When we got married, I knew Jon wanted to retire in the Northwoods. I passed it off as an elusive dream because I thought we would never be able to afford it. That was OK because I had absolutely no desire to ever move Up North. Cue John Lennon: Life is what happens while you’re making other plans.
Long story, but in 1993, we became the proud owners of 87 acres and an old cabin on the Townsend Flowage. Since over a third of the acreage lies underwater, by Wisconsin statute you own it as much as we do. We get a break on property taxes for that as well as for 40 acres we consigned to the Managed Forest Woodland program. When a friend, Jim Kingsbury, found out we were MFL participants, he treated us to a membership in the Wisconsin Woodland Owners Association.
That was a thoughtful and much-appreciated gift, and we have renewed our membership every year since. We value the WWOA (wisconsin.woodland.owners.association@cc.uwsp.edu) because it is an eclectic group of property owners devoted to “creating tomorrow’s woodlands today.” Some are huge landowners that are “cropping” in the forests. Some are smaller; planting, harvesting, and reforesting their land as a hobby or side gig. Many, like us, have small parcels but are nevertheless committed to the cause.
One of the best perks of paying WWOA dues arrives in my inbox every Monday morning: Start the Week by Learning Something New. Each installment is meticulously researched and written by a paid staffer hired for a year as part of the AmeriCorps program. The articles are always worth reading, both for the topic choice as well as the writing quality. This week’s column, “Discourse Among the Trees-Psithurism” by Kristen Summers, was in a class of its own and would definitely merit an A+ from this retired English teacher.
Kristen began by defining psithurism as the sound of leaves rustling as the wind moves through the trees. Really? There’s a name for that? There is. She explained that some folks have compared the sound to a musical performance; a symphony, nature’s lullaby, arboricultural acoustics, a sighing melody, or distant applause. I especially liked this observation: “To my ears, it’s more of a conversation of sorts, the trees sharing years of accumulated wisdom, and it’s there for us to soak up, if we’re willing to take the time to listen.” Stunningly accurate on so many levels.
As evidence that each species of tree has its own distinguished sound, Kristen quoted Elizabeth J. Eames, a 19th century poet: “Each majestic old tree; hath its own peculiar tone and whisper for thine ear.” She also noted that biologist, professor and author David G. Haskell claims to be able to tell the difference between an oak and a maple by ear and says a tree’s voice changes from season to season. Who knew?
I was quite surprised to learn that people all across the globe have captured sounds being emitted by trees on windless days. They have even recorded the movement of water passing through the vascular system of their trunks. Whether or not you believe the trees are truly talking, there is a lesson in physics here because they actually do vary in their psithurism tones. The wind’s velocity and direction as it moves through the canopy generates different amplifications. The leaf or needle shape and size also factor into the equation.
After reading Kristen’s article, I put away my laptop and went out on the deck. It was a beautiful fall morning with virtually no wind, the perfect time to go see for myself. I walked deep into our woods, chose a quiet spot, sat on a boulder, and listened. Really listened. It took a bit of serious concentration before I heard it. Oh my God. Despite the fact that there was no wind, there was a distinct sound coming from the trees.
I listened for several minutes, laboring unsuccessfully to find the right words to describe it. On my way back to the house, it came to me: the sound of a baby’s almost imperceptible breathing when they fall asleep on your shoulder. I rushed home to tell Jon. He wasn’t at all surprised, saying he had experienced the same thing while hunting, Wait, what? He never told me that. “Why would I?” he said when I asked him about it. “I figured you already knew that.”
I didn’t, but thanks to Kristen’s article, I learned something new and wonderful and fascinating that I just had to share, along with a picture-perfect question that she quoted from Sproutlet. “If you’re not paying attention to trees and how they sway in the wind, then what are you even doing?”
What indeed.
Kathleen Marsh is a lifelong educator, writer, and community advocate. She has published eight books, four on the history of Townsend, where she and husband Jon are happily retired on the beautiful Townsend Flowage.
If a tree falls in the woods, it’ll tell you
