Lahaina Noon, Popping a Peacock, Manta Rays

[Note: This is another blog based on my weekly emails to my family on the mainland.]

7/29/23

Aloha All --

Wow, I can't believe it's almost August. I'm sure that many people on the mainland are getting eager for this sizzling summer to be over, but I'd just as soon things slow down a bit.  We're still in our warm spell, but it's hard to complain at 88 when parts of the country are hitting near 100d.  We're continuing to get just enough rain to keep everything green and growing, which means much of my time is still spent whacking back the jungle. For some reason our vegetable garden hasn't done all that well this year, but our fig tree has had a bumper crop -- to the point that we're giving many of them to friends, like we used to do with zucchini back in Ohio.

On Tuesday Karen and I played golf with our usual partner.  The weather was ok, but not nearly as nice as the week before when I didn't play --we got rained out after 16 holes.  Part of our problem is that we start late, about 10 am usually, and after about 3 hours the clouds and mist build on the mountain.  However, starting earlier isn't part of our cavalier approach to the game. Unfortunately, we had an injury this time....to a peacock.  We were teeing off and our friend hit a peahen on the foot.  Our friend is a vet and could have made a professional evaluation but the hen wasn't having any of that.  Visually it didn't appear misshapen or dangling, so we think she'll be ok.  This is bound to happen occasionally, given the number of birds and their proximity to humans hitting small hard balls with long mallets.

The cloudiness at Makalei prevented us from seeing a unique phenomenon called Lahaina Noon, when the sun is directly overhead and objects cast no shadow.  Hawai'i is the only place in the US where this happens because we are in the tropical latitudes, between 23.5 degrees north and south of the equator.  Kona is at 19.64 degrees.  It occurs twice a year, once in the spring and once in the summer.  The name "Lahaina" was given to the phenomenon in the 1990's as part of a contest and translates as "Cruel Sun."  The old Hawaiian name was more anatomically descriptive but not as succinct:  "kau ka lā i ka lolo," or "the sun rests on the brain."

On Thursday we went to a fascinating talk about our resident Manta Rays. Three researchers presented information about Manta characteristics, current status and conservation efforts.  These animals are

Gentle Giant

magnificent, reaching wingspans here of about 12 feet, but elsewhere up to 30 feet.  They are entirely harmless filter feeders without a tooth in their bodies, and they have no barbed poisonous tail like the sting ray.  Our population is about 300, and some individuals have been studied for over 20 years -- identified and cataloged by the unique pattern of spots on their bellies.  We learned that there is no sustainable way they can be harvested for food, because they reproduce very slowly.  Each female has one "pup" at a time, with a gestation period of 13 months, and can produce only about 5 in her lifetime.  They live a long time, on average about 25-30 years and don't reach sexual maturity until 10-15 years old.  One of the researchers is looking at injuries to Mantas and has found, contrary to common belief, boat strikes account for only about 7% of Manta injuries, whereas entanglement with fishing and boating gear is about 42%.  A hot issue here in Kona are Manta Night Dives and Snorkel trips to watch Mantas feed.  They've become so popular that the common sites are way too crowded.  Efforts to voluntarily limit the activity have been only partially successful, and legislation to control it has so far been difficult to pass.  The good news, though, is that since the 1990's killing a Manta for any reason is illegal, unlike other parts of the world where they are being sold for food.  I was pleased to see that the talk was well-attended, an encouraging sign that people are interested in well-being of these wonderful creatures.

Karen got the results of the biopsy of the spot on her eyelid. All good -- a benign "barnacle," where "barnacle" is our dermatologist's informal term for "symbiosis ohmygoshiac cashonlyoma."  

Ok, that's my week.  Off to market and beach breakfast picnic.  Take care and tune out as much of the b.s. as you can.