Surf''s Up

    Last Friday, as Sandra conducted her morning ritual with the phone, reading the news and correspondence while sipping her morning coffee, she announced that her cousin Don in New Hampshire was warning us of a high surf alert.  Isn't it curious, we smirked, that someone on the other side of the

Bienvenue!  Sarah and Lucas at City of Refuge.

 country should tell us what the ocean is doing right outside our door?  From up here at Casa Ono the surf didn't look that bad, the surf predictor suggested moderately clement conditions and we had planned our first trip to the City of Refuge since the outbreak of dengue fever.  Besides that, we are moderately obstinate children, albeit rather old obstinate children. 

  Thus, around 10 AM we found ourselves donning our gear at the table by the bay, just across from the national park made famous by Samuel Langhorne Clemens.  At our table was a mother and her cheerful baby.  Greeting her, I perceived by her accent that she hailed from somewhere in Europe.  France,as it turned out.  Her name was Sarah and her eight month old was named Lucas.  Luc was the very vision of charm, waving, smiling and chewing on his mothers purse.

    As it turned out, Sarah did not currently live in Paris.  She is a nurse and her husband (who was out swimming in the bay as we spoke with the comely jeune mère) is a teacher.  And they teach in northern

 Saddleback Butterflyfish, Kahalu'u, January 2016

Quebec.  When she says north, baby she means north, like 1000 miles north of Montreal!  Up in the frozen wasteland they minister to a village of First Nations.  I related how my brother in law and his wife taught school in a snowed in Indian village in Alaska twenty years ago.  She was confused by the word Indians, which has apparently been entirely replaced by the appellation First Nations in French speaking Canada.

    As we were putting on  all our warm gear, I asked Sarah if she found the winter water here in Hawaii cold.  She replied that it was 40 below in her village and , no, the water here seemed pretty warm to her.

    After snapping a picture of Sarah and the charmant Luc, we made our way out to the two step entry.  There we encountered a surprising amount of surf.  In fact the water was enjoying a four foot excursion, just slopping onto the second step and then receding so that the rocks below were exposed.  I sat on the edge and put on my fins and then assisted a lady of about our age in her escape from the bounding sea.  Once safely on the hard, she was a non-stop litany, extolling the danger of getting in and out at that moment.

    As I am still here writing, you may infer that we walked away from our two step adventure.  Trudging head down  across the lava, Sandra recounted how many times she had walked away.  It's not many, two or

three times.  As we approached the table, we saw that Luc's father had successfully returned and that Sarah, mask in hand, was preparing to go down to the ocean.  She was wearing only a bikini and I could not help envisioning her milky skin all cut to tatters.  Quelle tristesse!   Sandra warned her of the danger, but after all, her husband had just  safely negotiated the entry and landing.  I can't say for sure what she did, but I'm pretty sure that she did not make the evening news. 

Threadfin Jack, courtesy of Bo Pardau.

   As we were loading our stuff in the car, the lady who had discouraged us from going in was exclaiming about a weird fish, like a Portuguese Man of War with long tentacles, she said.  Wondering why she waited until we were poised to leave to dispense with this tantalizing detail, we identified her fish for her as a threadfin jack, also known as the African pompano.  I am still longing to see one of those guys in the open ocean.  Sandra and I made our way back to Kahalu'u where, although it was low tide, conditions were not life threatening and we managed this picture of a pair of Saddleback Butterflies.

    Having been turned away by the raging sea, the following day we headed up to the Hilton at Waikoloa.  This afforded Schmoopie a chance to look in the Queen's Shops and for me to explore the lagoon at the

resort.  You may recall from previous blogs that this lagoon is a curious entity.  The management swears that

The lagoon at the Waikoloa Hilton.

they have never stalked it with fish.  Rather, fish are washed over the breakwater and then reside in the lagoon.  Just like a bird feeder, it is my position that this makes them fair game.  Of course, anyone would like to see their bird in its natural habitat, in the bush if you will, or his fish swimming in a less contrived situation. But I'm not giving back my immature sailfin tang, my threadfin jack, nor my longtail dragonet.  If serious bird watchers can sit, life list in hand, next to a line of hummingbird feeders in Patagonia, Arizona, I guess I can take mine to the lagoon at the Hilton Waikoloa, man made waterfall and all.

   So, leaving my beloved perusing the shops, I soon found myself on a recliner beneath a palapa in the soft white sand.  There was a young man in his mid-thirties at a nearby chaise who, snorkel mask in hand, had

Shortnose Wrasse, Kailua Kona Pier, Jan 26, 2016

just emerged from the man made wonder.  Being the friendly sort that I am, I asked him if he had seen anything good.  He replied that the lagoon was full of fish.  In fact, he averred that he had snorkeled all over the State of Hawaii and had never seen a greater variety of fish on a wild reef.  So there you have it.  At City of Refuge, one is obligated to brave the surf and the rocks.  At the Hilton Waikoloa he is pushed hard up against the rubber-nosed geeks.  

    With this encouragement, I grabbed my gear and waded out into the cold, turbid water. While I was putting on my fins, a stately lady of a certain age waded nearby.  She helpfully nabbed one of the pads I use to cushion my aging feet inside the flippers.  As she returned it to me, I muttered something about old, deformed feet.  She tilted her head just so, a pose accentuated by her wide brimmed, lilac sun hat, and asked, "What ever happened to the supermen  we once were?"

     Visibility in the lagoon ranged from two to six feet and the water, except in the channel, was mercilessly shallow.  Never the less, your sometimes superman made his way around, dodging paddle boats and the

Cushion Star  Culcita novaeguineae

wading wealthy.  The most curious thing of this veritable panoply of marine life (not) was the abundance of lagoon triggerfish.  In the half hour or so braving these raging waters, I would guess that I saw forty individuals.  The lagoon is not the rarest of fish, but I don't see one every time out.  

