In the dark, my eyes are my weakest sense, which is contrary to my usual daytime wanderings. With my ears, I heard the activity of those that sleep in the day. With my nose, I smelled the cool damp of night. With my touch, I felt more deeply the texture of the world. I saw less with my eyes, but I used them in a way I do not normally get to. My vision provided an outline of my surroundings, allowing me to use my other senses to gather the information my eyes would normally provide.
The place I chose was a mixed Northern Hardwood forest with many Sugar Maples in the canopy and American Beech in the understory. A sparse fall canopy would allow us to see the night sky. Although circumstance did not allow for a moonless night, the sky was mostly clear. After about an hour, clouds moved in and blocked the stars and the bright quarter moon. The air was chilly and the closer you got to the ground the damper it felt. Like a kiss on the cheek, the damp forest floor pushes against the face so softly. A tingle in the nose and coolness on the skin that I don’t feel anywhere else.
The following essay is a timeline of my observations and experience in the woods on one chilly night. A story.
Record
Under a large maple, on a hill under a starry sky, we sat facing north and listened. The wind died and the leaves went still. We didn’t notice the still air until the silence began. Just for a moment was it completely still, and so were we. A gust of wind, lagging behind, twitched the stiff leaves and I shifted. I thought I could hear something in the leaves a couple of yards away. The wind died again. Silence. More silence. A scratch and a rustle of leaves by the base of a tree not 20 feet away. We could not see what it was, but it sounded small and low. I shifted again and everything went quiet. Assuming it was a mouse or vole we hesitantly waited for more sound, but there was none for several minutes. Once again a rustle in the leaves at the base of the same tree. We decided it must be a mouse or vole. We assumed the little creature could both see and hear us. Whatever it was carried on with its business paying no mind to the strange humans sitting in the dark by yonder tree. We sat and listened to the little fellow pause and then move a little. Then pause, then move some more. Eventually, the animal moved on to a nearby tree and repeated the pattern of stillness and movement. It spent less time at the following trees than the first one.
When there was still some remaining light I had seen the tree the mouse had started at. It was a relatively old tree with a hollowed out bit at the base were rot had eaten away at the wood. Was that his home? Was there a little mouse home in that tree? What was the creature doing? Was it looking for food? What food? What other life did the tree provide sanctuary for? What other nocturnal occupants might emerge? Might birds be sleeping in the branches?
We sat for what felt like an hour and heard a few more rustles in the leaves and the continuous sound of falling leaves. At first, the sound of falling leaves coming to rest among the others was startling, but after a while, I began to forget them. The sound of a dry leaf falling from a branch was different from the sound of leaves being moved by a living being. A twig falling from a tree versus a twig snapping underfoot is different when you listen to both without a visual cue. I got better at picking the sounds apart from one another and started to try to tell how far away they were from where we were sitting.
Suddenly, I was jolted from concentration when an owl called to the west of us and we jump – again startling the small animal nearby which scurried back to the original tree. A couple of silent seconds and another called from the south. Back and forth they went until they struck up a fast-paced, eerie duet. We sat enchanted. The Barred owls carried on for several minutes and then fell silent. Seconds rolled into minutes. Again came the sound of an owl, but from the southwest and then another joined in from the northwest. As they called and sang together, I noticed differences between the two individuals. The tone of the individual who had struck up the chorus was higher than that of the second. The tempo was slightly different, but the pattern and type of calls were the same or similar.
Who was this pair, whose territory we were visiting? Did they know we were there? What is the purpose of their conversation tonight? We ruled out a mating ritual as it was too early, but there was clearly some type of communication. Was it a ritual, or a song? Were they greeting each other? The sound they made was akin to the sound of monkeys yelling at each other in the treetops of some distant jungle. It brought a smile to my face as the tune felt joyful and even playful. The freedom of these creatures filled me with happiness and the impending fragility of their – and my own – world saddened me.
I had been so enthralled by the creepy ballad that I had not noticed the light footsteps nearby. I paused waiting to hear it again. It did not sound like the feet that were doing the walking were large. I was frightened, so I listened. They sounded careful and slow. However, the steps were further apart than a small animal, and there was little disturbance of the leaves. A noise was made only with the placement of a foot. Peering between the trees to my right, I caught a glimpse of movement. Was it a coyote? I hoped not. We were certain it wasn’t a bear or any type of large cat. It sounded like a deer. A figure came in to view, a slender-legged doe was indeed picking her way through the understory. The moonlight hitting her back and shining as she made her way closer. I had found the game trail before we situated ourselves under this tree and this was why. We watched as she passed very near to where we were sitting and then swallowed by the trees. My attention returned to the owls who had moved further away. Eventually, the owls’ duet faded as they got further away and then stopped altogether.
