Noise Pollution

A Rant about Some People's Children

As I was walking along the path the other day, keeping an eye out for bugs, errant cold-hardy blooms, and listening in vain for birds, I heard something. Someone on the path far ahead of me, talking so loudly that I could almost make out his side of the conversation. I don’t understand people like this. Why would you go out into the peace and quiet only to blare so loudly the birds fall silent for long after you’ve passed?

A few minutes later two cyclists overtook me on the path. I was walking the edge, as I always do to be out of the way as this is a paved trail for dual use by pedestrians and cyclists alike. The nice people on a bike call out ‘passing!’ or ‘on your left!’ as they come up to warn someone they are there. This person didn’t say a word. They didn’t have to. I’d heard them coming for at least a quarter of a mile as they had a rather large speaker mounted to the frame of their bicycle and had their tunes cranked all the way up. The uncovered equivalent of those cars that bounce past you propelled by the vibrations of their stereo. Only playing New Country instead of heavy-bass rap noise.

It’s not just out in the wild I’ve encountered this behavior, and I’m really beginning to wonder about the lack of manners. I recognize that most humans believe they are the center of the known world, and everyone else should sit and rotate around them and them only. Still, you would think that their mothers would have said something to them. Except one of the instances was a mother, with her child in the shopping cart holding a tablet that loudly played whatever entertainment the mother was using to raise said child in lieu of her own guidance. I did my best to avoid them while doing my shopping, which wasn’t difficult as you could hear them coming more than an aisle away. Until she slid up behind me in the checkout line and I had to bite my tongue for several minutes to refrain from snapping at her.

I fully realize this is likely the old-lady-me emerging in her cane-shaking get-off-my-lawn final form. I will never understand why people think this is acceptable. Which presumes, of course, that they are capable of thought at all. It struck me, out on the trail that day, most of these people would be horrified at the idea of dropping a piece of trash and leaving it to blow where it would. They might even chastise someone else for littering. They think nothing of the noise pollution hovering around them in an audible cloud. I neither heard nor saw any birds that day, with the noise generated by humans constantly jarring me during what should have been a peaceful stroll. I mean, my blood pressure and heart rate were up, so it was better cardio that way?

Children are raised in schools that preach against pollution, but somehow this doesn’t extend to the level of sound they make. There are times and places to have a conversation at the top of your lungs. If you’re going to get together with a friend to do this, go walk in a mall. Years ago I was out on a quiet trail, enjoying the stillness only a mature forest can have, when my mellow was harshed by two shrill female voices. I realized they were on the same small loop of the trail I had taken, out of sight but sadly not out of sound. I hurried along, trying to get away from the harridans chatting away at the top of their lungs, only to meet up with them at the intersection of trails. They in their business casual and sneakers looked at me, with my pack and camera and hiking boots.

“Do you know which way back to the trailhead?”

I said the single rudest thing I have ever said out loud in my life, I believe.

“No, I’m taking any trail you aren’t to get away from you and your noise!”

I headed off at right angles on a trail away from the trailhead, walking as fast as I could, until finally, silence fell around me again. Then the birds sang.