    Sadly, I didn't see too much else of note until it was almost about time to get out and meet another, even more glamorous lady. Just then, over by the pen in which the management incarcerates a couple of reef sharks, three Island Jacks sped by.  I didn't have time to take a picture, but there was no mistaking the constellation of mustard colored spots on their flanks. According to my list, I saw this species in 2014, but I had not seen the island jack in well over a year, so our venture into the black lagoon did yield one worthy fish for the list.

   While the waves continued to crash, Sunday was devoted to football on TV and Monday to the completion of a building project on the house.  All of which brings us to yesterday.  That Tuesday had been

Potter's Angelfish  Kailua Pier January 2016

earmarked for Sandra's book club, during which I was to go snorkeling at the pier.  With the waves thundering in, snorkeling didn't seem too likely.  So I dressed in a swim suit more appropriate for playing in the waves and left the camera at home. 

    On the off hand chance that the water around the pier was protected, I threw my mask and fins in the trunk.   Sure enough, although waves were crashing on Paul Allen's Reef, the water on the Ironman side of the pier was flat.

    It was a cool day with sprinkles of rain and there was only one other person on the small beach as I got in.  The water was actually only moderately cloudy and I rued the absence of the camera.  Right away I saw the blacklip butterfly, but didn't see anything else of interest as I swam out to in front of the palace.

   Ever since our ill founded trip to City, I had been thinking about the threadfin jacks.  Two years ago, when I was swimming at the pier with a friend, two fellows in complete dive gear and bearing huge SLR cameras,

Potter's angelfish, Kailua Kona Jan 2016, 10ft

claimed to have seen a couple of the pompanos on the far side of the swim buoys.  With this in mind, and as there was no boat traffic on this rough day, I decided to swim back over the sand and reef in the middle of the bay.   A couple yards in from the first orange mooring buoy I was lucky to spot a shortnose wrasse.   It took me many years to see this fish, probably not because it is extremely rare, but more because it is small and one has to be keyed in to the subtle differences in silhouette between the shortnose and other similar wrasses.  This fish was in ten feet of slightly turbid water; had I not recognized the shape, I never would have investigated it.  He was a nice little fish more than three inches in length and allowed me several close approaches.  At this point I was kicking myself for leaving the camera at home.


   Finally tiring of the shortnose, I swam straight in to the pier.  There, nestled on the reef about three yards from the pier, I saw my second or third cushion starfish in Hawaii.  And I have a vague recollection of seeing

one somewhere else, like the Caribbean or Western Mexico. Suffice it to say, this was a major find for me.  About five inches across and two high, he was only three feet down, sort of tucked into a corner created by

Hi

two adjoining corals.  What a gorgeous animal he was!  Purple on top, at his base where he met the substrate he had a rim of orange papillae in different shades.  These rose to create an elipse at each corner of the star.  So decorative were these that they reminded me of the mihrab in the Great Mosque of Cordoba.

Obviously, this cushion star represented a religious experience.  I observed it for several minutes, wishing I had the camera.  finally deciding ot leave, I saw a single young lady standing knee deep on the beach.  and I thought to myself, "Well, if you can't photograph it, perhaps you can share it."

    What incredible good fortune.  The young lady was extremely well spoken with a Scandinavian accent and she exuded that aura of happy enthusiasm that one always hopes to find.  Her name was Emily and she was not from Sweden, but from Minnesota.   She and her husband, Rob, who was just swimming in to shore, were

 hoping to move to Hawaii and they were happy to swim out and look at the cushion starfish with me.  The three of us enjoyed the star for a couple minutes and then said goodbye on the beach.  I talked about starfish anatomy, Rob talked about training himself to breathe on the opposite side while swimming long distances and Emily stood there just being sublime.  I still didn't have a camera so there is no picture of Emily and Rob.  Take my word for it,  they were a handsome couple of thirty somethings dressed for serious swimming.

   Sandra and I reconnoitered at Casa Ono.  I told her about the starfish and talked her into an afternoon swim.  Around two we were back at the pier, slipping into the cool water.  having carefully noted the position of the cushion star, I swam right to it.  Sandra loved it as much as I did.

   After nabbing a brace of photographs it was off to find the shortnose wrasse.  Although fish tend to move around more than sea stars, its been my experience that the shortnose wrasse tends to stay put for days at a time.  Due to his proximity to the mooring buoy, I was able to swim to my spot and start the hunt.  Nothing

Adapting life to art.  The Starfish Becomes a Mihrab.

 appeared for several minutes and it is a credit to Sandra's interest in the sport that we did not swim away.  This was lucky, for while we were searching for the shortnose, what should appear but a single gorgeous Potter's Angelfish.  Dealing with a treasured species in ten feet of water, I did my best work, diving repeatedly and holding on to the bottom.  The five inch angelfish was elusive, but  multiple attempts paid off with my best pictures of Potter's angelfish. 

     About half way through the angelfish effort the shortnose wrasse made his appearance, creating the opportunity for several more deep dives.  Finally, we got one acceptable picture of him.  Not only that, but while chasing the shortnose across the deep bottom,  I spotted a fine devil scorpionfish and we got his photo as well.

   At this juncture, I have to give a shout out to my mentor Bob Hillis, who in his unassuming way got me diving deeper and for longer duration.  Without Bob's tutelage, we would not have these pictures.  And thanks to Sara and Luc, Emily and Rob, that parvenu on the beach at the Waikoloa  and, of course, the Redoubtable SKG for making this longwinded blog possible.  Sandra is the real Sea Star!

See a fish for me,
jeff
    
















 

Winter at Casa Ono

    I believe that here in Kona we enjoy a monsoon climate.  It has certainly been that this year.    We suffered through a brutally hot wet season that ended in November.  As a result of the large amount of rain,

Honey Bees in the Palm Inflorescence

many things bloomed that we had never seen blooming before.  One would stop in their tracks and say, "So that's what that tree looks like when it blooms."

