D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
August 2009
Sounds of the Wild
Listen in on Larry's recollections of soothing, exciting, weird and scary sounds from a lifetime outdoors.
Have you ever thought, I mean really thought, about all of the sounds around you at any given moment, especially when you are out of doors? I got to thinking about that question and found that I could categorize all sorts of noises and sounds. Most I enjoy; some I don't.
First there are the sounds that soothe me. Absolutely the number-one sound for making me feel good is the sound made by water doing some kind of activity; the sounds of rain pattering on a tent roof or a metal patio roof are my favorites. Right behind those would be a trickling brook or a gentle waterfall.
Alongside of those sounds would be the crackling of a juniper-wood campfire as it snaps and sizzles. On a dark, moonless night that affects me in a serene sort of way.
Then there is the category of everyday sounds, like the constant singing and chirping of birds everywhere emitted from dawn till dusk. Or how about the raspy call of ravens forever flying overhead? We've all heard those.
Who of us living in the Southwest can ever ignore the summer sounds of the incessant cicadas calling, calling, calling?
The weirdest and saddest sound that I have ever heard is the howling of a wolf. I was standing on a high and remote ridge right on the border of Arizona and New Mexico back about two years before they released the tame ones to the wild. It was right at dawn and a coyote pack sounded off as they were separating for their daytime sleep.
Right in the middle of their howling, a lone, deep, mournful howl broke the dawn just below me. That howl shut the coyote pack down completely and made the hair on my neck stand erect! Did I mention that this was two years before the first wolf release? Believe me, there was no mistaking that sound for one from a coyote!
Probably the other weirdest sound that I've heard was made by a cougar in the dark of the night — it, too, was unnerving! I know it made me sit up, watch and listen!
Speaking of odd sounds, have you ever heard the raspy cooing of the collard dove family? It is one unusual sound until you place its origin.
There are comforting sounds out there, too: the quiet, subdued coo of the mourning dove, or the summer mating call of the male Gambel's quail. When I hear the quail I know that all is well in my surroundings.
The most haunting sound of the wild in New Mexico is from sandhill cranes as they fly in V-formations in the dark overhead. There are thousands and thousands of them forever calling in search of who knows what. In fact, the only sound I find personally more haunting I heard in the Adirondacks of New York, and that was of the loon.
Some sounds really, really excite me to the very marrow and core of my bones. I never, ever get tired of hearing a mighty turkey gobble lustily as he comes to my poor imitations of a lovesick hen bird. In fact, any time I hear a turkey gobble, even a tame one in a cage, I'm absolutely thrilled!
How can I explain the shrill call of a lovesick bull elk in heat? Here is an 800- pound beast making this gut-wrenching, guttural, raspy cough that elongates into a high and shrill scream-whistle with many notes. There is nothing like it in all of the world.
The yips and howls of a pack of coyotes gathering in the dusk to hunt thrill me, too, because the sounds stimulate the predator-hunter in my own being. Sometimes I wish I could run with the pack!
There are other sounds of the wild, too: the distant sound of a hard wind as it approaches through the trees of the forest with increasing ferocity, or how about the cautious footfall in the night as you lie in a sleeping bag with absolutely no walls of substance to protect you? Who hasn't heard those!
The funniest sound I ever heard happened as I sat on a remote tank of water, and two enormous bulls walked up and into the water, belly deep. They proceeded to slurp loudly as they drank — long, deep slurps accompanied by sounds emitted from the opposite end of their giant bodies as they peed and pooped in the very water they were drinking!
I've reserved the last category of sounds for the end, because they are the ones that impressed me the most — the scary and frightening ones!
This past spring my friend Goz and I were high on a ridge riding our ATVs when a thunderstorm caught us flat-footed. We pulled under two juniper trees to wait it out, when all of a sudden there came upon us the flash-bang of a lightning bolt. We both jumped and the look on Goz's face was priceless, as probably was mine.
We left right there and then. I gassed the machine recklessly as another bolt almost landed on us and hail, sleet and rain pelted us mercilessly.
The first time I heard a rattlesnake up close and personal was hair-raising, too. The big snake was close to my feet and scared the living daylights out of me. I had the same reaction to hearing the incessant buzz of an angry yellowjacket hornet hive. I looked down in horror to find that my left foot was plumb center on the entrance to their hive. Yikes!
Have you ever heard the sickening crack of tinder-dry wood from a thick, dead tree trunk, as it finally decides to break from a dose of too much wind? I have, and yes a tree does make a great, loud noise in the woods when it falls! Especially when it nearly falls on you!
I've been caught in a flash flood, and the chocolate-brown breakers that roared past me sounded like a freight train.
Then there was the whine of a bullet passing close over my head as I sat in the forest. It made me very uncomfortable! I couldn't get out of there fast enough.
A javelina herd popping their teeth in anger as they rush towards me was quite disconcerting, too — enough so to make me sit very, very still until the threat passed close by me. It certainly got my attention!
But the number-one, absolutely most terrifying sound that I've ever heard in the woods happened to me as I walked up to, and by, the window of what I thought was a deserted cabin in a remote valley. I went to peer in when I heard the unmistakable "snick-snick" of the hammer on a 30-30 lever-action rifle being thumbed back.
I coolly sauntered past without so much as a side-glance while my body sweated buckets in the cool morning air. Whew!
As always, keep the sun forever at your back, the wind forever in your face, and may the Forever God bless you too.
When not ramblin' outdoors, Larry Lightner lives and listens in Silver City.