Bush Talk

Bush talk is the way people that live close to nature communicate with one another. It is not just a choice of subject matter but an entirely unique way of conversing. Let me give you an example.

I am sitting around a sizeable campfire in the back yard with an old native friend who lives some distance down the lake. It is the first week of December. It is cold and the fire is not just there as a conversation piece or a setting for a beautiful evening but is there to keep us warm. No doubt it would be much easier to move indoors but it just wouldn’t be the same.  It is a clear night with a full moon that is just moving over the mountain ridge across the lake. We’re hunched comfortably around a hot mug of something watching the light show.

“Beauty”, I remark.

The single word is followed by a comfortable pause as we both drink in the crispy air and watch the moon slide up another notch in the sky. We both see and feel the meaning of the word. The pause is a part of the conversation. It allows us to reflect on the word and to gather the night and meaning around us.

“Uhm,” says my friend.

Again the pause, as we let the mantle of darkness and nature settle around us in comfortable agreement. Meg, the black female dog quietly pads over and moves into the space between his knees.

“Oh Meg,” chides my friend pulling his hand away from the dog.

His tone of voice contradicts the action and the dog isn’t the least bit discouraged. With a deft lick she settles in even closer and her soft, insistent muzzle induces the hand back into a gentle movement across her head.

“Another?” I ask, holding up my empty cup.

He hands it to me and I walk into the house to refuel our mugs of java. With full mugs I head back outside but the soft glow of the campfire, the old man, the dog, the flying sparks give me pause for a moment. I stand there for a time taking in the scene. It is a timeless picture and could well be a reenactment of a scene out of the distant past even at this very site for the fire pit was here long before we moved in.

There is thriftiness of words with bush talk but each is meaningful, carefully measured and the natural surroundings allow it to be adequately understood.   There is no need to hurry and no need for the endless prattle and vocal window dressing that city folks use to stay ahead of the everyday noise that accosts them at every turn.  People that live in and are surrounded by the solitude of nature have a gentle but direct way of speaking and in their daily lives rarely have to override the noise of civilization.

“Seen any chickens,” I ask after I take my seat.

This time there is a long period of silence as the question comes under some lengthy consideration.

“Not many,” he replies.  “Too wet this spring.”

As he heads home some hours later, I reflect that it has been a good visit.  We’ve talked about the weather, enjoyed what was to be the last campfire of the year drank some great camp coffee and discussed the lack of grouse in the neighborhood.