    For the past month, starting a week or so before Christmas, we have been enjoying a cool dry season.  Neither Sandra nor I can remember the last time it rained... at least three weeks ago.  Every morning I'm out before 7 AM, watering and pruning.  With selective watering, the weeds have essentially died away.  But as you can see from the pictures, we are still enjoying some lovely flowers through the winter.

   Yesterday I went outside and it was a beautiful morning.  One of our palm trees had an infloresence that was full of honey bees.  The dengue fever epidemic is ongoing and a month ago the state was spraying for mosquitoes.  Obviously there is no such thing as an insecticide specific for mosquitoes and,

Tigridia blossom taken with the macro

as a consequence,up until a couple weeks ago we were seeing lots of dying honey bees.  With the dry weather, they must be doing less spraying, hence our tree full of healthy bees.  What a treat!

    Below the palm trees and the avocado, our tigridia plants had gone crazy; there must have been a dozen fabulous blossoms.  As you can see, this flower, which we believe to be a variety of South American iris, is really fancy.  Usually we get only one or two on a given day.  The blossoms last only a single day, so if you are not out in the garden that day yu miss out.

  The avocado and mango are blooming along with the giant heliconia.  There is a variety of begonia that grows on a tall bamboo-like stalk, which lives behind the heliconia and it continues to throw out its pretty pink blossoms. 

Begonia on a Tall stalk.  This one is bent over.

   I love color and so I have planted bougainvillea here and there.  For an encore I'm showing you some that I have growing with the passion fruit on the arbor.

   Hope your day is colorful and full of joy.

jeff

Giant Heliconia

Bougainvillea Growing in the Lilikoi

Ganesha Thanks You for Looking at Our Garden

Things Are Evolving

   Yesterday was a gorgeous day here in Kailua Kona.  At 10 in the morning it was in the upper seventies with a charming breeze.  As we made our way down to Alii Drive, I noticed a number of buoys and what

A High School Paddling Team on a Gorgeous Day

 looked like a race committee boat at the far end of the pier.  The general absence of a crowd, not to mention the ease with which we had parked, lead me to comment, "I wonder if there is going to be a regatta tomorrow?"  A lady passing us at a good clip said, "There's a regatta right now."  to which I replied, to her receding derriere, "It must not be much of a regatta, or we wouldn't have been able to park."

   I think I saw her nod, but my attention was drawn across the street where a paddling team, of about twenty high school age boys and girls in matching blue T shirts, was going for a run up the street.  Garments below the waist were up to the discretion of the athlete, as was footwear; most of the paddlers were running in bare feet, while a few pantywaists were running the pavement in flip flops.  I was reminded of sending the soccer team off for a run, but, of course, the lads were all wearing sport appropriate boots.  Not to mention that the golden bodies

Adolescent Blacklip Butterfly, Dec. 10, 2015

that pranced by looked nothing like those found on the pitches of Oregon.

   I could dwell at some length on the differences in physiognomy between a 17 year old girl soccer player and her Polynesian paddling counterpart, but then Captain Priapism, who lives next door, would call the thought police and that would be it for the the old blogmeister.   Let us say that one might title such a blog, "Beauty and the Beast".  I leave it up to you and your vivid imagination to correctly assign the roles.

    As it turned out, it was a dual meet, with only two crews on the water at any one time.  Hence, the area around the kiosk was only lightly employed.  As we were donning our neoprene, who should happen by but our friend Marilyn from Alii Villas.  After appropriate greetings were exchanged, she averred that it was cloudy today (meaning the water, of course.)  I asked her if she had seen the blacklip butterfly, knowing full

Mature Blacklip Butterfly, January 16, 2016

 well that she is one of the "All the Pretty Fishes" school of snorkelers.   Although she wouldn't know a blacklip butterly from a black-headed grosbeak, one still has to give Marilyn credit.  As she had hip surgery a few years ago and is therefore unable to safely put on flippers for fear of a dislocation, she still gets down to the pier to enjoy the fish.

    As I was telling her that the blacklip butterfly could be found right in the shallows where she paddles, a young man (which is to say he was under forty) asked if there were any sharks here.  He proceeded to describe the small school of milkfish and I was happy to fill in some gaps and put a name on his find.  What joy to be the yoda of the fish.  Following this mini-dissertation, which Sandra bore stoically, we headed down to the water.

   This January the water is not quite as cold as one might expect.  And contrary to our friend's admonition, it was well on the clear side of diluted milk.  Such was the clarity in the shallows that I was able to nab a

picture of the blacklip butterfly, which has now persisted, as I prognosticated back in December, in the very

I'm a Crab of Constant Sorrow

same spot for over a month.  Not only that, but in my prescience, I have taken a picture of this unusual fish each time I have seen it and now have a series of photographs detailing the development of C. kleinii from adolescent to mature.

    I am sorely tempted to call this fish a waif.  It is living in a space whee none of its ilk are ever seen. Clearly the egg moved by current from another area, most likely somewhere else on this island, but almost certainly from below snorkeling depth.  I ask you, was little Orphan Annie less of a waif for being born in New York, not far from the home for foundling girls?  Was Daddy Warbucks a Democrat?

   Our experience with waifs is elegantly spelled out in The Ballad of Jeff and Sandra, recorded by Ulysses Everett McGill and the Soggy Bottom Boys. (I hope you received a copy of the CD in your Christmas stocking.)  The ballad recounts our experience with a tiny white crab, a humongous jellyfish and, notably, the

Immature hawkfish, P. forsteri,  in recovering coral.

