A katydid rests on the round, spiny fruits of a castor bean (Ricinus communis) plant. These fruit capsules contain large bean-like seeds which are very poisonous. In the photo, it looks like the katydid is feeding, presumably not on the poisonous bits.
I posted a few weeks ago here about a large female Hawaiian garden spider which had spun a web in a place I often visit. A week or so later, that spider had disappeared.
Now, in that spot, three new webs have appeared, each occupied by female Hawaiian garden spiders. However, these new occupants are much smaller, about the same size as the average male of the species. I think it’s likely they’re the offspring of the first spider I saw there.
The smallness of the new spiders can be seen in the size of the prey this one had caught – a little ladybird.
What is there to say about the coqui frog (Eleutherodactylus coqui)? How about KO-KEE, KO-KEE, KO-KEE, KO-KEE, KO-KEE, KO-KEE. And how about calling that out at around 100 decibels ALL NIGHT LONG.
Coquis came to the Big Island in the late 1980s, believed to be an accidental import on some plants. They hail from Puerto Rico where they’re a popular cultural symbol. But in Puerto Rico, the coqui has predators such as snakes and birds. In Hawaii, it has no predators and it’s thriving. Indeed, I recently read that supersized coquis have been found here, not the usual frogs the size of a quarter, but silver dollar sized – about 50% bigger. One theory for this is that the excellent conditions and lack of predators means the coquis live longer and thus eat more and grow bigger. Watch for ‘The Coqui That Stomped Hilo’ coming soon to a theater near you.
Suffice it to say that coquis are considered an unwanted invasive species here. Homeowners try to eradicate them because their noise is believed to lower property values. Even businesses are affected, with tourists considered less likely to want to stay in areas infested with coquis. (Ironically, while Hawaii tries to battle this mostly-loathed frog, in its native Puerto Rico this much-loved frog is threatened by a fungus called Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis and coqui numbers there are in decline.)
The east side of the island, with its greater rainfall and abundant vegetation, is prime coqui habitat. The northern part of the island, where I live, is considered coqui free. What that means is that the frog is not established here and coordinated efforts are made to find and eliminate those that are heard. It’s an uphill battle. I know I hear them at night. A few weeks ago it was just one, but now that one’s call is being answered by others.
And what about that call? Well, as usual, it’s the males making all the ruckus. The call is both a warning to other males (the KO part) and an alluring come hither to females (the KEE part). With the males, one will make the call to establish his territory and then another might respond to challenge this. They keep up this call and response until one gives up, a process that can last many minutes. The loser will move on while the winning male will start over until another challenger chimes in.
I’ve heard plenty of coquis, but the one above is the first I’ve actually seen. I was visiting Hawaii Tropical Botanical Gardens and taking photos of a gold dust day gecko that I saw on a red ginger (Alpinia purpurata). The gecko was poking its nose into the plant looking for moisture or nectar, when there was a sudden flurry. If you look at the photo below, the reason can be seen toward the top left corner, lurking deep in the bloom. The coqui hadn’t appreciated being disturbed and seemed to nip the gecko causing it to jump back. Then the frog came out a bit farther to check the coast was clear, before returning to its hideaway.
For more information about coqui frogs in Hawaii, go to https://www.ctahr.hawaii.edu/coqui/index.asp.
Three goats crossing a golf course fairway while a pair of nene head the other way. What I like about this image is that they all look very purposeful in their progress, as if they had an important appointment to keep. Only the saffron finch in the foreground looks like it couldn’t give a damn.
Green anoles display their dewlaps for breeding and to establish territory among males. When a male anole enters the territory of another, the holder of that territory displays his dewlap and bobs his head up and down. Often the intruding male will leave, but he might also return the display and try to take that territory. Such encounters can turn violent.
Male anoles will also display their dewlaps when their territory is breached by people, dogs, chickens and the like. In this photo, the male anole is displaying his colors at me, but with an air of resignation. I think this is because he recognized me and knew that I was mostly harmless and, no matter what he did, I wouldn’t go away until I’d taken a few photos.
I always look for new calves when I go past the dairy farm at Upolu, and most days I’m rewarded by seeing at least one.
This calf is black and white, like its mom, but where mom looks distinctly off-white, the calf is still whiter than white. Whenever I see this, I can’t help but think of ads for laundry soap.
I came across these two sleepy orange butterflies (Abaeis nicippe) while on a walk. I think the one flying is a male since they’re described as having more sharply defined borders on the wings. If that’s the case, I presume this was some sort of mating activity going on, or at least, being attempted by the male. I didn’t see any response from the other butterfly so don’t know if the attempt was ultimately successful.
A gold dust day gecko drapes itself over a torch ginger (Etlingera elatior). This striking red form is not the flower but is known as an inflorescence. The red leaf-like parts are bracts and it is from between these that the yellow-edged red flowers will emerge.
Graham's Island 