Leaf music: Experiencing nature's autumn soundscape
November is a noisy month. It begins with the din of leaf blowers and ends with loud strains of holiday music. But there are other things to hear in between. You just have to listen.
Take leaf music, for example. It's made not just by the leaves, but by the things that live in the leaves as well.
We're well into November, yet today I heard ground crickets chirping faintly from a leafy refuge at the edge of the woods.
Eternal optimists, these little insects have toughed out not one, but several frosts - and they're still singing. One night last week a snowy tree cricket perched on an oak leaf at the edge of my driveway. Ethereal and ghostlike, she sat listening for her own kind of leaf music - hoping for just one male to call.
There were no "snowys," but there was a male katydid singing his swan song - a slow, melancholy number signaling his departure. Singing backup was a coyote some distance away in the woods.
I wouldn't have heard any of this had I not listened.
Leaf music goes largely unnoticed by people in the suburbs. Maybe because we're so busy getting rid of them that we don't stop to listen. It seems that leaves are a thing to be conquered at this time of year, not appreciated, and certainly not listened to.
The crickets I heard were using leaves as band shells - and shelter. Dead leaves are full of life.
Earlier this month, the soundscape was punctuated by frog calls. Amazing, yes, but some frogs still belt out a tune - or at least a note - on autumn days. And there are birds.
Fall birds lack the bravado they had during spring courtship, but they call to each other nonetheless. They're quiet, yet lively. You may hear brown creepers, pine siskins, and goldfinches calling in the trees this month.
Then, there's the November wind. Gusty and cold, it is an exacting conductor of leaf music. Any leaves that still cling to branches must sing. Oak leaves in one key, pine needles another. The lyrics have something to do with the summer gone by, and a lot to do with the winter ahead. Well worth the listen.
How often do you really hear this music? It's easy not to hear it because there's a lot of competition for attention. The noise of motors and engines is constant, and televisions blare in every waiting room and restaurant.
There's the omnipresence of our phones. Our ears are remarkably attuned to these electronic devices. We react like Pavlov's dog to ring tones and electronic dings and beeps. But we don't hear a rustle in the leaves or insects in the night. We're also used to blocking out sounds - with ear buds, for example, which create a noise of their own.
The key to appreciating the natural soundscape is to listen. Listening is almost a lost art, though, and natural soundscapes are rare.
The art of listening may be lost for some, but it can be relearned. It requires being still, of course, and this is a challenge. November is not known as a time for being still outside, or inside, for that matter. But you can find stillness even if you're walking. Walking on a trail outdoors is more conducive to the listening kind of stillness than, say, walking in the mall.
If this all seems new-agey, it's really old-age. Our ancestors had to know how to listen to the leaves. It could mean the difference between being predator or prey. They had to know how to read the music of animals as well.
I've heard that in the old days, people kept crickets as "watch dogs." Instead of barking at an intruder, the crickets would suddenly stop singing. The silence was enough to signal danger. You had to know how to listen.
Stillness is a state of mind. In a convenient positive feedback loop, listening helps us be still, and stillness helps us listen.
"The daily practice of listening develops in each one of us a conscious physical, emotional and mental relationship to the environment," wrote Hildegard Westerkamp in the Journal of Acoustic Ecology. (Yes, there is a field of study entirely dedicated to the ecology of sound.) It's all about connections: ears, brain, heart and soul.
Soon we'll be gearing up for the holidays, and there's not much stillness ahead. But spending even a moment being quiet in a natural surrounding can do wonders. There's an acoustic aesthetic in the natural soundscape that far exceeds the holiday music in the mall. Outside, you will hear leaf music, wind music, and much more. Even snowflakes will be music to your ears.
Forest preserves are wonderful places to listen to natural soundscapes. For a list of forest preserves near you, visit www.kaneforest.com.
• Valerie Blaine is a naturalist with the Forest Preserve District of Kane County. You may reach her by emailing blainevalerie@kaneforest.com.