Notorious PID.  Everyone agreed that our Phoenix Island Damsel was a waif, and no one thought the egg came from Phoenix Island.  In fact, the water-borne egg probably came from Maui.  Possibly it came from a nest on (shudder) this very volcanic isle.  Sandra and I were lucky to find the first one, who lived by himself in the Valley of the Sun, a depression on the wave swept reef in front of Alii Villas, for over a year and a half.  Many fish watchers, including the Great Oz, himself, came to see and bask in the glow of his waifliness.  A handsome photograph of the Notorious PID may be found on page 80 of the Ultimate Guide to Hawaiian Reef Fishes.

     All blathering aside, I think this blacklip qualifies as a waif and I hope you enjoy the pictures showing his development.

    Swimming out, we  saw lots of fish but nothing dramatic.  Way out by the last swim buoy, which corresponded with the five colorful buoys marking the finish line for the dual meet,  I spotted a handsome

 adult ornate wrasse in about ten feet.  I dove down to get his picture, but by the time my camera and I got 

An Ornate Wrasse that didn't get away.   Ho'okena 2012

to the bottom, the ornate wrasse was long gone Luckily, nearby was an immature freckle-faced hawkfish, This green capped fellow was perched on a piece of recovering cauliflower coral.  As you can see, what a few months ago (back when Freckle junior was just a flicker in his daddy's fin) would have looked like a bleached coral of incipient death, is now greatly recovered.   There was no reason for any of us, from mere novice to professor of invertebrate zoology, to know that so much of the coral would recover.  The evolution of the over heated and bleached coral is an ongoing experiment right here in Kailua Bay.  Those of us who gather around the swimming cubby and take notice of such things are greatly heartened by this partial recovery.

     On the way in I stalled to point at a stocky hawkfish.  As I surfaced a ladylike voice behind me asked, "What are you pointing at?"

You don't want to mess with this waif.

     "A stocky hawkfish."  I replied after pulling the snorkel from my mouth.  Turning a bit I saw Sandra  swimming five yards away.  Turning a bit more, I continued, "You're not my wife."

   The lady could have said, "Thank God for that!"  But instead she said, " I was hoping you had an octopus."
  
  To quote the Wyoming sheriff cum philosopher Walt Longmire, Boy Howdy.  I guess that I,too, was hoping it was an octopus.  But things are evolving and it was still a  great day a the beach.

jeff

Its Christmas in Kailua, With All of the Fish At Home

   Christmas Eve came to Kailua this year as gentle as a lamb.  The weather was not too hot or humid and,

Can the Green Flash Be Far Away?

 although many of our friends and family are scattered around the lower 48, we still had a very special evening of companionship.

     Sandra and I met our friends Ross and Donna down at Alii Villas. We participated in the nightly Alii  Villas sunset ceremony.   There were no whales this evening, but I was lucky to catch a sailboat as it cruised beneath the setting sun.  I was even luckier to catch two aspiring super-models in their Christmas finery.  To make the evening complete, we all were treated to a green flash.   Très Hawaiian!

    As the light crept from the Hawaiian sky we made our way back up past the condos, many of the balconies were decorated for the season.  Our friend Sandy came out

Super Models: Donna and Sandra on Christmas Eve 2015

and danced on her lanai with here life size singing Santa,  It made for quite a show, but heaven only knows where Saint Nick is going to live the remainder of the year in a tiny condo.   Perhaps she will perch him in the corner and give him a Mai Tai. 

    Soon we left our friends behind for the lights of village and the Christmas eve service at the church.  We arrived in Kailua about half an hour early for service, so Sandra and I wandered around taking pictures of the lights. The village is beautiful every night of the year, a few Christmas touches make it even more so.

   Last Christmas Eve, while we were waiting in line to get into the church, I had serendipitously discovered that one need not belong to the Moku'aikua church (the oldest church in Hawaii) to sing in their caroling  choir.  The choir congregates

Christmas Eve in Kailua  2015

on the lawn outside the church and sings our favorite carols as the parishioners enter for the service.  The previous year I had sort of walked around the front wall, through the parking area and edged my way in, joining a dozen of what I assumed were the regulation church choir.  This year, as the choir started to sing, many more people joined in.  Soon we were two dozen willing voices greeting the faithful and the birth of our lord.  O Come All Ye Faithful, indeed.

    If anything, this year the singing was even better.  The highlight came when we sang Silent Night.  A gentleman songster behind me suggested that we sing the well known verse in German, enough of us agreed and it was included as the last stanza to

Stille Nacht! Heilige Nacht!  Alles Schläft; Einsam Wacht.

this Weihnachtszeit classic.  The first verse was sung in Hawaiian...even knowing the melody did not permit me to fit all the written syllables into the song.  The German verse was not so disadvantaged, as it was not in the song book.  We all sang our hearts out and it was ausgezeichnet, if I do say so myself.

   About 4 AM, while visions of sugarplums danced in the head of my slumbering sweetie, it started to rain.  In fact, it rained pretty hard for about three hours.  This was unexpected, as it had not rained for about two weeks.  And it put a new twist in our Christmas tradition, the hunt for the Christmas wrasse.

    In general, we don't swim the day after a first rain, as it seems a bit unsanitary.  Not only that, rain water percolates through the lava and makes the bay cold.  With all this in mind, Sandra was given permission to opt out of the search for the Christmas wrasse on Christmas Day.  To

The Christmas Wrasse by the Rescue Kiosk  Kahalu'u, December 25, 2015

combat the cold, I cut up one of her old wet suits and made myself a bit of a snorkeling vest.  In deference to your sensibilities, I am not including a picture of myself in this erzatz vest, which I wore beneath my swim shirt. I would like to note at this juncture that all the pictures included in this blog, with the exception of my classic and enhanced picture of the palace with the church behind, were taken on this very day.  No file pictures, or (shudder) pirated pictures, in the Christmas Eve blog.

     Down at Kahalu'u a group of locals were setting up for a Christmas morning party.  While this was no surprise, we were relegated to a rain spattered outer table under a cloudy sky to don our gay, er, snorkeling, apparel.  Soon your faithful Tyro was afloat, his new vest buoying him up.  Flouting my usual strategy (to head out towards the Menehune Breakwater), I swam to the right, over by the rescue

Male Pearl Wrasse by the Rescue Kiosk 2015

kiosk.  While the water there is always less clear there, experience suggested that this area would provide the best chance for a Christmas wrasse.