The structure of the forest that I was able to observe, prior to the falling of darkness, indicated that it was likely cleared for agriculture at some point, then was allowed to become reforested in the mid-1900s. I was curious about where I sat. What is the history of this place? Who has been here and what did they see? I will most likely not find answers to my questions in the dark, and that is okay.
My vision slowly improved as we sat and listened to the nocturnal activity around us. I could only make out rough shapes and lines in a grayscale. The deep blue-purple of the sky – which was the only color I could discern – contrasted with the black branches above. The dark gray clouds had silver linings created by moonlight shining through the thinner parts of the cloud. The longer we sat, the more clouds moved in. A mottled blanket of varying thickness lay over the land. The backlit clouds let little light through but were lit up themselves. Glowing moonlight illuminated the thin patches and framed the dense clusters. It was marvelous to behold. Seated on the forest floor the dark towering trees seemed to loom over us like a cage. As my eyes adjusted, we could make out more detail further away. It was interesting to see how far we could see even in the dark. The fairly open forest allowed for light to bounce around and illuminate a lot – which wasn’t necessarily helpful for this exercise. However, we enjoyed the extra light. Time passed very slowly once we sat down, but seemed faster once I looked back at the time I had spent sitting under the tree. Whether the time went by quickly or slowly, it was time well spent.
Analyze
It was strange acclimating to the bright light of the phone as my timer went off and I pulled it out of my pocket. It was like everything around me disappeared and my whole view was the phone. My ears stopped working and all I could see was the light of the screen. Even on its lowest setting, the screen hurt my eyes. The walk back was lit by a bright flashlight. My eyes could only see what was in the beam, everything else was pitch black. Once back in the car, the interior lights made the surrounding world look so much darker than it really was. The engine turned over and a low rumble filled the space around me. I realized that, while in the dark of the trees, my ears had focused on one sound at a time, just like my eyes might in the daytime. It was hard to listen to many things at once. My attention focuses both hearing and vision, and my mind can fool both. This made me think about what other senses my brain can fool. My sense of smell as well as taste, which is influenced by smell, but what about touch? If a person has no nerve damage or chemicals influencing their nerves, would this be the most reliable sense? If my eyes and ears failed me, could I still identify things by touch?
The sound of animals and plants shifting is much more noticeable when you cannot see where the sound is coming from. It can be frightening to not know what is making noise near you. However, without being able to see the cause, we are better able to pinpoint a location and the nature of the sound. Leaves rubbing against a branch as one tree sways can be very alarming if you are not accustomed to the sound. The sound of “ rustling leaves” is very generic and can be caused by many things: wind, a squirrel, footsteps, a bird, shifting of a tree, falling leaves. The list goes on. However, each cause may slightly change the tone or pattern of the “rustle.” Picking out these differences is easier in the dark when you can focus on the sound itself. A twig snapping underfoot, for instance, is a more unexpected sound than a twig snapping because it broke from the tree.
The time spent moving through the trees as mainly spent touching trees. I wanted to identify them using only my touch – which was hard. Some were easy because of the shape they grew in that I could see as I approached. I found that it was harder to identify a tree by the bark than it was by the buds or remaining leaves. An American Beech bud is very distinctive, while the bark of a maple is always odd. I discovered more about the structure of the tree by touch than I would have if I was able to view it in the light. The dark dims your vision but allows you to see with your other senses and to use them all.
In the darkness, I paid more attention to smells. The way the air felt rushing through my nose and the sensation I got from it. Thoughts came to mind of cold, sharp, damp, and brown. I feel that the air we breathe can never be described with a single word. The decomposing leaves gave the air the brown smell of damp, while the chill of the night gave it a sharp cold smell. The smell of a tree was different between individuals. When else would I think to smell a tree, apart from when my eyes are failing me?
The sounds I heard are not out of place in the daylight, but I paid attention to them while sitting in the dark. The trees that creak in the sunshine also creaks at night. The forest is not less active at night, it does not sleep because the sun has set. Things happen at night that no one will ever see in the daylight. Flying squirrels, owls, raccoons, opossums, and bats are not creatures that are commonly spotted in the light. They are creatures of the night and the dark, if we wish to see them, in the dark is where we must do it.
Recording not captured during the actual Darkness Event, but earlier in 2018.
Image and recording: Shelton, Sadie 2018