The Woods

Posted Tue Nov 4, 2003 in

I have a couple of Dan Gibson’s Sollitude recordings. I prefer the Nature’s Sounds series that has no music track, just the sounds of the outdoors. These are excellent recordings and offer a welcome change to listening to music or spoken word recordings.

I’ve been listening to Thunderstorm. The sounds take me back many years ago to when I lived in Missouri.

I remember walking through the woods in the fall, tan-colored leaves on the ground, the quiet swishing of my boots through the damp leaves, the soft zzzziiiippppp of a twig against the nylon of my jacket, the sound of my blood in my ears and my breathe in my lungs.

In the distance, I hear the calls of crows, often echoing off the far bluff, caw, caw, caw… I smell the musty moldiness of the forest mast, stirred by my steps, the darker colors showing beneath the lighter above. I hear the flutter of wings and the raucous call of a red-headed woodpecker, watching my progress and calling to the other creatures of the woods. Sometimes, I see the startling red of its head-plumage stark against the grays and browns of the fall forest. I can hear, off in the distance, the thudding scamper of a red or gray squirrel, that jumping gait they use on the ground, clear in the stillness, scattering fallen leaves as it moves.

I hear Little Dry Fork creek, a couple of hundred yards away, burbling as its water crosses the riffles, the sweet sound singing a counterpoint to the melody and rythmn of the birds. If I’m lucky, I hear the gobble of a wild turkey. Certainly I hear the cry of a mourning dove, plaintive in its sorrow.

If I’m stealthy and pay attention, I might see a deer or a cottontail rabbit. They are never visible for long, their instincts long trained to avoid humans. I often find a red squirrel tucked into the crotch of an oak. If I startle it, I’ll be scolded with a series of stacatto barks and a quck shuffle to the backside of the tree, followed by the slower bark and squeak they make.

I spent a lot of time walking in the woods. I didn’t always carry a weapon, but just walked along stealthily, listening, watching, absorbing everything with my senses, aware, alert, and alive. Many times that experience was sufficient; I never fired a shot, even if a target was presented.

  1. Now that is evocative! Thanks, David! — dan    4 November 2003, 14:12    #

  2. You are welcome... sometimes, when I get in the right mood, the words just flow out of me as I remember something I've done or someplace I've been. I can still smell the woods in the fall. I can still hear a squirrel cutting a hickory nut from a half-mile away, the "quik, quik, quik" of incisors on hickory hull and the plopping of the husk through the tree to the ground below. <grins> — ruminator    4 November 2003, 15:53    #

  3. Sweet! — dan    4 November 2003, 17:09    #