    As the sun broke free above Hualalai, the Gods of Old Hawaii smiled upon us.  Over a lava outcrop, in about a foot of water, was a young Christmas wrasse.  He was small, but already bore the adult markings.  Driven along by a helpful eddy, I chased him over the reef taking a score of pictures.  Frequently I was in water less than a foot deep, but riding the current, I was able to stay flat and enjoy the chase.  Mostly I got pictures of the wrasse swimming away, but luckily he turned a couple times, looking back as if to say, "Oh.  Are you still there?"  Which I was, until he dodged around the reef, never to be seen again.

     So how lucky was this?  We had found our Christmas wrasse not fifteen minutes into the swim.  It seemed wrong to abort the swim so early and the water really wasn't all that cold.  With that in mind, I pushed on.  Immediately I saw a Star (of  Bethlehem) eyed

Juvenile Surge Wrasse near the exit, K Bay Christmas 2015

 Parrotfish.  Like the Christmas Star for which he may or may not be named, this old brute guided me, in very short order, over field and fountain, moor and mountain to a male Pearl Wrasse.  (I suppose if you read a Christmas Blog, you have to expect some schmaltzy Yuletide lyrics.)  In any event, the Pearl Wrasse was in a patch of clearer water and we nabbed the picture you see here. 

    I proceeded counter clockwise out to Surfer's Rock and then turned for home.  I saw nothing of much interest until I made it almost all the way in.  There, I saw a very young Surge Wrasse.  First cousin to the Christmas wrasse, we see the juvenile surge less commonly and the adult surge wrasse only rarely.  These are fast moving fish, always a challenge to photograph.  I took lots of pictures, but still felt lucky to get one usable photo. While I watched, this dark young trout captured a small urchin. He proceeded to bash the urchin against a rock and then chomped him down.  Do you ever wonder how the wrasses digest those spines?  I guess the urchin was a bit like the crunchy almond roca you might hope to find in your Christmas stocking. What a great foil to the Christmas wrasse, not to mention a fine conclusion to our Christmas snorkel.

    As I conclude this Christmas blog, I'm going to leave you with lyrics to my own version of Little Town of Bethlehem, which I confess to singing soto voce along with the Moku'aikua choir.

O little town Kailuaville, how still we see thee rise,

Upon thy deep and dreamless reef, the silent fish swim by.

How Brave On Christmas Day!

Yet in the dark depths shineth, the phosphorescent light.

The sharks and rays who sleep by day, will swim with us tonight.

The Keiki dream of sugar cane, while Maui seeks the sun.

Please save the fish and grant this wish:

God bless us everyone.

O little town Kailuaville, how brave on Christmas Day.

While pilgrims pray and palm trees sway, the dolphins swim the bay.

Yet ‘neath your shining waters, the Christmas wrasse doth dwell.

His brilliant colors herald in Our Lord, Emmanuel.

May the Christmas Season find you happy and safe with good friends and family,

jeff 

A Night Snorkel at Kahalu'u

    Our friends Bob and Kim Hillis are leaving the island at the end of the week, moving to the mountains of  Arizona far away from the ocean.  With that in mind, Bob has been running down a last minute wishlist,

K Bay was as dark as a cow's tuckus on a moonless night.

doing some things that he had hoped to do on the island and saying goodbye, after a fashion, to some of his favorite places and activities.  Upon his list was a night snorkel at K Bay with your humble correspondent.  I was flattered to be on his short list, and so earlier this week we made it happen.

    Somehow I was reminded of a little story by Thomas Mann:  Antonio Krüger verliß seinen heim und bekundet kein grossen schmertz dabei.   Antonio is leaving home and goes around saying goodbye to all things familiar, but doesn't feel any pain.

 I dropped Sandra off at the sometimes Chateau Hillis, where she and Kim sat around with a dram of Gilbey's while Bob and I motored down to K Bay.  When we got there it was just about as dark as a cow's tuckus on a moonless night (courtesy of The Stranger in The Big Lebowski).  The lights in the parking lot had not yet come on, according to a friend we
met in the lot, they are timed according to sunset in the summer.  The only lights available emanated from the restrooms and with that bit of lost light we made it to a table in the shelter.

Short Arm Sand Octopus thanks to  dmcleish.com

    Before we could get changed and into the bay, we were accosted by an attractive twenty something who had misplaced her cell phone in the dark.  Bob, the sometimes Don Quixote of Kailua Kona, sprang to her aid with his dive light.  this failing, he ran back to the car for his cell so they could call her phone which, she being a damsel, was buried deep in her picnic basket. 

   Problem solved, we left the sweet young thing and her keiki to their barbecue in the dark and made our way into the chilly water of K Bay.  On this night snorkel, I had chosen not to bring my camera.  a multitude of reasons framed this decision.  First, it is difficult for an old trout like myself to swim with a flashlight in one hand and operate a camera with the other.  Additionally, we had seen little on our previous night snorkels to push me in the direction of repeated near drowning experiences. And lastly, my attempts at photography on those occasions had been, well,  miserable.  Luckily, as it turned out,

Kellogg's Scorpionfish  photo Bob Hillis

Bob brought his camera along and although my photo processor hates his camera with a passion, I have managed over a few hours to render a few of his pictures acceptable for the blog.

   We had been out in the bay for only a few minutes when I saw Bob stalled by the shore.  He had found a very small octopus.  The head was about as big as one of those tiny tangerines that they sell at Costco.  At times the tentacles were drawn up under the body, while at others they dangled below, they appeared about as long as my fingers.  Bob dove down and took a couple pictures while I illuminated the critter with my light.

