Note: Max wrote this essay for one of his classes at UC just 6 days before he died. It was in one sense just homework. I likely would have never read it under other circumstances, which is too bad. I publish it here in hopes of providing some insight into one aspect of the man that was Max.
I am currently living in Lafayette situated slightly off the beaten path from Boulder to Denver. When thinking about what kind of soundscape I wanted to explore I considered several of the options around me. I thought of the flea market, a main street of a small town, or a quiet neighborhood at night, but I ultimately settled on a patch of land deemed "open space". It is an unchanged area situated between neighborhoods adjacent to the fence line of farmland. A nearly dried up creek runs through the center crossed by a small boardwalk that completes a loop around the entirety of the space. In one part the park is an open plain, sparsely populated with plants and dominated by prairie dogs. The other half is marshy, full of tall grass and cattails, and trees host to families of birds. I chose to sit on top of a drain trunnel poking out over the creek where the marsh was beginning to turn into grassland.
Almost immediately after sitting down and residing to silence I felt a sense of calm come over me when taking in the sound around me. In that moment everything seemed to stop being about me and what I had to do that day, what I was feeling, etc. Instead, I was thinking about the lives completely separate to my own passing by in an infinite drone of white noise generated by thousands of engines. The pitch oscillating ever so slightly in the wind would have made it hard to know where it was coming from, if I had not known which way the highway was. This noise is something I think nearly everyone living in proximity to a city knows. The noise in this particular area was not immediately noticeable, but still permeates the soundscape as if it was coming from far above. At times cars on the road about a quarter mile behind where I sat would escape the drone becoming individual as they passed behind me eventually rejoining the choir of engines. Some louder than others, growling and popping as they accelerated from a stop until reaching a consistent tone, seemingly increasing in frequency as they sped off. The drone from the highway was oddly comforting, maybe because it was familiar, but it was also a bit melancholy. It's a constant reminder of humanity and how the consequences of our progression and expansion are inescapable. It's a really conflicted feeling because on the one hand we benefit from all the things that create society yet we loose touch with nature and the serenity of life free of movement. Squeaking tires and honking horns ended this thought process quickly and replaced it with a simple feeling of mild annoyance. I then turned my focus on the animals around me, accepting and allowing the drone to just be.
A magpie sat somewhere hidden in a tree maybe twenty feet from me chirping at random intervals. Occasionally another bird would respond with a high pitched whoop, starting low and guttural turning into the piercing frequency most birds produce. Sometimes the magpie would produce a sound like an LFO was modulating its volume rapidly. A warble like a pigeon but an octave or two higher. Then there were the prairie dogs which were spread out in the area in front of me at varying distances from fifty to a couple hundred feet. I heard their squeals and yips mainly from my left passing over a small hill that obstructed the source of their calls. If I focused when things fell silent for a moment, I could hear the squeaks coming from far away mixed in with the sound of children at play somewhere across the creek and past the houses that lined the other side of the open space. Something about the mix of birds and prairie dogs brought life to the space, which otherwise felt empty with no one passing by while I spent my time there. I felt like I was a visitor listening to them go about their day, trying to stay unnoticed. The animals were far enough away that I never heard any scurrying or the movement of grass unless affected by the wind. In some ways the prairie dogs reminded me of the drone of cars, except representing land they have claimed and the constant reminder that they exist.
The day I chose to go was the first warm day we had in a while, and the snow had nearly melted by the time I had gotten out there late in the afternoon. The creek was returning to its normal trickle as the ice melted, like a faucet running slowly in order to thaw a frozen dinner. In combination with the chatter of wildlife I felt like this area was awakening from its short slumber returning to its usual business. I thought of an article we read for class "The Sound of life: what Is a soundscape?" and this quote:
"Soundscapes define communities—their boundaries, their actors, their geographic intricacies, and industries. They arise through the interactions between external and internal forces within a community."
I considered if maybe the animals were particularly active today because of the relief of warmth felt after spending days in the cold. The echoing high pitched squeaks of birds and prairie dogs alike were never sad or fearful. They all sounded happy or content because of the way they rounded their voices up like a kazoo. The way they would stretch things out or shout in short bursts was indicative of conversations and play. Rarely did they take a break like a crowd of people enjoying the same environment, talking amongst themselves irrespective of those around them. I also thought of the boundaries to the soundscape created by the open space. They present an area situated within a normally busy region that escapes humanity just enough to allow wildlife a sense of security and freedom. This freedom they took advantage of to interact with each other. The activity surrounding me signified that they were comfortable with the space, but I felt that many of them sought sanctuary there from concrete and brick. Occasionally something would happen that would send the prairie dogs into a frenzy, like a dog barking, and they would begin chirping wildly and repetitively as if warning others or vocalizing uncertainty. I felt like they realized that while it was their land they could easily be dispersed if the civilization around them chose to. I wondered if most animals feel this way about humans, like we are unpredictable creatures capable of incredible compassion or indiscriminate violence. I think that if I was part of the small community within the open space I would feel that way.
By the time my fifteen minutes were up I felt relaxed but ready to return to life. As I headed off to work I reminisced on being slightly displaced from reality for a moment while spending time taking in the activity's of other critters and the nature they occupied. Experiencing the rustling of leaves, chirps and squeaks, birdcalls, and distant sounds of human life all at the same time made it seem like I was in a bubble. I could hear the world hurrying along outside the sanctuary but it was unintelligible and insignificant to things within the bubble. The sounds of human life are one of the main factors driving wildlife to spaces like this one, and probably one of the main reasons we seek out a park too. We spend a lot of time escaping noise without even realizing it. It clears our minds, allows thoughts to saturate, and releases the pressure of needing to do something or go somewhere. I also found it interesting how few unique sounds I actually perceived. Other than being aware of my own existence from the sound of my clothes rustling, and the existence of the nature I was enjoying, the only other noticeable sounds were from vehicles and planes passing by. In my mind this represented the feeling of being in the middle, a spot in between one destination and another. This feeling is representative of small towns and rest stops along intercontinental highways. Something areas outside of the few major cities in the Midwest are very familiar with. I grew up in Ohio so I also felt nostalgic when I experienced this feeling of existing outside of something. Never very exciting in my small hometown but never far away from it either. The highway which was always about fifteen minutes from wherever you were, reminds you that there is more to be seen and experienced. That at any moment you could jump into the flowing river of vehicles and head off to some other world outside of the one you have grown accustomed to. Returning to my car and heading off to work was like this, refreshed by just being in the middle of things for a little bit.