Some nights I lay silently on the grass and listen to the trees argue.

The quite whistles flowing from tree to tree tells the tale of each tree. This tale can be how long they have been there, what they have experienced, and advice for the future generations of trees that slowly sprout up around them.

As I lay and listen to the trees debate their history I slowly become attuned to the other sounds of the forest around me. I can hear the pleasant melodies of the birds around me. Their upbeat and flowing songs are sometimes cut short by the shriek of a bird of prey. Once the shriek is gone, the choir of birds return and continue their sweet melodies.

Occasionally the birds are interrupted by the heckling chatter of tree squirrels. These squirrels seem to enjoy their comedy acts as they climb up and down trees, shouting at each other like an old married couple does from years of understanding. Occasionally, these squirrels will drop their haul of acorns and other seeds, setting up the next generation of debating trees, who’s whistles will continue the long standing history of their ancestors.

Long in the distance, there are sounds alien to the natural balance of the forest. The demonic roar of an off road vehicle, or the banshee wailing of a jet engine far overhead. Nature does not comprehend these sounds, and can only hear the threatening nature of these sounds. These monstrous noises frequently interrupt the conversations of nature. But as always, these sounds pass by and the conversations continue pleasantly.

Some nights I lay silently on the grass and listen to the trees argue, and their arguments make more sense to me as the days go by.