“Sounds of the Huemul”

Carlos Gulisano

February 2016

Sounds of the meagre river flowing over stony beds as it seeks its final destination

Sounds from a canal, with waters stolen from the river, rushing among the trees to who knows where

Sounds of the wind, funnelling through the valley, every day blowing towards the lake

Sounds of the soothing foliage and trunks as they sway in the wind, as if reawakening

Sounds of silence in the morning stillness, while a ray of sun warms a small, delicate tree

Sounds of creaking boughs as they break under the weight of winter snow or, even worse, toppling over when dead, prey to the wind or to the unrelenting river 

eroding the edges of the forest

Sounds fading away of the merciless axe

Sounds of large stones and tree trunks swept along by the furious river during the thaw or after heavy rains

Sounds of the waves of a hungry lake, eager to devour the waters of the river that arrive in exhaustion at their final destination

Sounds of the song of the chucao*, from the depths of the forest, as the last rays of sunlight peek through the clouds on stormy evenings

Sounds of certain chords, executed by magician’s apprentices, unexpectedly carried away by the wind

*  The chucao is a medium-sized bird of the Patagonian forest with a very loud, shrill song.