Night Sounds
It is 3:00 in the morning and I am inexplicably awake. The ivory half moon has disappeared beneath the horizon for the night to be replaced by incandescent stars. They seem to be able to own their identity a bit more willingly without the moon and I can easily pick out their mythological namesakes amongst the milky way. My primitive eyes search the darkness ineffectively and I decide to lie on my back and devote myself to the night sounds instead. The rhythmic idling of insects seem to have an infinite supply of energy as they wail through the night, stopping suddenly all at once. It is as if their livelihood has been suddenly threatened and they hope that silence will hide their location. Their is a scuffling near the dry riverbed which sounds like feathers and claws, but without a shriek of defeat or a growl of victory, I cannot be sure of their source. There seems to be stoic beauty to night in the wilderness where the circuitous ecosystem of eat or be eaten is ever present. A cool breeze playfully ruffles the leaves on the top of a Nyala Berry Tree that hangs over my bed. I strain my ears as the harmonica of leaves and twigs fades to nothing. Perhaps a kilometer away I can hear the mourn of lions. A new pride is being formed in the darkness, and the negotiations of territory and boundaries are being established while I try to sleep. There is no rest here. Closer, I hear a noise that erupts from deep in the belly of what I imagine must be a powerful black-maned lion. I can picture his authoritative arrogance, as his huge padded footprints are driven into the sand with the strain of each roar. His forelegs are twisted knots of muscle and his tarnished eyes are locked in defiance as he watches over his kingdom. Confidence, it seems, counts for so much out here. His calls collect a rasp of responses, and they eclipse every other night sound. The other lions seem to force out their cries over an over, reaching a cacophony of three or four final spent pants. Closer, I hear the rumble of an elephant that challenges the lions' tirade on the night, just to make sure that they know who is really in charge. My own voice is insignificant here and I feel like a intruder to a world that I do not fully understand and at which I can only marvel. The world reverts to silence, an intermission before the next performance, and I am glad that I am awake to bear witness to it.
0 Comments
|
ContentSome thoughts about things, sometimes philosophical, sometimes just musings. The world through my eyes... Archives
March 2023
Categories
All
|