So, a couple of nights ago I woke up in the middle of the night from some strange noises outside the window. Two of the cats were extremely curious with their little noses against the window screens. I figured it was some coyotes sniffing around, but the cats didn't seems afraid at all and the noises were more like grunting and rooting around. Curious as I am I got up and tried to see out the window (there are no street lights in this town) and saw only shadows. There were several of what ever they were out there so I turned on the porch light and what do I see? A family of about 5 -7 huge pigs, or what I find out the following day, javalinas. The were just rooting around in the dirt next to the gravel and walking around as if it was their absolute perfect place, unafraid. And even with the porch light and a strong flash light shone upon them they just moseyed on calmly.
I am from northern Europe where we don't have such animals and I feel like I am in such an exotic place with all of this. What does it all mean??? It is a thrill to be so close to the wild animal kingdom here in the foothills of Sedona. Every night I am awakened by the large flock of coyotes that hunt around here, by their haunting and eery singsong echoing amongst these cliffs as if they were in a fancy recording studio. I wish to record these sounds. They are truly otherworldly and beautiful. There have been other places where nature sounds really called to me.
In Santa Barbara, I lived on the Sycamore creek on the east side, and each night during spring the creek's hundreds of frogs would begin to sing to the moon and it was magnificently loud and one would think disturbing, but the sound lulled us all into the deepest of sleeps. I miss that sound. It was beautiful. Or in the north of Sweden, in the fall, all the crows would caw outside in the tree tops at my grandparents farm, loud and lulling. Or the howling of the wolf in the far distance or the hooing of the owls back an forth. On Hawaii, it was the sound of the dolphins and the whales deep under water that moved me. At the beach we used to let ourselves sink down to the bottom of the ocean about 10 - 15 feet under the surface of the water and one could hear the sounds of both, the sound traveling miles on the bottom, on the sand. And of course, the night birds in Los Angeles, in Mar Vista. In the absolute stillness of the night one bird in the grove of some trees across the street singing so purely and all alone. How can one sleep? And on Gomera, in the Canary Islands of Spain, the strange sea birds that one never saw because they flew out to sea every morning to fish and didn't return to the cliffs until after night fall. They were huge, like eagles and made a totally otherworldly sound, loud and calling. I don't remember their name. But a strange call it was, loud since there were hundreds. And, of course, on any place on the coast, seagulls. A lovely sound, so comforting. I love the wild, always did.
I am from northern Europe where we don't have such animals and I feel like I am in such an exotic place with all of this. What does it all mean??? It is a thrill to be so close to the wild animal kingdom here in the foothills of Sedona. Every night I am awakened by the large flock of coyotes that hunt around here, by their haunting and eery singsong echoing amongst these cliffs as if they were in a fancy recording studio. I wish to record these sounds. They are truly otherworldly and beautiful. There have been other places where nature sounds really called to me.
In Santa Barbara, I lived on the Sycamore creek on the east side, and each night during spring the creek's hundreds of frogs would begin to sing to the moon and it was magnificently loud and one would think disturbing, but the sound lulled us all into the deepest of sleeps. I miss that sound. It was beautiful. Or in the north of Sweden, in the fall, all the crows would caw outside in the tree tops at my grandparents farm, loud and lulling. Or the howling of the wolf in the far distance or the hooing of the owls back an forth. On Hawaii, it was the sound of the dolphins and the whales deep under water that moved me. At the beach we used to let ourselves sink down to the bottom of the ocean about 10 - 15 feet under the surface of the water and one could hear the sounds of both, the sound traveling miles on the bottom, on the sand. And of course, the night birds in Los Angeles, in Mar Vista. In the absolute stillness of the night one bird in the grove of some trees across the street singing so purely and all alone. How can one sleep? And on Gomera, in the Canary Islands of Spain, the strange sea birds that one never saw because they flew out to sea every morning to fish and didn't return to the cliffs until after night fall. They were huge, like eagles and made a totally otherworldly sound, loud and calling. I don't remember their name. But a strange call it was, loud since there were hundreds. And, of course, on any place on the coast, seagulls. A lovely sound, so comforting. I love the wild, always did.
