I was raised on the plains of the Eastern Dakotas. The summers were always noisy: crickets, cicadas, coyotes, prairie dogs, wind, plenty to fill the air. The winters were incredibly austere, sometimes incomprehensibly so to those who haven't experienced them.
On particularly cold and windless days outdoors the silence is almost unbelievable. You hear your heartbeat, the snow underfoot crunches so loudly you cringe, and sounds travels so clearly and without interruption that a half-mile seems within arm's reach. It's absolutely surreal and can be very disorienting, almost like space compresses around you.
It was hard enough to live there in the 90s. I can't imagine how isolating it'd have been on a claim.
Speaking of Great Plains, I found that, being Swiss, I tend to feel unsettled in regions where no mountains whatsoever are visible on the horizon. I'm not even much of a mountaineer, but it seems I need them around to get my bearings.
I grew up on the US East Coast. When I moved to the West Coast for a summer, I found that my normally good navigational skills were totally scrambled, because the ocean was in the wrong direction.
As a Californian I have the same problem. Just about anywhere you go here there's mountains or at least hills. Driving east from Denver on I70 is just a featureless flat plane. I've driven all over the Great Plains and it's just unsettling. There's an old joke that you can watch your dog run away for three days which is not that much of an exaggeration.
I was the opposite, I spent a good chunk of my time growing up and then in college on the High Plains of Texas. When I took my first job it was in a pine forrest I often felt sick because I couldn’t see the horizon and because the trees block out so much of the early morning and afternoon light.
I think it depends on how you grow up. I personally need to see mountains to be happy but I have talked to people from Texas and they got nervous when they couldn't see the horizon in all directions.
... and not surprising it runs the other way too. I have relatives from the Canadian prairies who feel claustrophobic in the mountains, like the landscape is pressing in around them.
Funny, I'm the same way. Grew up in Illinois, which is totally flat. But after an adult lifetime in CA, it seems really, really boring to not have mountains.
> “An alarming amount of insanity occurs in the new prairie States [sic] among farmers and their wives,” wrote journalist Eugene Smalley in The Atlantic in 1893.
Meta: I find it cool that The Atlantic was around at that time and reporting on current events, and that it's still kicking around:
When I head out to my father or father in laws (Saskatchewan) farm, I usually ponder the vast empty field for a while. One time when I was at my father in laws, I said "it's kinda eerie how quiet it is" and he told me a story.
A Japanese man had been working at a nearby oil town and had befriended my father in law. He wanted to be left alone in a field to enjoy the quite so he took him to a spot and left him there for a few hours. When my father in law came back, the Japanese man was sobbing.
But the problem is (from what I can tell): it wasn't silent. It was much louder than the woods you know.
This would have been at a time when it was nothing but native plants. Which means it would have been teeming and crawling with native insects (note that native plants will support more insect life than non-native ones - because the non-native insects that evolved to live off the non-native plants, are missing).
So it would have been noisy with insect life.
Butterflies. Creepy crawlies. Spiders. Dragonflies. Gnats. And things I'd have a hard time finding a common name for, moving around.
And then the native reptiles and snakes that eat them (remember, present at a higher density then because there was more of the food they like, and fewer people).
And the birds that feed off them, also present in higher numbers because there were no humans, no domestic cats, and no habitat loss restricting their numbers. No non-native predators at all.
Zero percent pesticides compared to what we have now, much more water (nothing having been dammed or redirected), no farming depleting nutrients in the soil, only 100% virgin high quality composted soil. And so forth.
It would make considerable noise, all the additional living biomass all these ecosystem positive changes would support.
It's pretty easy to confirm this yourself, if you go to a small nature preserve that's been restored with native plants during the summer, and just sit there and observe for 10-20 minutes. And that's only a weak imitation of the amount of biomass those prairies would've supported.
My favourite writer, Czesław Miłosz, remarked how rich the nature was in Lithuania during 1920ies and 30ies (back then, not much changed there since the middle ages), compared to him living in Berkeley later. He wrote that the instect life was particularly impressive and you could have a wall of your house covered by a scum-like layer of various insects. My grandmother, who lived back then in similar conditions, said the same - there could be so many instects that it looked as if the whole wall was moving.
