Sounds In The Forest

… in Wildness is the preservation of the world.

H.D. Thoreau

In the forest, air pushes and parts and comes together again around Ponderosa pine needles. The branches and needles bend and sway and spring back. A multitude of tiny oscillations of pressure occur and spread out in all directions, and I hear a whoosh. Nearing the summit of Mount Atalaya the wind picks up and the early snowstorm intensifies. Falling snow streaks sideways. I can hear the whoosh of approaching gusts traveling up and over the slopes. And then they are upon me. Snow pelts and stings my face. I have strong associations with the sound of wind in the trees, this is being in the forest, this is being in nature.

Coming down the mountain I cross paths with a flock of Juncos, a dozen or more birds in all. These little members of the sparrow family are ground feeders. They flit around and ahead of me and stop to peck for seeds, I walk the trail and they fly along. The sound of their wing beats fascinates me. Each bird quickly flaps its wings gaining altitude of about a foot, then glides and falls and then again flaps its wings. Thus they travel in a bobbing up and down way, their wings make a rapid puttering sound, their glides are silent. And so being surrounded by them is to be surrounded by a lovely three dimensional ensemble of putterings and quiet. Each soft little drum beat the beat of a wing. The Juncos and I are together for a few moments and then we part.

There is order in nature. There is freedom of greed and artifice in nature and this is why I go for hikes. Time in nature - the setting is not important - renews and refreshes my spirit, it gives me hope.

Gordon Bunker