Songs of Snow and Ice

The planet speaks

“There is a way that nature speaks, that land speaks. Most of the time we are simply not patient enough, quiet enough, to pay attention to the story.” – Linda Hogan

If you’ve ever wanted proof that the planet is alive, here it is. Pictured above is Jonna Jinton, a Swedish singer, songwriter, photographer, and filmmaker listening to the ice on the lake near her home in northern Sweden. Click her image to listen to the otherworldly songs the ice sings.

The thing that strikes me about these amazing sounds is how we tend to focus on how they are possible as opposed to asking what the sounds might mean. What could the lake, its waters, the creatures that inhabit it, or the planet itself be trying to say through the voice of the ice?

All living creatures create sound in one way or another. Our particular physiological set-up uses air passing over vocal chords to make sound. Likewise, we hear sounds via sound waves that are transmitted via another clever and rather complicated set-up known as ears. These two systems are both wonderfully ingenious and woefully limited.

I was first humbled to learn just how limited my hearing was while doing research for an article on Townsend's big-eared bats. I knew little about bats at the time, so went looking for someone who could educate me. A friend of a friend eventually introduced me to a bat rehabilitator living in the San Francisco Bay area. She invited me to visit and introduced me to a wide range of bats - pallid bats, big brown bats, hoary bats, little brown bats, and Mexican free-tail bats. She housed them in tall containers with what looked like thin cotton sheets hanging from bars across the tops. The bats clung to the cotton sheets and slept hanging upside down. For those who would eventually be released, there was a screened in wooden aviary where the bats could fly as they healed. She had several permanent residents who could not be released because the injuries they’d sustained made it impossible for them to fly. She introduced me to each of them - telling me their names, personalities, and quirks. It was clear that they were a beloved part of her large and eclectic animal family.

One of the first things she talked to me about was echolocation. North American bats are small insectivores, meaning they eat a wide variety of insects including moths, mosquitoes, corn earworm and armyworm moths, green stink bugs, June beetles, and cucumber beetles. A single bat can eat up to 1,200 mosquito-sized insects every hour, and each bat usually eats 6,000 to 8,000 insects each night. Talk about pest control!

Bats navigate and catch their prey using using a high frequency system called echolocation. The high-pitched sound waves they emit bounce off objects and return an echo that gives the bat information about the object's distance and size. Most bat calls are ultrasonic, meaning pitched at too high a frequency for humans to hear (that is to say the frequency is above c 20 kHz). But the idea that whole conversations were going on all around me was both fascinating and frustrating. I felt like I could be missing out on some terrific bat gossip.

Seeing how interested I was, the rehabber got out a small device called a “Bat Detector,” and invited a Big Brown bat named Chugs to sit in the palm of her hand. Then she turned on the detector and placed it next to Chugs. It immediately began chirping, screeching, and making rhythmic bleeps. “Is that Chugs?” I asked. “Is he talking?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “He’s using his echolocation to check you out.”

“Hi Chugs,” I said bending down to eye level but keeping my distance as she’d instructed. Before she would allow me to visit, I’d had to agree not to touch the bats because I wasn’t vaccinated against rabies. But just looking at those small bright eyes that were so clearly intelligent and curious was enough to make me fall in love.

Later as I was about to leave, she put her hand on my arm and said, “Hold out your hand.” I did as I was told, and she carefully placed a soft cloth across my palm and laid Chugs on top. “If anyone asks this never happened,” she said with a smile.

In my hand Chugs sat quietly, looking quite content. “Hi Chugs,” I whispered, gently stroking the velvet soft fur of his back with the tip of my index finger. In response, his whole body began to vibrate. “He’s purring!” I said, completely entranced.

“Yes, they do that when they are happy,” she said. “He likes you.”

To this day my introduction to Chugs is still one of the highlights of my life. It ranks right up there with being buzzed by a baby Spinner dolphin and being kissed by a blind mare named Molly. But all the warm and fuzzies aside, my introduction to bats made me very curious about sounds I can’t hear. I learned for example, that over a thousand species echolocate, including most bats, all toothed whales, and small mammals. Scientists have also discovered and recorded the sounds that plants produce in response to lack of water or having their stems damaged. Just imagine what I could be learning from them if only I knew how to listen!

Which brings me back to Jonna’s ice. We are fortunate enough to be able to hear the ice sing, but I can’t help wondering what the planet is using its frozen voice to say. What might we learn if we stepped out of the isolating stranglehold language has on our brains and listened with more than our ears - felt what sounds are trying to convey? I can’t wait to hear your responses and any stories you’d like to share. To be continued…

Jena

---

For more of Jonna’s recordings visit:

1. The Mystic Sounds of Ice

2. The Spirit Song

3. Wild Whistling

   ---

I cheerfully accept one-time donations. Just click on the donate button below to be taken to my PayPal page. Thank you!