Be Quiet And Listen

The things that we don't hear greatly outnumber the things that we hear. Last Saturday I went on a field trip for my Master Naturalist class. We went up to Chippoaks State Park for a session on birds.

The first thing that we did was listen for birds and then seek to locate them by sound. I realized something shocking. As much time as I spend in the woods, the only birds that I hear/notice are crows, owls, hawks, whippoorwills, and quail.

As we stood there silently I noticed, as if hearing them for the first time, a chorus of little birds of a variety of species.  Over the years my mind drowned out those sounds and replaced them with the sound of everything else going on in my life.

I have found a similar situation with trees and plants. As I began cutting in Jacob's Woods I noticed some small trees that I had never seen before. They tended to grow at an angle instead of growing up right. The wood had a pleasant fruity smell.

I wondered what the tree was and how this species could have  somehow ended up on my land. After I noticed the first few of them I came to realize that there were hundreds of these trees in the 17 acres that make up Jacob's Woods. I have been riding past them for nearly twenty years. I had hunted in those woods for 25 years before that.

I had never noticed those trees.

Then I started finding them in every hardwood forest that I rode through. They not only were not rare, they were prolific.

And I had never noticed them before.

Which brings us to a special gift that riding donkeys can give us. A donkey walks fast enough  so that one feels the wonderful sensation of movement, but trots and canters slow enough to allow for complete observation of the sights and sounds that fill the woods. On a horse, especially if I am riding in the lead of a group of riding students, I must pay extreme attention to any threat, real or imagined, that could spook any of the horses on the ride. I have to focus on the trail to make sure that the footing is sound.

I do not have to be concerned about a donkey spooking. I can pay much less attention to the soundness of the footing. I can see things in the woods that I do not see on a horse. I can hear things in the woods that I do not hear on a horse.

It bothers me to know that Colonial Spanish Horses are so rare that only a fraction of a percent of horse owners ever get to see one, much less ride one. The number of people who ever get the chance to ride a large, well trained donkey is infinitesimal.

I have a lot of work to do this morning, but my plans are changing as I write. Before I go into the office this morning, I think that this would be a great time to go quietly ride donkeys with my granddaughter and be quiet and listen as we slip silently through the woods.