Hey tweets, antman E.O. Wilson says that humans are born with an innate love
of nature that he calls biophilia. It's why people as different as George
Bush and me both like to get out into nature and rejuvenate ourselves.
George has his ranch; I (at least until George gets his hands on it) have
the Fill. More accurately, he has his ranch; the public has the Fill. And
the Fill does rejuvenate. Yesterday I was feeling so very worried about my
oldest son Alex, who is trying to come home from Micronesia. Typhoons have
made travel by boat even more hazardous out there than usual, and sensible
people are staying on shore, but Alex is 20 so how sensible is that? I
decided that I would soon drive myself crazy unless I derailed my mind from
such thoughts. So I went out to the Fill and sat on the wedding rock for an
hour. I was so miserable that I didn't think even the Fill could help. How
wrong I was.

As I entered the little amphitheater where the wedding rock sits, I saw
cedar waxwings festooning every bush. They let me come right up to them and
watch them to my heart's content. They were too busy telling each other
about all the berries - and eating them - to pay attention to me. Each
waxwing was in absolutely pristine plumage, looking more like they belonged
in the tropics than here in Seattle. Joining them in the feast was an
immature robin, the first I've seen this year. What a clueless bird. He kept
trying to perch on little twigs too thin to support him, at which point, he
would flail his wings around, trying to hold on. The few berries he managed
to eat before falling ignominiously off the twig could hardly have repaid
the outlay of energy he spent flapping so hard. Meanwhile, the elegant
waxwings went on calmly dining. It was like watching a medieval play,
complete with nobility and the court jester.

Next on the program, my favorite Anna's hummingbird showed up. I was afraid
that he had left after breeding this year, but he is still around. He was
sucking nectar out of the flowers that were on the same bush as the cedar
waxwings' berries. If I knew plants better (I'm even worse on plants than I
am on bird songs!), I would tell you the name of this bush. It's just to the
left of the wedding rock and looks like it will be food-heavy for several
more days. While I was watching the Anna's, a rufous showed up. At first the
two hummers paid no attention to each other, but then they got into an
argument and chased each other off. That was the end of the Anna's for the
day. The rufous came back and hummed right by my head. Then another rufous
came and did the same thing. It was so very beautiful, sitting there and
looking at these glorious creatures. When a shadow passed overhead, I
glanced up to see a bald eagle flying just above me. He was holding a fish
in his talons and was trying to make headway against a stiff north breeze.
The eagle was not helped by the fact that a crow was pecking and diving at
him. For a second, I thought the eagle was going to drop the fish right on
my head. But he managed to hold on and flew off toward the west, still
harassed by the crow. Later I saw an eagle diving near Union Bay. I don't
know if it was the same one or not. Perhaps it's got babies to feed.

I wish I could explain to you (and even to me) why watching such activities
is so deeply satisfying. Wilson's explanation, that such feelings are
innate, is no explanation at all. I mean, if I can explain why I love my
husband, I ought to be able to come up with why I love nature. Heck, nature
takes out its own garbage, which my husband rarely does without nagging;
nevertheless, I'm still crazy about him.

I know one thing I really like about nature is the fact that it is so much
bigger and longer-lasting than humans. For many people, religion grants a
belief in eternity; for me, nature does. I like knowing that hummingbirds
have been arguing over who gets the flower for millions of years, and that
they will go on doing it long after I am gone. I guess it makes my problems
and worries seem small. And that is why I love the Fill. - Connie, Seattle

csidles at isomedia.com