It's also easy to prove you wrong. Just go to the desolate prairies their talking about where you won't find a tree for miles and the birds only fly overhead.
I live on a small farm in the Midwest. When my mom (who lives in NYC) comes to visit, it often takes her a few days before she can sleep well because it's so quiet at night.
Conversely, living on top of a hill, the wind absolutely screams in winter. After two or three days of constant howling wind, sometimes I feel like I'm going nuts.
> Conversely, living on top of a hill, the wind absolutely screams in winter. After two or three days of constant howling wind, sometimes I feel like I'm going nuts.
Semi-related. I grew up in the midwest except I was in a soundproofed basement room with no windows and now I have rather severe misophonia to a lot of random sounds.
Theories stretched beyond the breaking point. I am of the third generation living on the plains of Montana, 60 miles south of Alberta. No such issues are in my family history. If you spent most of your life in the maddening din of New York City and experienced quiet for the first time, perhaps you can’t handle it. For goodness sake this part of the land has been inhabited for tens of thousands of years.
When one moves to a new, "strange", and unknown environment, separating themselves from friends and family and way of life, depression can be very real. Plains or no plains.
I wouldn't call the Great Plains silent at all. The sounds are different from the forested East, but there's a lot more going on than wind. Newspapers have never been immune to taking common misunderstandings and sensationalizing them.
so much this. I had a condo in Murrieta, CA a while back. Bedroom was on the second story, right next to Murrieta Hot Springs Rd. I never got used to all the crazy sounds coming from that road.
There's a "psychic noise" (for lack of a better term) in cities. Less so in smaller cities. Ramps down as you go further into wilderness. The contrast is shocking.
I have seen little discussion of it so I'm guessing most of us don't perceive it. You might even call it woo. Nonetheless.
I could see some people becoming acclimated to it. Unable to tolerate its absence even.
Otoh, some rare weirdos might flourish in that wilderness peace.
I recently returned from a visit to NYC for the first time. While there, I tried to tell my partner about the overwhelming 'citiness' that NYC was exuding but of course I couldn't describe it well. Naturally she shook her head at me.
The trip was five days but I was still keenly aware of it into the very last evening. I had difficulty sleeping due to my inability to shut out all the noise -- sirens, honking, the occasional bit of shouting.
For reference - I was born, raised, and spent most of my adult life in very small Midwestern towns. We moved a lot when I was young and it wasn't long before I learned to feel the vibes of each different town.
I think of this 'psychic' energy as being people's perceptual and effectual fields. Space that other humans can interact with. Growing up in a city, one expects the presence of multitudes of other fields. Being in the wilderness is a trip; it takes a long time for me to really believe I'm not in someone else's perceptual radius. It's hard to convince myself that I could yell at the top of my lungs and not cause alarm, even when in the middle of desert pan where I can see for miles in any direction.
Minor similarity - I grew up near sea, and i remember the first time when inside the country i walked up a hill with an old fortress, looked around and felt something unusual and just a bit disorienting - there were no sea anywhere, just plains of fields and forests stretching all the way to horizon in all directions.
In the rare times when I've not been within a few kilometres of the sea, I've had this same feeling of looking around, not being sure what was missing.
Apparently other things can take the place, with the mind (or is it the spirit) accepting one thing as a replacement for another. Mountains come to mind. Lakes and rivers, too, plus geologic formations. People tell me that these sorts of things can take the place of the sea.
But the prairie, the vast prairie? To me, at least, the challenge of adjusting to the prairie would require replacing something with nothing. I can see how people would theorize that moving to the prairie could break one's spirit.
I'd love to hear how prairie folks feel when they move near the sea, or to a spot within sight of the mountains. Perhaps the anisotropy of view and mobility starts to gnaw at them.
> The description of the Great Plains soundscape reminds Adrian KC Lee, an auditory brain scientist at the University of Washington who was not involved in Velez’s study, of sensory deprivation or being in an anechoic chamber—a room designed to stop echoes. In those cases, even the smallest sound, like the rustle of clothing or even your own heartbeat, can become impossible to ignore. As Lee pointed out, the human brain will naturally adapt to its environment, essentially turning up or down the volume to better distinguish what’s going on.
