Rescue for Silence*
By Gordon Hempton
*This article first appeared in the Spanish magazine Integral, February, 2003.
All photographs, text and audio are by the author. A broadband connection is recommended for
audio playback. All copyrights are
reserved.
There
is quiet, a stillness in all of us. So
we thirst for quiet and silence, like we thirst for water. We search for silence in quiet places such as
forests, oceans, gardens, churches, libraries, and in our homes. Our quest for silence comes to us also in
prayer and sleep. We all have special
places we seek to be in quiet, in peace, in silence. Silence makes me feel alive. There are no distractions in silence and it
is here that I find what is truly important in life.
I
collect nature sounds—that is my job.
However, today I am much more likely to be called an acoustic ecologist,
than a just a sound collector, because sound—production, transmission, and
perception—has everything to do with how ecological communities work. Natural sounds carry the ‘news’ about
weather, food, danger, a possible mate or challenger in every direction, easily
for miles under calm 
atmospheric conditions. My extensive library, amassed from around the
globe, is applied to everything from computer games, radio programs, movie
soundtracks and music CD’s, to museum exhibits, art galleries, and
environmental education programs. Why do my clients come to me, rather than
record the sounds themselves? –The world has become so incredibly noisy with the
sounds of human activity that silence, the canvas on which auditory experience
is written on, has just about vanished, unless we preserve it. Why is natural
silence important?
As
humans are soaked with noise pollution and bombarded with a constant stream of
information through television, radio, and other forms of sound coming to our
ears, instructions are given to us. Sound
gives us instructions in our lives.
Even when we think we are not paying attention to sound, our brain is
continually making decisions based on what is heard. We are listening 24 hours each day of our
lives, 360 degrees—for better or for worse.
However,
given that we are innately drawn to silence and peace, we must ask ourselves:
What are the unfiltered, unaltered, unaffected true instructions that come from
our hearts, minds, and souls when we are in silence? After the hours, or even days I spend
clearing out the noise, I find clear instructions. These instructions are lucid, wisdom filled,
and self-evident. My most powerful instruction
comes to me in silence, and it is simply this: That everything in life is about
love.
We
must honor and preserve the quiet places in our world so we may hear that
silent instruction that guides us through life, giving us the truest answers
when we are in need for healing, for health, for happiness, for peace of mind
and countless reasons in our journey though life. Most of all, we must look at silence as a
powerful element for survival and evolution of all life forms on earth. Every effort and action we make to preserve
silence, whether big or small, is vital on earth for this is our home.
The
first thing we must do in our quest for silence is listen. Not just listen to the world around us, but
listen to our instincts, our inner wisdom and the deep feelings that remain
unspoken.
Years
ago I was walking through
I found my
position, next to a little clearing at the crest of the hill where the first
rays of sunlight would descend, and I set-up to record. Suddenly I was overcome
with panic! I wanted to run but for no apparent reason. As I tried to get a
grip I told myself, "You are half way around the entire planet you fool
and if you don't stay and record you may never be back again! I don’t care what
you’re feeling—just stay put!" Then I realized, "You don't need to be
here, not now! Just leave the equipment running, and in two hours you can come
back and pick it up." And so I did just that.
Four
months later, I was back in my
Through the mastery of listening acquired over the
years in traveling the globe to record, I have become skillful not just in
listening to sounds, but in listening to my instincts. These skills were developed by sitting for
hours at a time… listening. Also, after
hours spent in solitude listening, one can only learn to clear out the noise
within. Most importantly, I am always
hopeful that the area will be free from noise pollution. Imagine how different that day in
Ears are the watchdogs of our existence. The slightest
news—a snap of a twig, the thud of falling fruit, the rush of distant water,
the song of a potential mate—and we become alert, often looking in the
direction from where it came. Sound often provides a ‘preview’ of coming
events—acting as an early warning system. If a sound reaches us suddenly from
the rear the startle response is initiated, bypassing the brain, and causing us
to fight, flight, scream or all of the above. I vote for all of the above.
