Super Crone

I mentioned that book about the sounds of nature yesterday, and though I haven’t actually got as far as hearing about hearing, I am all the more excited about it. I’ll tell you why.

So, the Trust gave me a health check which was basically me saying nothing hurts and then a hearing test. I’d never had a hearing test and was sort of excited and nervous. The sounds were very quiet - like whining insects and very distant underground bleeps - and I thought I was doing badly.

At the end, the guy said, "At your age, you must score 111 or below to have acceptable hearing."

I was terrified.

"What was my score?" I asked.

"Minus five," he said.

MINUS FIVE!!! It turns out that I am like an 18 year old with exceptionally good hearing!!!

No wonder I want headphones and stuff at work turned down all the time. No wonder I hate loud music or loads of people talking together - my hearing is particularly good in the range humans speak at.

I am a super woman!

I said, "Can I do a victory lap?"

The guy said, "Er, ok… "

So I ran around the room pumping my fists.

When I was young, I was sure I could hear bats - I bet I bloody could as well.

No wonder I hear trees talk when no one else does. I’m not crazy: I have a fucking SUPER POWER!!!!

Of course, I wanted to put it to the test.

On my first walk and copse-exploration since the test, I was particularly attuned to the sounds of my own passage. I am not exactly subtle. When I stood or squatted still and listened, I noticed not just the obvious birdsong – territorial song and alarm calls – but the little contact cheeps, as I mentioned yesterday, and the slight rustlings in the undergrowth.

Now I think of it, when Bob is around, I hear his wing beats loudly, while the crows seem to fly more quietly… interesting. Their broad wings with the rounded fingers do bear some similarity to owls’… Pigeons you always hear.

The other day, I was in the garden standing still when a squirrel came through the hedge, ran along the fence toward me and jumped onto a branch right near my head on his way past. He’d thought I’d have already laid nuts on the box where I feed the mouse and was looking for them. He seemed not to notice me because I was still.

I am aware that movement as much as - or, in this case, rather than - presence is a trigger – which is why little prey animals freeze in the hope they will not be seen by predators. Of course, they also try not to be heard. But what I am imagining here is a world where sound and movement matter more than distinct objects in the environment… an experience that seems very different from ours.

It reminds me of my feeling of different beings all around me when I am in the woods, as I attribute agency to every blown leaf in my peripheral vision and swing toward the movement.

Spending more time out there, being rather than doing... it's an exploration of consciousness... of changing my psychology away from collecting and organising and back toward sensing and experiencing... getting retuned to the processes of the more-than-human world.