Full of creatures: pill bugs, sea mice, larval fireflies, urchins, irrupting millipedes. And also filled with scientists galore. Both are interesting, but you read to the end because Sue Hubbell is a force, and hopefully you too can be gazing into tide pools with wonder in your 70s.
It's rare to have a biology book that is also a parallel story about building a house in Maine, and about getting old. This paragraph in the epilogue caught me off-guard, after spending most of the book learning about things like horseshoe crab mating cycles:
"It doesn't make me sad to contemplate my own time's ending. After all, I've had a pretty good run of it, have done a lot of interesting stuff. I have no regrets, which, as I see people die who have them, I realize is significant. What does make me sad is the accumulating loss over the years of the lives of others dear to me. It isn't an incapacitating sorrow, merely a mild, soft sadness, like some midnight blue velvet background, the setting for new attachments. It gives a luster to the ones I still have, makes me more careful with them. It is a backdrop, too, brightening the contrast with new lives coming into being, new shoots of trees coming up, puppies, bee larvae, the family babies. It is cheering to keep the process going."