Sound,
unlike light, travels through blinding vegetation and total darkness, over long
distances, off walls and around corners. The presence of one sound rarely
obscures another. We hear many sounds simultaneously and are able to know the
position and track very subtle changes in pattern. Compare this with vision
where one object commonly blocks the view behind it and we see in only one
direction at a time. It is a small wonder that sound is a primary means by
which all higher animals experience the world around them.
Healthy
human ears have a maximum sensitivity to frequencies well above what would be
considered normal speech. This corresponds with the resonant properties of the
auditory channel, but we cannot ignore the fact that an area of maximum
sensitivity would likely be an area of critical importance for a species
survival. So what acoustic event occurred in lives of our distant human
ancestors that required peak sensitivity in this higher range?
Was it the faint trill of a bird that gave a clue to food and water that lies
out of sight, thereby substantially reducing aimless wandering? Was it the
faint whine of a winged insect that carried a deadly disease, thereby allowing
it to be swatted? Or was it possibly the whisper of an arrow, thereby
triggering a reflex response and the avoidance of injury or death? Were our ancestors more in touch with their
listening instincts than we are today because of our noise filled world?
Although we may never find the answers to these
questions, sound and truth have a convincing close relationship. Sound is
important to our music, our religions, and in the anthems that unit a nation
during times of war. Sound is no less important for committing our society
towards ecological solutions.
Although
we are born with innate abilities to listen by instinct to the world around us,
we must learn to reduce the distractions of the modern world. The greatest step humanity can take in
preserving silence is in reducing the noise pollution in the world so we may
come to listen to the instincts we were born with.[2]
Awareness
is important regarding noise pollution.
When I recorded the sounds of the dawn awaking on the 1992 Emmy award
winning video, “The Vanishing Dawn Chorus,” it drew popular attention to the mere
extinction of silence in our world. I
started a campaign proposing to Congress to assign one square inch of silence
in ten national parks. Think about
finding one place in a park that you can visit, where there will be no trucks
heard, no planes flying over, no man made machinery…no human noise. Just nature itself, it all it’s glory. Wouldn’t that be a beautiful thing? Just one place in a park would be a great
start…all visitors can walk to it, by many paths, or just one path. As we embrace our diverse quests for higher
wisdom and faith, it is clear we all walk many paths, but we need at least one
path for this quest. Can it actually be possible? I wonder what state or what country will be
the first to start such an incredible, almost impossible feat. The desire has already started.
My View
of Earth
During
my travels around the globe, I’ve come to see the earth differently. For me it
is clearly a solar powered jukebox.
The
more sunlight that is available for plants to grow the more energy that is also
available to power the bioacoustics’ system. Sunny places are generally louder
places (e.g., tropical rainforests). Darker places are quieter places. In
short, go towards the equator and the earth gets louder; go towards the poles
and the earth gets quieter. (This effect is also enhanced by the fact that
sound travels faster in warm air compared to cold air; and sound travels
farther in humid air compared to dry air.)
Jukebox
Earth also plays different tunes. Select any given set of latitude and
longitude and you will hear a different tune. The more time that any given
location has had to evolve to form more complex, intertwined ecological
relationships, the more symphonic the music is. Glaciation,
logging, and other forms of devastation reduce the composition back to a
elemental forms, where the composition begins to build again in rhythm,
diversity, complexity. I’ve meet people who can correctly identify a place, the
season, and time of day based on the sounds alone.
There
are many global musical themes that continue to effect and unite many locations
across the surface of the earth. One is the wave of dawn that circles the
globe, composed largely (but not entirely) by bird vocalizations. Another is
the wave of dusk, often a reverse roll call of dawn. And yet another is the
northward and southward undulation of the seasons, and the changing sounds that
we hear like the changes in leaf sounds (silent spring leaves to firm, crisp
autumn leaves), the emergence of insects, and the presence of frogs, or
migratory birds.
Plant life is a key to understanding the distribution
natural sounds and how sounds behave in environments. Wildlife is so dependent
upon plants for survival, that the vegetation can be interpreted as the musical
score. From the vegetation alone (e.g., structure and composition), it is
possible to predict the kinds of animal sounds and other events that are likely
at other times of the day or year. I like to pretend that the plants themselves
have voices, and this illusion is helpful as a sound designer when I am given
only a photograph and must correctly apply the sounds.