   Although this technique would yield a few good images later on, he did not get an acceptable picture of this fascinating animal.  Aside from it being cute as, and only slightly larger than, a bug, the octopus was remarkable in one other respect: it did not flee.  We watched it for several minutes and at extremely close range.  Bob dove twice for

Peppered Squirrelfish, S. punctatissimum  December 2015

 pictures that were  taken at about 18 inches.  John Hoover suggests that this is the short arm sand octopus.  I'm including a picture from the internet, with thanks to dmcleish.   Bob was concerned that  because of the way this animal changed color and textures, he might have been a very small day octopus.  I'm giving you a link to a page from D. McLeish which shows the short arm sand octopus doing all the things that we witnessed.  It was a very cool experience with an animal I doubt I wlll see again.  .http://dmcleish.com/Maui2013/Short-arm-Octopus/index.html

    We had been away from the octopus for only a short while when I spotted a small scorpionfish sitting on a rock in the shallows.  By virtue of being atop the rock, he was only two feet below the surface.  This fellow was equally patient and here you see Bob's picture with my processing.  I'm calling this fish Kellogg's

Banded Coral Shrimp, Kahalu'u, December 2015

Scorpionfish.  Sadly for me, I have seen this species one time previously, during the day, in essentially the same spot, the larger stones just outside the entrance at Kahalu'u. On that occasion he sheltered at the bottom of a rock, but I was able to dive down and get an excellent picture which is very similar to this one.

    We saw the expected cardinalfish (bandfin and irridescent) and spotfin soldierfish, which we see by day, and peppered squirrelfish, which is primarily nocturnal.  I found a cracker jack undulated moray with his handsome gold head threatening us from beneath a coral.

    As we swam along we got some excellent looks at a variety of shrimp, which are difficult to photograph and identify.  This was different from our previous night snorkels where the shrimp were much more difficult to see.  My guess is that we saw four species well, but it is difficult to put a name on them.  The exception was a handsome banded coral shrimp, only about 4 cm from claw to claw.

   Luckily as we looked at the various shrimps, the lights came on in the parking lot.  It was much easier to find our way in with those lights to guide us.  Ashore,  we were greeted by

Henderson's Hingebeak Shrimp Kahalu'u December 2015

several families of islanders who had come to the shelter to enjoy the evening.  One clever fellow knew how to turn on a couple lights.  Switches were located on the posts...what a surprise.  On a our previous night snorkel at Kahalu'u,  many fluorescent lights were on, but that was not the case this evening.  At any rate, we were able to enjoy all the children racing around inside the shelter and find our car, in the now well illuminated parking lot.

   Back at Chateau Hillis there was plenty of schmerz to go around. We bid farewell to our friends and I bundled Sandra into the Honda for the sad trip up the hill.  Fair winds and good fish, amigos.


jeff

Klein's and Regal at the Pier

   You may have noticed that the blog has been on a bit of a short holiday.  Well, the hiatus wasn't exactly a walk on the beach.  Somehow or other your doughty correspondent ended up with a a sore back.  This was sufficiently severe to keep me out of the water for more than a week.

The Kailua Pinktail Trigger

    During this time I worked on a small school of paper mache fish ornaments for the Christmas tree.  My finished product is better than it was two years ago, but I doubt that my fish are ready to be sold down on Alii Drive.   Perhaps if some generous vendor gave me a corner of a booth at the pre-Christmas stroll, I could pass the work off as being done by school children and donate the proceeds to one of the local educational institutions.  But then what would we put on our
tree?  Rhetoric aside, I'm including here my holiday masterpiece for this year, an anatomically questionable pink tail triggerfish with the Kailua malecon rendered on her flank.

    A few days ago I finally got back in the water.  Sandra was kind enough to drop Bob and I off at the pier.  She went grocery shopping at the KTA while we went for a swim on the Ironman side.  Going out, we didn't see much.  While I was dawdling a short distance

Day Octopus  Photo Bob Hillis

  away, Bob got a look at an octopus about twelve feet down.  The handsome fellow obliged him with this excellent picture. Of course, he was long gone by the time I made it out to the fourth swim buoy.  As octopi are somewhat territorial,  I'm going to give that area a good look for the next few weeks.

     One word about the photo.  Most photographers who expound on underwater photography emphasize that processing your pictures is a significant part of the art.  My processor, a version of Ulead dating back about ten years, despises the photographs that I receive from Bob's Olynpus.  This is surprising, as his camera and the one I currently use are closely related.  Unable to fiddle with the picture on the computer, I downloaded it on my Samsung 4

The Blacklip Butterflyfish,  C. kleinii, December 2015

phone.  There is a cracker jack app called photo (what a surprise) that allows processing.  It gives you the option of a variety of balances and permits a change in contrast, which it refers to as pop.  Having used that trendy photo processor to get the picture I wanted, I then emailed it to the computer and, voila!, Here you are.  The new picture is still pretty much rejected by the aging Ulead and I'm left wondering, after all the travel through the email and the phone, "How do it know?"


    But I digress.  

    Just as I reached the exit, I was treated to a most excellent fish; flitting about in the rocks just off the sand was an incredibly handsome adolescent Klein's Butterflyfish.   Although he was in constant motion he was extremely approachable.  The combination of clear shallow water and dazzling sunshine made for a spectacular photographic opportunity.  I hope you will agree that we made the most of it.

Regal Parrotfish Immature showing tail crescent

  About twenty five years ago, my boys showed me a Klein's (aka blacklip) butterflyfish at Kahalu'u on a calm day out by the Menehune breakwater.  Shortly thereafter, they
found a citron (aka speckled) in the same general location.  Suffice it to say, they have been good little fishwatchers from an early age.  So impressed was I with these two finds that I named this area Butterflyfish Flats.   Among my myriad of fish related documents, there still exist maps of K Bay, rendered by my hand, with that name denoting the shallows by the Menehune Breakwater. Sadly, it has not proved to be a dependable spot for unusual butterflyfish.

