like a frickin cork) that the octocoral appears to have brownish orange stalks leading up to the tentacles.  This is a symbiotic red encrusting sponge, Desmapsamma anchorata.  The relationship makes both species more effective at taking over the reef.  The sponge produces a cytotoxin which defends the octocoral against predators and it strengthens the runners (stolons),  enabling the coral and the sponge to overwhelm the reef more effectively.

And the world will never be the same.

   Snowflake coral grows in diving depths, but is also known from snorkeling depths, especially in harbors where the piers with their pilings provide high water flow and dense shade.

    Voila. If you see an octocoral in Kona today, it is probably Snowflake Coral.  Like real snowflakes the coral tentacles are bright white.  Real snowflakes are reputed to be infinitely singular.  These polyps, on the other hand, dependably bear eight tentacles.  

   The world is changing, so enjoy it while you can,

jeff