Habitat Examples
Mountain
Listening
Mountains are
magnets to weather [listen]and
the ever-changing atmospheric conditions that drastically effect the distance,
speed, and rate of attenuation of sound. For this reason you are best to have
fur ears, like a dog, to remove much of the unwanted noise created by the wind
against your ears, but failing this, look frequently at the blades of grass or
the flight path of insects to guide you to the calmest spots for listening.
Then while there, notice that some of the rocks may also be popular sunning
spots. Such casual times exercised by tasty morsels demands good site selection
and little mammals are noted scholars. The flatter rocks exhibit boundary
effects that increase sound perception, some of these are often centered in
circular landform that further gives advantage. Listen too how some of the animals
like the marmots, will relay messages about intruders up the valley towards
your high peak. The whole world is making sound and listening. Stay and let go
of time.
My favorite
mountain listening experience is when I bend a calm ear towards melting snow.
Far from random drips or a virtual metronome, the drips take on elaborate
rhythms and seem to weave patterns as deep as your emotions. I have listened to
my favorite snowfields at Obstruction Point in Olympic Park for nearly five
years now, and each visit it is different--I suppose reflecting the differences
in seasons and snow depths. The best time to go is towards the end of the
summer when the snowfield separates from the talus and allows a space large
enough to insert your head. As night approaches, the liquid slows with falling
temperatures and the band plays single file.
Forest
Listening
The ancient
hardwood forest is the original architecture for which cathedrals are modeled.
(See detail at the tops of the spreading columns?) And the acoustics are fairly
much the same. My favorite time to listen is a spring morning when the winged
choir sings to the rising sun and the winds have not yet stirred. Unlike many
other natural habitats, the forest floor is seldom windy, but the treetops do
send the sound downward. Fortunately spring leaves are nearly silent and not
developing the typical rustle until summer, and the harsher clatter until
autumn. Leafed-out conditions add considerably to the reverberation and
proximity of space, adding intimacy, but if a creek is nearby the sound of the
creek will reflect downward (rather than escape upwards) and often confuse
perception. A fresh bit of rain or heavy dew significantly increases sound
reflections and keeps the ambience, brighter pitched and more reverberant. In
any case, an ancient hardwood forest in spring is never to be left unheard for
more than a week-- Make your appointment for Sunday since the sky overhead will
have the fewest jetliners of the week.
Coniferous
forests are distinctly different from deciduous forests. Note how uniform the
plant structures are for each species of conifers. The importance of this to
the listener can be understood when we consider that great pains are taken when
building a recording studio to make sure that physical shapes and patterns do
not repeat themselves. Repetitious structures add ‘coloration’ to any musical
performance. Well, here in the coniferous forest, the spacing of the trees, the
branches, and the needles are so uniform that the entire forest creates a wonderfully
colored sound portrait. Now add either wind or white flowing water and the
entire forest will begin to hum. John Muir claimed that he could navigate up
River Listening
In 1994, I followed the Merced River to Yosemite and then up the side
of Mt. Lyle and recorded the life of a river as it emerges from its babbling
youth and passes on to the silence of its meandering old age.[3]
Each stone is a note, arranged along a path of least resistance by the flowing
water. It is possible to listen to a river recording and correctly judge where
it is in the stage of hydrological development; and given two rivers of the
same stage, which is the least disturbed by hydrologic engineering. You can
test this principal where a stream tunes itself easily. Simply find a stream
with stones and listen closely and carefully. Learn each sound and from where
it comes. No pick up one of the stones. Listen to how the stream sound changes.
Now try to put the rock back and restore the original sound. This is much
harder than you might imagine.
Many kinds of
wildlife may visit river areas to drink but generally do not linger. Water
sounds mask other sounds and interfere with the ability of wildlife to hear
possible threats to security. Deer for example, will drink quickly, pausing
often to look around, and then leave without delay.