Regal Parrotfish Immature showing vertical bands

  Since those germinal sightings, lost in the shadows of time, I have seen Citron occasionally in Hawaii and in several locations: the pier, the Dog Beach and bay near the Hyatt all come to mind.  On the other hand, although Sandra and I saw blacklip butterfly in Bali, where it is not at all uncommon in Lipah Bay.  But it wasn't until this year that I saw another here in Hawaii, with Peter and Marie up at Mahukona.  I have seen blacklip both times I have returned to that charming little bay.  However, it has always been a shy fish, invariably swimming away from the camera.

   Bob Hillis says that like the Milletseed, Klein's butterflyfish is not uncommon at diving depths.  I wouldn't know.  Seeing one so close and shallow, with such perfect lighting was an early Christmas gift. 

    Sandra and I returned to the pier yesterday.  As I had hoped, the Klein's butterflyfish was right where we left him, in the shallows by the first rocks, halfway between the first swim buoy and the sea wall.   Even more than octopi, an unusual butterflyfish will stay in a spot for quite a while.  With any luck, this handsome fellow will remain in the shallows by the pier through the Christmas holiday.

    Sandra had eschewed her wet suit, so we swam at a brisk (the operative word for the water temperature) clip out to the last swim buoy.  We had been in the water for only fifteen minutes, but sweetie was already

Male Regal Parrotfish showing pale vertical stripe

chilled.  While this may answer the question, "How is Sandra like a fine white wine?" (they are both chilled), she was having none of it and headed back to the beach. 

   I tooled around for awhile, looking to no avail for Bob's octopus.  As I made a general search, I was pleased to see an initial phase  regal parrotfish.  With the accompanying photos to help, you may recall that the immature regal is a light beige (ecru to the sartorially inclined) with a series of darker vertical stripes.  In fact, it is not a visually attractive fish and one might easily overlook it if not for the pale crescent on the rounded tail.

    Our hero, John Hoover, lets you know right off the bat that parrotfish are difficult to identify.  Their coloration is frequently variable and often not very interesting.  I have found the shape and coloration of the

Regal Parrotfish male,  Scarus dubius, Kailua Pier December 2015

tail to be a valuable tool when identifying parrots. The terminal crescent is found on the tail of most stages of regal parrotfish.  Only in the male (the final stage of parrotfish development) does the regal tail gain the handsome violet streamers. 

   Shortly after I lost the chase with that shy fish, another unusual parrotfish appeared.  I had not seen this fish before, suspecting that it was a new iteration of the regal, but not ruling out something new for the Hawaii list.  I chased it into the turbid water by the seawall, where it slowed down for a couple pictures.  In the first, you will note the distinct pale stripe on the flank.  Over less than a minute the pale patch, which had me

Merry Christmas 2015

wondering if this was a new species for my Hawaii list, darkened.  As you can see in the second picture, this is a fairly typical variant of the regal parrotfish male, replete with violet streamers.  This was still a good find, being the fist regal male I have seen at the pier.  Obviously, the turbid water did not improve the pictures of the male regal parrotfish, but I hope you enjoy them if only as a lesson in the perfidy of parrotfish.

   Soon I was back at the pier where Sandra waited for me, wrapped up in her towel to keep warm.  Over the past couple of weeks, we have been enjoying utterly delicious weather here on the leeward side of the Big Island.  I fear that if you are reading the blog from anywhere else on the surface of this emerald orb, your weather has not been quite as good.  So in closing I will send you some Kona sunshine and a warm tropical breeze.

jeff

    
   

A Thanksgiving Story 2015

   We got up bright and early on Thanksgiving morning.  There was no watering to be done, as it had rained for the second night in a row, so at least the mosquitoes were happy.  Our friends the Hillises were coming

Black Durgon with electric blue lines.

for Thanksgiving dinner, so Sandra and Kim stayed home in their respective kitchens preparing the meal while Bob and I slunk off to Kahalu'u for a bit of fish watching.  On the way down the hill the DJ at B93 promised to play Alice's Restaurant at 9 AM.  Many families associate that classic American ballad with Thanksgiving and incorporate it as part of their holiday tradition.  I only think of the Vietnam War, which I was very glad not to be a part of, so the tune, for me at least, doesn't evoke any fond memory of a family celebration oriented around a large turkey dinner.  to me, Arlo Guthrie's ballad  evokes Hueys, rice paddies and tough little men in black pajamas who luckily never got a shot at yours truly.  I honor the guys that served in Vietnam, but man alive am I glad that I wasn't one of them.

    I made it down to K Bay and out to the beach without getting arrested for littering.  The

Why do so many butterflyfish swim in pairs?

local chapter of AA had appropriated the kiosk for the day; they needed the entire facility, but a motherly lady engaged in spreading butcher paper on the tables said that I was welcome to join in if I was in recovery.  God bless ya , ma'am. 

     Soon enough, Bob and I were swimming in the clear cool water under cloudy skies.  Early on I saw some very pretty black durgons, which never seem to photograph as well as I would like.  If you look carefully, you may appreciate the fine electric blue lines covering not only the forehead, but the entire body of this ordinarily satin black triggefish.

     On the back side of Surfer's Rock there was a pair of teardrop butterflyfish.  Sandra is forever saying I should write a blog just about pairs.  What is it about women that they think male butterflyfish should be

Elegant Hermit Crabs, Ca. elegans, Kahalu'u December 2015

monogamous?  Or am I missing something here?  Anyway,  this pair cooperated and I came away with this nice photograph.

    A bit further on,  I came across this pair of elegant hermit crabs (Ca. elegans).  Early in the swim, Bob picked up a the shell of a nicobar triton and we examined it carefully, knowing that this was the favorite haunt of the blood hermit crab, Dar. sanguinocarpus.)  In this case, the nerer elegant is living in the most common shell for the species and the other guy is making do with something else.  They do make a fine pair,though.  Viva la difference.

