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	As part of training, Paul gave each intern a 25 foot long piece of string and tasked us with creating a 5 -10 minute interpretive talk focused on whatever we liked so long as it was within our stretch of string. I stopped along the trail, rolled out my string and thought about what I might say. Then it hit me. &nbsp;</p>
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	<img alt="" src="{filedir_5}Forest.jpg" style="width: 200px; height: 134px; float: right;" />The quietness, the stillness, the tranquility. The kind of quietness that only comes to the forests of Northern Michigan during two seasons of the year: fall and winter. The songs of the multitudes of warblers, vireos, sparrows, wrens, and flycatchers that once inhabited this area have gone with the birds further south to warmer areas. Occasionally a blue jay, chickadee, or nuthatch will vocally reveal its location; but mostly the forest is quiet. &nbsp;</p>
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	<img alt="" src="{filedir_5}BCC.jpg" style="width: 200px; height: 134px; float: right;" />A bird flits around in some nearby branches, distracting me. I get up, hold my binoculars at the ready, only to find out that it has flown away; it&#39;s identity will remain unknown. My mind cycles through the possibilities, resting on, &ldquo;Maybe it was a rare vagrant from a far away land?&rdquo; Then it hits me again, as if the forest is trying to teach me something else. &nbsp;My thoughts are flooded by the necessity of stillness and reflection. &nbsp;These kinds of deep thoughts only come to me, seemingly, when I&#39;m in the forest and only after the spring and summer occupants have gone.</p>
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	I think back to family and friends, and things that are more important than my birding agenda. As I do, a northern flicker flies overhead, a common bird that lives year round here in Michigan and is underappreciated by most bird watchers. I think about this bird, it&#39;s beautiful coloration and unique song and then think back to the first time I saw a northern flicker. I was so overwhelmed with joy, and now it has turned into an expected species for any birding trip or walk through the woods. A black-capped chickadee sings his name in a tree above, and as he does I contemplate where he&#39;s been, what he&#39;s seen.</p>
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	<img alt="" src="{filedir_5}GBH.jpg" style="width: 200px; height: 134px; float: right;" />We humans live fast paced lives and quite often miss the stillness of the northern forests this time of year. We sit in our warm homes in front of our large television sets and are constantly distracted. Much like every other time I force myself to take a walk I&#39;m glad I came out and listened. I&#39;m glad I came out and saw. Today I have seen and appreciated everything and nothing at all; the smallest maple tree only about two inches tall, the moss covering the bases of each tree giving a soft feel to the forest, and those underappreciated birds, such as the chickadee and the flicker, who have no worries in the world, or seem to, as their heavenly Father watches over them. &nbsp;</p>
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	So, I encourage you, as well as myself, to get out and listen and hear what we so often miss. Let the forest speak and let your thoughts wander. Remember what Jesus tells us in Matthew 5: &quot;who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life. Look at the birds of the air, they do not sow or reap or store away in barns and yet their heavenly Father feeds them.&quot; Sit down, stop, and listen to the wind blowing through the trees.&nbsp;</p>