Shoreline
Listening
Ponds, lakes,
and ocean shores offer a broad range of listening situations with three common
features: 1) the water is contained 2) the water effects sound transmission,
and 3) we are usually listening from shore. For a number of reasons that don't
need to be explained here, shoreline listening offers the most productive
diversity of sounds and interesting acoustic behavior. Suffice it to say that
water attracts animals (include us), and it attracts sounds by capturing sounds
and transporting them through thermal layers to the shoreline. This is because
sound travels faster in warm air compared to cold air, and because calm
atmospheres are often organized into thermal layers, the sound bends as it
passes from one layer to the next. This effect is further enhanced by the fact
that many ponds and lakes occupy the lowest position in the surrounding
landscape thereby making excellent wilderness amphitheaters.[4]
Prairie
Listening
I avoided
prairies until last year when traveled 12,000 miles from
Today, prairies
remain one of the most difficult habitats to hear, and so I must speak from my
limited perspective drawn almost entirely from several months during the spring
of 1998.
Prairie songbirds appear some of the most
beautiful anywhere, including both the eastern and western meadowlarks [listen]and
their hybrids near the
Four
National Parks
Hawaii
Volcanoes National Park is an
absolutely first class listener’s destination with proper timing. This low
latitude location with plenty of moisture means lots of carbon fixation to
drive the bioacoustic system to peak levels, and warm
atmosphere for speed, and humidity for clarity. The effect is that everything
sounds so much closer and more alive than temperate latitudes. The island
environment has bird species which are endemic with vocalizations heard nowhere
else. The native culture also has a long history of sound awareness indicated
by the fact that their language still contains separate words for the sounds of
first breeze and second breeze after sunrise, etc.
Periodic lava
flows have created different vegetation types of different ages. (Clue.) The
oldest lava flow is buried underneath the oldest and most mature forest.
(Clue.) One such isolated stand is called
If you were to
visit
Great Smoky
at Cades Cove is another favorite
place of mine. This small natural amphitheater is closed to vehicular traffic
during the night and early mornings, so if you hike with the moon there is
ample 
opportunity to listen undisturbed. The best time to
visit in my opinion is in spring before the time change to daylight savings.
This will allow an extra hour of listening at dawn before the regularly scheduled
commercial over-flights begin to etch the skies.
Nowhere else in
the world are bird songs as musical! With all due respect to the western winter
wren [listen], my
favorite is the eastern winter wren [listen]because it
sings a better opera—the sound of its voice becomes all the sweeter after it
has echoed through the woods. Look for hemlock branches that offer its favorite
perch.
For late risers
a night walk may be preferred. In this case listen for the American Toad [listen]
singing from the wetter hillsides. It’s love song has the unique ability
to form phantom voices, that is, where two toads are singing together they
often tune their voices to each other causing a third voice to appear directly
in the center. It is as if by magic, two toads and three voices.[7]
Modern
listeners can equip themselves with recording devices to experiment with such
sounds. Sound recordings can be loaded onto most multimedia computers and
manipulated digitally for closer study. For example we can take a recording of
the American Toad’s habitat at Cades Cove [listen] and
alter it so that we hear it as the toad hears it [listen].
(This is done by equalization curve that matches its range of hearing.) We will
quickly learn that the toad’s ear is tuned to the sound of its own voice, and
its song sounds almost the same as what we hear. But we also will hear
something different than our human impression—the lower frequency sounds of the
toad’s predators are more easily heard by its large external ear membrane and
lack high frequency perception.
Another example
of computer assisted listening is to take the song of the western winter wren
and try slowing it down so that one breath of it’s voice (estimated at 2
seconds) is equal to one human breath (estimated at 12 seconds). What does it
sound like then? [listen]It is
filled with vocal complexities that our human rate of perception missed. (Audio
available) It seems unlikely that a species would invest energy towards such
precision unless it could serve some purpose, but that purpose remains unknown.
Yosemite is certainly among the greatest listening parks, if
for no other reason than John Muir left a wonderful heritage of sound
recordings through his journals, and we can 
quickly navigate to places and sounds that will
delight all of our senses.
For example: the water ouzel (Cinclus
mexicanus). He is the mountain streams’ own
darling, the hummingbird of blooming waters, loving rocky ripple-slopes and
sheets of foam as a bee loves flowers, as a lark loves sunshine and meadows...
