(My apologies to Paul Simon for borrowing the title, but what the hell…)
You hear a lot about the silence of the wild. I’m thinking particularly of the desert where I roam. It’s not really silent though. Yes, compared to the frantic hustling, the racket and ruckus and noise of our towns and highways it’s quiet. But it’s not silent.
There are sounds. The cry of a hawk. The scrawk of a raven. The whistle of a phainopepla, which sounds like somebody whistling from behind a bush trying to get your attention. Sometimes you hear the yap of a coyote or the buzz of a diamondback. You hear the wind. You can hear the roar of the almighty sun as it pounds on your brainpan. Natural sounds.
They’re there for us. If we can pry ourselves loose from the clutches of our every day rat race, from the constant barrage of noise, from the constant chatter in our own heads we might hear them. Maybe. If we learn to listen closely enough. They’re there. We need them.
buzztail 