This reminds me of a story, I believe it was told by Joseph Goldstein to Sam Harris (but I could be mistaken), about learning to meditate in noisy, urban environments. It makes me think this method and process could illustrate what the author is talking about.
I live in a fairly quiet community. I’ve become aware of people in our community through mutual acquaintances, friends and family, who have trouble sleeping at night without the television on.
From what I’ve read, this is a common problem with people who suffer from anxiety and depression. So I think prairie madness might have exacerbated already existing mental health conditions in a select group of people.
On Reddit this week, there was a popular video posting of a little boy sleeping peacefully on a chair as a loud mariachi band plays near his ears. How is this even possible?
My dog happily sleeps with all kinds of noise going on. While he's fairly smart I think there's not a lot of introspective thought in his brain. Probably the same for a kid compared to an adult, or an anxiety-ridden adult compared to a more healthy (if that's the right word) one. My wife can turn off and sleep in under 5 minutes, but leave me alone with my thoughts in the quiet and dark and I'll tell myself stories for hours in a very alert state where tiny noises make my heart race. I don't remember being like this as a child.
> little boy sleeping peacefully on a chair as a loud mariachi band plays near his ears.
I've slept soundly while off watch on a ship with pneumatic chisels and hammers chipping paint off the other side of the steel bulkhead I was sleeping next to. I've seen people fall asleep in a bosun's chair dangling 50' above the water. Some of us can sleep anywhere :-)
I live in Fargo. Grew up in Bottineau, ND. I've lived in other states (Minnesota, Washington, California, Australian Capital Territory) but have spent most of my life in ND. I never thought of this place as particularly silent. Sometimes the bugs are annoyingly loud at my parents house on the prairie outside of Bottineau. The wind is almost constant, so you'll hear trees blowing around in the places that have them. Coyotes at night. Squirrels chittering. Woodpeckers. I suppose maybe it's different in the middle of the state where there's nothing but prairie as far as the eye can see, but I doubt it
[+] [-] chemeril|3 years ago|reply
On particularly cold and windless days outdoors the silence is almost unbelievable. You hear your heartbeat, the snow underfoot crunches so loudly you cringe, and sounds travels so clearly and without interruption that a half-mile seems within arm's reach. It's absolutely surreal and can be very disorienting, almost like space compresses around you.
It was hard enough to live there in the 90s. I can't imagine how isolating it'd have been on a claim.
[+] [-] microtherion|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] dtgriscom|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] giantrobot|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] asciimov|3 years ago|reply
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[+] [-] JKCalhoun|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] atkailash|3 years ago|reply
[deleted]
[+] [-] throw0101a|3 years ago|reply
Meta: I find it cool that The Atlantic was around at that time and reporting on current events, and that it's still kicking around:
* https://www.theatlantic.com
Not many places can have "/magazine/archive/18xx/" it its URL.
[+] [-] ThinkingGuy|3 years ago|reply
Their entire archive is available on their website (to subscribers only).
[+] [-] permo-w|3 years ago|reply
I believe Japan has much, much older restaurants and hotels, along with companies like Nintendo
[+] [-] nightowl_games|3 years ago|reply
A Japanese man had been working at a nearby oil town and had befriended my father in law. He wanted to be left alone in a field to enjoy the quite so he took him to a spot and left him there for a few hours. When my father in law came back, the Japanese man was sobbing.
[+] [-] julianeon|3 years ago|reply
This would have been at a time when it was nothing but native plants. Which means it would have been teeming and crawling with native insects (note that native plants will support more insect life than non-native ones - because the non-native insects that evolved to live off the non-native plants, are missing).
So it would have been noisy with insect life.
Butterflies. Creepy crawlies. Spiders. Dragonflies. Gnats. And things I'd have a hard time finding a common name for, moving around.
And then the native reptiles and snakes that eat them (remember, present at a higher density then because there was more of the food they like, and fewer people).
And the birds that feed off them, also present in higher numbers because there were no humans, no domestic cats, and no habitat loss restricting their numbers. No non-native predators at all.
Zero percent pesticides compared to what we have now, much more water (nothing having been dammed or redirected), no farming depleting nutrients in the soil, only 100% virgin high quality composted soil. And so forth.