What may be regarded as the separate songs of the ouzel are exceedingly
difficult of description, because they are so variable and at the same time so
confluent. Though I have been acquainted with my favorite ten years, and during
most of this time have heard him sing nearly every day... The more striking
strains are perfect arabesques of melody, composed of a few full, round notes,
embroidered with delicate trills which fade and melt in long slender cadences.
In general way his music is that of the streams refined and spiritualized. The
deep booming notes of the falls are in it, the trills of rapids, the gurgling of
margin eddies, the low whispering of level reaches, and the sweet tinkle of
separate drops oozing from the ends of mosses and falling into tranquil pools. [listen]
If you read
only one book on nature listening it should be: John Muir: The Eight Wilderness
Discovery Books, Mountaineers, Seattle. Each page contains wonderful recordings
at a time that the world was perhaps its most musical. As “father of the
national parks” Muir’s work carries convincing evidence that the parks were
perceived not just as scenic preserves but as places to conserve the sounds as
well.
Olympic National
Park is close to me for I live in Port Angeles Seattle
I must take a
deep breath when describing
The sailors of old believed that the waves
held clues about the weather to come. The Pacific acts like a large drum that
is beat upon by the barometric pressure changes sending huge vibrations out in
every direction. And the ballet of the spheres creates the tides that tilt the
drum’s edge from the soft, hushing sounds of sand evident at low tide, to the
bone rattling cobblestones of high [listen].
Rialto Beach
Suggestions
for Activities
My first year of teaching I had an elderly woman who
didn’t like the fact that she was loosing her hearing. So she decided that she
would learn how to amplify their hearing and become a better listener. After
just two days she confessed to me that her loss of hearing was not the problem
that she though it was because she had discovered that she had never listened
completely, even when she had perfect hearing, and she was greatly encouraged
by the fact that here was so much new sound to hear even with her hearing
impairment.
If a hearing
aid works for people that are hard of hearing, imagine what it will do for
people who hear normally! The hearing aid that I refer can be any one of a
number of devices that amplify the sounds around you and present them to your
ears over a pair of headphones. These are available from Radio Shack and many
sporting goods stores that carry hunting electronics.
While wearing a
hearing aid, subtle sounds are no longer subtle--a bird singing down the valley
is now a one-man marching band! That trickle of water melting off the snowfield
is now Chinese water torture! These cheap thrills demand attention AND they
give each person a heightened sense of control over the experience. It is
possible to fool with the volume control. It is also possible to direct your
attention in one direction or another. Once subliminal sounds are now heard at
clearly conscious levels.
The best kind
of hearing aid that I can imagine is a field tape recorder because you are only
button push away from preserving memories for a lifetime, and beyond. As an
alternative to photography, the start-up cost is about the same, and the 'film'
is reusable.
A
few practical suggestions
Limit the group size to less than ten persons.
Encourage people to forget about all the brightly colored outdoor cloths that
make colorful snapshots. Most synthetics do not perform well for
listeners—entirely too noisy. If someone wants to know what to buy tell them to
go to an army surplus store where quiet and noise is a matter of life and
death. Remove any Velcro and snaps and replace with ties and buttons, zippers
are acceptable if the interlocking teeth are small and well lubricated. You
should dress warmer than you would otherwise (because you’ll be hiking slower),
don’t use a rain coat, but instead carry an umbrella (you can hold it away from
your ears and also use it as a parabola to collect sounds and send them to your
ears). Turn off the wrist watch alarms. If someone says that they don’t know
how, then have them leave it behind in a safe place.
If possible go
to a place with calm water, like a swamp or pond or even small lake. If it is
early spring when the water is cold and air warm, then the sound will travel
incredible distances (due to the bending of sound through thermal layers). You
can even talk to your class from across the lake under many conditions even if
the lake is a mile or more wide. Dawn and dusk are best times of day because
the wind is generally least likely to be a problem. Any wind that will ripple
calm water will effect sound transmission.
