On a boat group dive with the DM whizzing over a somewhat barren shallow sand bottom with occasional coral heads, where I still kept finding cool stuff and, I live here. *side rant* Most annoying was later when the DM apologized to everyone for not finding anything interesting.
I think the shallow 25' or so, bright overhead sunlight and endless vis that day helped bring out the colors, I was sure spotting a lot of small stuff like the shrimps and nudis I don't unless at my preferred near to motionless pace. So trying to keep the rest of the group in sight at least, I was zigzagging their beeline tearing myself away from coral head to next diagonal coral head.
Now I don't see much detail at a distance underwater and viewing a blue and yellow sort of cloud of nats twinkling over a coral head was quite intriguing, what the heck could that be? Upon arrival I didn't give a hoot anymore if anyone had to come looking for me. At the time I had a mini reef aquarium and I've never desired a fish so much, before or after.
The cloud of nats were mostly baby Nahacky's Pygmy Angelfish (at the time all I knew was 'That Fish' Angelfish) a vivid canary yellow, inky blue and head a blue so electric it literally sparked in the sun beams. Like nuclear fission blue, I happened to get to see that once and a color I'll never forget.
The dime size babies fluttered up, down, round and round topping out no more than a couple of inches over the rim of the nursery. A near to perfect circle hollowed out coral head the rim shaped I had to be over it to see it was hollowed out, with an overhang making the sand floor wider still.
They seemed curious about me, pausing a second right before my mask with a sweet little quizzical smile. Then (the little teases) with a flick of that near to fluorescent yellow tail in my face,:mooner: dive bomb to the bottom under the ledge, only to peek right back out.
When one went too high/too close one of the bigger authority figures would whip up and chase it back inside and around a while before flying up and giving me the stink eye. If I stuck my face in they all skedaddled faster than a Fisher's out of sight under the ledge with the bigger ones knifing in sideways it was so narrow. The second I backed up a few inches they'd reappear and resume just as charming as before.
I wanted to pet or chuckle under the chin like a kitten but couldn't see enough of anything to pet. (A good thing, not having to stifle the urge.) As long as I stayed over that line they all would take turns popping up in defiance and taunt me, 'betcha can't catch me, na na na na na' as focused on me as I was on them. Ok, not as much, I was after all helicoptering on my head with mask smack on that glass ceiling.
The friendliest cutest critters ever, felt like I was in an animated Disney movie (were Bambi and a couple of squirrels nearby too?)
And then for the cherry on top, discovered my That Fish (that anyone I asked, did not exist) is a Johnston Atoll fish and only strays to the Hawaiian Islands.
With a single specimen.
By Nahacky.
Aloha nui loa to the Waikiki Aquarium for having one (OMG, that's That Fish!) and the biologist I had dragged out to speak to me about it.