Hey tweets, my newest book about nature and the Fill has just cleared customs. John and I went down to Alki on Monday to wave at our books as they passed by on their way to Harbor Island. We had been tracking the ship from Hong Kong all the way across the ocean. At 5 a.m. it was off Edmonds, so we threw on our clothes and drove like mad over to Alki to welcome it into port. Unfortunately, mornings lately have been densely foggy, so all we could see from our bench near the beach were the hands in front of our faces. We couldn't see a single light from Seattle across the bay, though we knew it had to be out there somewhere. Our ship was booming its foghorn, and the noise got closer and closer, until it was directly in front of us. That set off the sea lions, who began roaring, and that set off a Great Blue Heron who had been doing what? Driving a boat? Water-skiing? Fishing? Who knew? Then the waves from the ship's wake washed ashore, everything got quiet again, and we came home. It was great hearing the combination of wild creatures and human-made objects coming out of the ether. Boating and birding by ear.

People who forget their binoculars and go birding anyway have told me that, despite the frustration of not being able to see birds close up, the experience can be thrilling, as they focus much more on the sounds that fill up our world. I suspect in many ways, this is how birds experience the world too, especially when they are in dense cover and can't see much beyond the claw in front of their face.

In our kindergarten days, we were all told to Stop, Look, and Listen. Remember? That advice of old is just as good today. If we stop, look, and listen, we can see the birds, hear their nattering, notice how they fit together in the balance of nature, and realize that we're in there too - right where we belong. - Connie, Seattle

P.S. My new book is called "Fill of Joy." It will be in the SAS Nature Shop this afternoon, and is already on my website:

www.constancypress.com