Sounds and Seasons
Even before coming out here from the towns and cities, from the packed tight residencies of my years before, my favorite times of the year – in time frames shorter than seasons, just a few days here and a few days there – were associated with sounds. For instance, when winter first comes in there is the low groan of the ice forming on a river. Or, as winter fades, the cracks of the break up of ice on the lake. Perhaps it is the feeling that the sounds bring an inevitability, that there was no turning back, that, with the subtle roar of the forming ice, winter has truly settled in. Perhaps it is that these moments come with a sense of intense, unusual quiet if it is still enough to feel the quick blasts of breaking ice, the moment has a serenity of its own that comes only with a sudden, broken silence.
So I have just returned from the forest and another of my favorite seasonal sounds. That moment with the forest becomes alive with moving sound. When, at the end of the fall, all the leaves are just waiting, yellowed with anticipation, for a light breeze, for only the slightest touch so gentil that the small human on the forest floor doesn’t even hear it, doesn’t even notice it… and then the leaves fall. In the thousands. Silent till they hit the ground. I am always amazed at how much sound they generate, one on each other, after their silent fall. It’s the sound of a thousand scuffling feet in the forest, surrounding, approaching, receding. It’s the sound of autumn slowly walking toward winter.
But today there was even more sound. As I walked the forest listing to the silent breeze turn to trampling leaves and taking the above picture I came upon a set of other feet. More lively feet. Connected to wings. I ran into a flock of close to two dozen wild turkeys. Unfortunately, I was too busy gobbling, laughing and shouting “Hell-ooo Turkeeeeeey!” to actually take any pictures of them as they all flew in slightly different directions in what I can only suspect was their confusion at my excitement. Made me terribly happy, though. A lovely way to see out the turn from the autumn of color to the autumn of grey…
For those who don’t know about my thing for turkeys, look back here.