It would make considerable noise, all the additional living biomass all these ecosystem positive changes would support.
It's pretty easy to confirm this yourself, if you go to a small nature preserve that's been restored with native plants during the summer, and just sit there and observe for 10-20 minutes. And that's only a weak imitation of the amount of biomass those prairies would've supported.
[+] [-] badpun|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] somenewaccount1|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] HeyLaughingBoy|3 years ago|reply
I live on a small farm in the Midwest. When my mom (who lives in NYC) comes to visit, it often takes her a few days before she can sleep well because it's so quiet at night.
Conversely, living on top of a hill, the wind absolutely screams in winter. After two or three days of constant howling wind, sometimes I feel like I'm going nuts.
[+] [-] corrral|3 years ago|reply
Indeed.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wind_(novel)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wind_(1928_film)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wind_(2018_film)
Novel, film based on the novel (starring Lillian Gish!), and a much newer re-make.
[+] [-] izzydata|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] tclancy|3 years ago|reply
When the wind picks up for more than two or three days at a time, I want to puncture my eardrums.
[+] [-] wglb|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] hereforphone|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] ternaryoperator|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] Fargoan|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] msrenee|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] jollybean|3 years ago|reply
I think really it's isolation and 'quiet all the time' that gets people.
[+] [-] culi|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] rootw0rm|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] swayvil|3 years ago|reply
I have seen little discussion of it so I'm guessing most of us don't perceive it. You might even call it woo. Nonetheless.
I could see some people becoming acclimated to it. Unable to tolerate its absence even.
Otoh, some rare weirdos might flourish in that wilderness peace.
[+] [-] TimedToasts|3 years ago|reply
The trip was five days but I was still keenly aware of it into the very last evening. I had difficulty sleeping due to my inability to shut out all the noise -- sirens, honking, the occasional bit of shouting.
For reference - I was born, raised, and spent most of my adult life in very small Midwestern towns. We moved a lot when I was young and it wasn't long before I learned to feel the vibes of each different town.
[+] [-] 0_____0|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] trhway|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] bluenose69|3 years ago|reply
Apparently other things can take the place, with the mind (or is it the spirit) accepting one thing as a replacement for another. Mountains come to mind. Lakes and rivers, too, plus geologic formations. People tell me that these sorts of things can take the place of the sea.
But the prairie, the vast prairie? To me, at least, the challenge of adjusting to the prairie would require replacing something with nothing. I can see how people would theorize that moving to the prairie could break one's spirit.
I'd love to hear how prairie folks feel when they move near the sea, or to a spot within sight of the mountains. Perhaps the anisotropy of view and mobility starts to gnaw at them.
[+] [-] Neil44|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] sammalloy|3 years ago|reply
This reminds me of a story, I believe it was told by Joseph Goldstein to Sam Harris (but I could be mistaken), about learning to meditate in noisy, urban environments. It makes me think this method and process could illustrate what the author is talking about.
I live in a fairly quiet community. I’ve become aware of people in our community through mutual acquaintances, friends and family, who have trouble sleeping at night without the television on.
From what I’ve read, this is a common problem with people who suffer from anxiety and depression. So I think prairie madness might have exacerbated already existing mental health conditions in a select group of people.
On Reddit this week, there was a popular video posting of a little boy sleeping peacefully on a chair as a loud mariachi band plays near his ears. How is this even possible?
[+] [-] noman-land|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] hnick|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] HeyLaughingBoy|3 years ago|reply
I've slept soundly while off watch on a ship with pneumatic chisels and hammers chipping paint off the other side of the steel bulkhead I was sleeping next to. I've seen people fall asleep in a bosun's chair dangling 50' above the water. Some of us can sleep anywhere :-)
[+] [-] AlbertCory|3 years ago|reply
The dog came on stage with her, and slept right near the tympani's. I was amazed.
[+] [-] unknown|3 years ago|reply
[deleted]
[+] [-] drewcoo|3 years ago|reply
Yes. Now go back to California!
[+] [-] JKCalhoun|3 years ago|reply
[1] https://youtu.be/aACATdZKHxc
[+] [-] smm11|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] Fargoan|3 years ago|reply