Since beginning this blog earlier in the year, a recurring theme of mine has been finding solace in nature during uncertain times. Here’s my latest take.

The only human made sounds I can hear are the occasional rumbling of a plane taking off from nearby Charles Schultz Airport, otherwise this tranquil eddy along the bank of the Russian River is as quiet as can be. Whenever I come here I’m amazed at the absence of human made sounds, especially since I’m only 15 minutes away from the 101 freeway and tens of thousands of other people.

The rasping chit chit of a Stellar’s Jay occasionally punctuates the stillness. A Belted Kingfisher chatters past me on its way upriver. The distant kree-kraw of a crow is like a rumor in the distance. An enormous Great Blue Heron flies by as silent as a dream. A few moments ago a grey squirrel flew through the trees above, letting me know in no uncertain terms that I was a visitor in its home. The piercing call of a Northern Flicker echoes through the forest from across the river, a peaceful clarion call reminding all who care to listen that autumn is here for a while. A tiny Bewick’s Wren, white eye streaks like a mask and tail feathers pointing straight up offers a chipper greeting from its perch on a willow branch.

Silence is the blank canvas upon which all of these animals leave their brushstrokes. Their sounds, each one unique, are the hues that combine to create this tranquil aural masterpiece. It’s like a Monet painting for the ears. In order to “hear” this painting I’ve got to tune into its frequency and find the silence within myself, the blank canvas so to speak. It is so soothing coming to this place where there are only whispers. It’s an opportunity to recharge my batteries and a reminder that there are still refuges of silence and beauty in the world.

An enormous fish jumps and temporarily rouses me from my reverie. I just miss seeing its body but I know it’s big because the splash is so loud. I turn my head just in time to watch the ripples spread silently towards the shore, one by one by one; a broad stroke followed by ever lighter touches of the brush. Also adding its brushstrokes to this canvas now is a river otter, sleek and shining, its brown body glistens in the afternoon sun. Every few yards up it pops for a breath of air and a look around. As it heads downriver each of its dives creates a curlicue of sound, another color in the palette. A pair of ducks, Hornbilled Grebes, glide across the river’s mirror-like surface. Perfectly white butterflies dip and spin against a background of green plants growing on the far bank. At the center of it all is the river, flowing almost imperceptibly to the sea. These last few sounds are too faint for the human ear to perceive but they nevertheless are contributing their subtle tones to this masterwork.

Unlike the traditional painting made with brush and pigment this picture is unconstrained by canvas and frame. It’s an ongoing creation, a boundless work in progress. There was no beginning, hopefully there will be no end.