Christine Schoene Maccabee
Nature’s Quietude
I live in a valley cradled between the ancient rolling mountains, just north of Thurmont. This area is a perfect habitat for many species of frogs, toads, birds, and mammals, and I feel blessed to live here. Even though I am a musician, the best and most soothing music for me is the sound of peepers in the spring, crickets and katydids, and bird songs all around me in every season. The other day, after pulling up to the front of my home after a long day in Frederick, I turned off the noisy engine of my car, opened the door, and was greeted by the sweet, melodious song of a bird in the pine trees. Instantly, my whole body relaxed and I was happy. There is nothing more gratifying for me than this—and nothing more healing.
Many famous writers have expressed the need we all have for such quiet times, away from the noise of churning engines and demanding electronic sounds of telephones, TVs, leaf blowers and, well, you name it. However, when I say it is a need we all have, I do not mean just human need. It has now been scientifically documented that wild birds need quiet to find mates and to defend territories. According to the National Park Service’s own studies, there has been a detrimental impact on red-tailed hawks, spotted owls, elk, caribou, mountain goats, and many other forms of wildlife due to plane overflies and the use of intrusive all-terrain vehicles.
Even Charles Lindbergh, famous for being the first pilot to fly across the Atlantic, expressed concern when he said, “I would rather have birds than airplanes.” Impressive. That reminds me of Albert Einstein’s letter to President Roosevelt, stating that if he had known what harm atom bombs could do, he would never have recommended that they be manufactured. Perhaps it is not so wise for humans to run with every invention they come up with; although, progress must go on at any cost—or so “they” say. Question is: Are we building a literal tower of Babel for ourselves?
“The day will come when man will have to fight noise as inexorably as cholera and the plague,” said the Noble prize-winning bacteriologist, Robert Koch, in 1905. Heavy duty and prophetic.
Today, “the rate of quiet places extinction vastly exceeds the rate of species extinction,” said Gordon Hempton in his book One Square Inch of Silence. Mr. Hempton, an acoustic ecologist and lover of quiet, went from coast to coast trying to find wild places devoid of human sound, winding up in the halls of Congress to make a case for less noise in our national parks. Because of his dedication, legislation was passed in 1987 to reduce air traffic over the Grand Canyon.
Let me return to the simple truth of my own life when I say that not only do I love nature’s music better than most songs on the radio, but I direly need nature’s quietude to survive, literally. I do not do well, physically or emotionally, with a lot of technological speed and clamor; though like everyone, I have no choice but to live with it the best I can. Many people seem to have no problem adapting to noise, although it may affect them more than they know. I honestly am not in judgment of some types of technology or people who love the sounds associated with it. I am simply acknowledging how it affects me and the natural world that I love so dearly.
So, I limit my trips to town in the car, I leave the house when my son’s music gets too loud, and I listen to bird songs. I suppose because I am a musician, I am particularly attuned to beautiful bird songs. Over the last couple of years, I have written many of them down on staff paper—in the very keys the birds sing them! Some early morning bird songs are in the keys of D flat minor, D flat major, and F major. By evening, the songs slow down, and one particularly poignant melody I heard sounded more like a sigh than a song—done in the key of C minor. Its beauty astounded me, and I feel profoundly blessed to have heard it.
I have a challenge for you. On some clear day, no matter the season, hike into the Catoctin Mountains alone or with a comrade of similar interest. Do little or no talking, and once you are as far away from human noise as you can get, hold your breath, for breathing makes sound. Listen for the natural sounds of leaves fluttering in the wind, or bird calls, or perhaps, if you are lucky, you will hear the profound sound of total silence…of no sound!
Mostly, I hope you can find some peace and quiet wherever and whenever you can. This long cold winter, see if you can hear the sound of snowflakes falling. And if you are suffering from anxiety, just take a deep breath and know that quiet is quieting, and now and then “God speaks to us in whispers.”