Walk slow and
smooth. Jerky movements or sneaky behavior may be interpreted by wildlife as predatory
behavior. If you find yourself suddenly close to wildlife avoid eye contact.
For most practical applications you will be invisible to wildlife when you
remain motionless, particularly if you make an effort to blend into your
environment; for example, by sitting at the base of a tree with one knee
bent.
Look for objects that resemble the shapes of ears and
musical instruments. Go to them and listen to how the sound quality changes as
you approach the surface of these objects. Go all the way until your head is
touching it. Hollow tree trunks, cliff bases, and forest clearings are all
examples of places that impart hearing advantages by extending the shape of
your outer ear and increasing hearing abilities.
If possible,
follow game trails like deer paths. They depend on their ears to survive and
you can learn a lot by walking in their footsteps. When you come across a
matted area, reach down and touch it with your hand. If it is warm, the deer or
other large mammal probably departed because they heard you coming. Now lay
down yourself and hear how large the area is. What is the farthest sound that
you can hear? What sounds can you hear?
Discourage
people from naming sounds, particularly by applying species names. Just
listen.
Before any
discussions, either on the trail or back at a meeting place, it is worthwhile
to instill in each person the fact that everyone in the group hears
differently, not better or worse. A dramatic demonstration of this is to pick
up a flute. I use a Japanese bamboo flute for my demonstrations.
Place the flute
against your ear and listen to where you are. Now finger the holes one at a
time and listen to the change in sound quality. Put down the flute.
Now look at the
wide variety of ear shapes in the group, now bend one ear slightly (not both).
Note how the sound quality changes, too. There is no question that everyone in
the group hears differently even though we talk about the sounds we hear in
much the same way.
Increasingly I
find that someone in my class has never been in a quiet situation—their world
has always been noisy, until now. Let it be difficult. Don’t rescue 
them.
It is
increasingly common that someone in the class will suffer from a ringing of the
ears, particularly if they have flown recently or taken aspirin. And it is also
likely that everyone that has been in a car in the last week will have a
temporary hearing threshold shift (THTS) and unable to hear some delicate
sounds that will become audible in three days. Some sounds, like the humming of
trees that reflect white water sound, can only be heard after several days on
the trail. It is very likely that someone in the group will have a permanent
hearing threshold shift (PHTS) or noise induced hearing loss (NIHL). Each
participant hears differently no matter what his or her range of hearing
sensitivity.
Ever so often,
someone in the group does not to ‘get it’ and feels left out. This is often
because they have specific expectations about what the experience will be like,
maybe even specific sounds that they are trying to hear but unable to. I had
this very situation one year when a young a man was becoming more and more
alienated from the group. He looked serious most of the time instead of
childish and playful. At the point of concealed tears he confessed to me that
he was doomed because it simply wasn’t happening, and, “never would!”
I told him that
I always cry before making a great sound recording. It seems that I always have
expectations that have been the reasons why I have come to a location, and I
have to let go of them. I must accept where I am for what it is not what I want
it to be. Listening means accepting change and letting go of control over
outcome.
Since we were
already at a creek, I removed from my field bag a large limestone rock that I
had for a later demonstration. It was about the size of grapefruit, with pits
of all sizes. “This is a note,” I said. Now place it in the stream.
He became a
great, original listener, fully confident in his ability to hear what only he
could hear.
The rock was
from the swimming hole at Uncle Quarrel’s place where Mark Twain spent his
childhood summers.
Down a
piece, abreast the house, stood a little log cabin against the rail fence; and
there the wood hill fell sharply away, past the barns, the corn-crib, the
stables and the tobacco-curing house, to a limpid brook which sang over its
gravelly bed and yonder in the deep shade of overhanging foliage and vines—a
divine place for wading, and it had swimming pools, too, which were forbidden
to use. For we were little Christian children and had early been taught the
value of forbidden fruit. (Source: The Autobiography of Mark Twain) I located the site in ’92 after a good deal of
research in
Much of our
sonic world remains unheard or forgotten. And of all the questions that we
might answer there is only one that I don’t seem to have a clue, “How did we
ever stop listening to the land?”
Photo Credits: Gordon Hempton
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