    On the way in, Bob spotted a small stout moray eel.  This guy was so small that, had the coloration not been distinctive, one might have wondered if he was a dwarf moray.  The photograph leaves no doubt as to the identification.  The camera captured a well focused portrait that displays the  nose tubes.  The better to smell you with my dear.  Over in the cloudy water by the second

Stout Moray Eel  December 2015

kiosk, I found  a Christmas wrasse hunting with a female ember parrotfish.  While Sandra is gaga for pairs, I love symbiotic associations.  It is not uncommon to see the Christmas wrasse hunting with the much larger parrotfish.  If you happen to catch a glimpse of the wrasse working with the extraordinarily handsome male ember, it is a pleasing sight, indeed.  Generally, this combo moves by with such dispatch that I am unable to get a picture.  This time they slowed down and I was able to get this picture.  Even with the miracle of photoshopping, you can still appreciate the turbid water.  Its difficult for me to envision what benefit the parrotfish night get from this relationship, dining as it does on algae and coral.  The wrasses eat invertebrates, which may be disturbed by the parrotfish.  There may be something about this relationship that isn't immediately apparent.

   Ashore, Bob showed me a test of the keeled heart urchin, Brissus latecarinatus, that he had picked up on

Ember Parrot with Christmas Wrasse (in cloudy water)

 the way in.  As you can see from the picture, it is asymmetrical.  This urchin lives in the sand, taking in the substrate through the forward opening mouth and expelling it out the back.  There are two substantial orifices in the test to provide for these functions and no hole on the bottom, as is the case with any sea urchin test that I have previously seen.  I have never seen this urchin in life, however, it tunnels under the sand leaving a raised trail like a mole.  So why don't they call it the mole urchin?  That way, should you encounter it in a Mexican restaurant, it would be covered with that bitter chocolate sauce that tastes faintly of tobacco.  All kidding aside, from the standpoint of his linear alimentary mechanism, this urchin bears a striking resemblance to a sea cucumber.

   Well, Bob and I went home, but soon the whole mob of us convened at Casa Ono for Thanksgiving dinner.  We had a delightful meal with lots of specialty touches and then the four of us hauled ourselves from

The asymmetrical sea urchin test.

 the table to decorate the Christmas tree.  With Christmas in Latte Land playing in the background, our collection of ornaments were placed on the tree.  When the job was done, I noticed to my pronounced chagrin that there was something drastically wrong with my paper mache fish.  Closer examination revealed that many of them had been decimated by wood boring beetles.  Curiously, the fish ornaments actually made of wood were not affected.

    This wood boring beetle is a common pest here on the big island.  It frequently attacks bits of furniture.  The treatment is simple enough:  you put the effected object in the freezer for 48 hours.  This has spawned a curious little industry, where people who own freezers for things like food, will rent space for a table infested with wood boring beetles.  It was easy enough to round up the ornaments and put them in a freezer bag and then into our trusty icebox.  You will note the picture of a hybrid Achille's Tang

Husky Tang Christmas Ornament With Wood Boring Beetles

done in purple and gold with two tiny beetles that popped out when he was removed from the freezer.  The only bad part was that it rendered some of the finer paper mache work friable.  In this case the Husky Tang seems to have lost the tips of his fins.  I'm sure you will note the small holes bored by the beetles.  Bad beetles!

       Bob and Kim had brought us an early Christmas gift (we received a candle that smells for all the world like the cinnamon rolls served by Holiday Inn and the amazing asymmetrical sea urchin test) so we sent them home with a Latte Land disk still in its original cellophane wrapper.  The story of Latte Land, written and
produced by my talented brother Chuck Hill, is a touching tale, with which the Hillis's were regaled at length.  The story is beyond the scope of this blog, but through the miracle of the internet you can click on this link and hear the signature song on YouTube.
 .https://www.youtube.c/watch?v=wCGdgX8Cjh4  

It should make great background music while you read the rest of the blog.

Nanner, nanner, nanner.

    The remainder of the Thanksgiving weekend was a blur of football with our beloved Huskies beating the stuffing (little Thanksgiving dinner joke) out of WSU on a glorious November day hard by the Montlake Cut.  Go Dogs!

   Sandra and I went snorkeling early on Saturday morning (so we would be home in time to watch football on TV.)  It was a gorgeous day and the water at the pier was cool and clear.  On the way out, we came across this juvenile fourspot butterflyfish flitting about in a remnant of Pocillipora coral.  This is one of the best pieces of cauliflower coral left on the Ironman side of the of the pier.  The branches of the Pocilliporas provide an important nursery for many of our fish.  The decimation of this genus by the hot summer water with resultant bleaching is ominous.

      On the way in, we didn't see too much of merit in the fish department, but I did manage this picture of an orangemouth lizardfish.  My colleague Professor Hillis let it slip that he needed a picture of this relatively

The Author and his son  James with the Timbers Army.

 common lizardfish, so this opportunity got my competitve juices flowing.  And just in time, as Stanford defeated Notre Dame by a couple on the last play of the game.  I was pleased, but the producer of Latte Land, an out of the closet Irish-despiser, was beside himself with glee.

     The weekend ended with the Portland Timbers defeating FC Dallas for the the western conference championship in MLS.  This game was shared with my son James, who curtailed his visit to the Outlaws in Roseburg, making it home in tine to watch his beloved eleven from the Rose City.  Rose City, No Pity!  The Timbers won the right to raise a flag in Providence Park and Sandra and I enjoyed several game related conversations on the telephone with James and Tara.  At two months, CJ is too young to talk and Riley is a still dog. 

    And that was the Thanksgiving weekend in Kailua.  Sandra and I hope your holiday was filled with good friends and family, good food and at least one football victory.

jeff

CJ is here to root for the Timbers!