Voices in the Creek

Running next to our outdoor bathing tub is a wet weather stream. Half the year it’s dry (in the summer, when thirsty tree roots drink the water). After heavy rains it can become a frightening torrent that once washed the tub downstream, bashing it to a pulp.

When the creek is dry or the water flow is just a trickle, the stream is quiet. On those nights I can sit soaking and listen to faint animal sounds deep in the forest. In contrast, when the flow is a torrent, the stream emits a constant roar that drowns out even airplanes.

The most fascinating sounds come from the stream when it is in mid flow—when it’s in babbling mode. It has three types of voices then. One is a high-pitched “shhhh,” reminiscent of wind through the pines. It provides a constant background drone. A second voice, a low-pitched basso rumble is created by numerous little falls and drop-offs here and there. These two voices are steady; they provide a continuous murmur in the creek’s choir.

The third voice—an irregular babble—is the most interesting one. It comes from numerous locations along the creek bed, as water trickles and swirls around and over small obstacles. The sounds of this melodious voice are: bloops, poots, reeks, dinks, burps, glubs, bleeps, plaps, teeples, klunks, blops, blips, and ruckles. These random watery syllables are flung into the air, mixing and creating a sort of cocktail party chatter.

I can be soaking in the tub, deep in reverie, when suddenly it seems that I hear a human voice nearby. Out of the creek’s incomprehensible babble an almost comprehensible word or two unexpectedly emerges. It’s startling—almost as if someone is walking nearby, chatting quietly with a companion, and one or two nearly-intelligible words rise above the mumbling. Just as quickly I calm down, realizing it’s the unwitting creek. It continues babbling incoherently—only to tease me again a little later with another fanciful word or two. Is there a message here, if I were to pay a little more attention?