News on the Wild Platform
- Christina Burress
- Sep 2
- 4 min read
We miss a lot from reading the papers that are made from the trees
instead of reading the trees themselves.
–Cascade Anderson Geller (herbalist, teacher and activist)
I am a happy witness to the signs of change as we approach autumn. The Bald eagles have returned to their hunting zones up and down the river in anticipation of the mature chinook who are headed back to their birthplace to spawn. Yesterday, we had our first sighting of a flock of Common mergansers who specialize in eating fish and who must also know that the finned ones are on the move. Ferns and stinging nettle look crispy from the long hot days of summer but the Himalayan blackberries reach for the heat and are happily growing plump fruit filled with sweet juice.
In 1999, we lived in Guangzhou, China. At the time the city was home to 7 million (14.9 million today) who moved around in an endless stream of taxis, motorcycles, and buses. Pedestrians crisscrossed streets day and night; the city never rested. Somehow though, it still had a village feel with its small outdoor markets, specialized shops, and family-owned restaurants serving Cantonese fare.
Of all the wonderful memories, one common image sticks–a group of men crowded around a glassed noticeboard in a public square, ostensibly reading the daily news posted for all to consume. Who knows what drew their attention: local stories, weather forecasts, race results, or gossip–whatever it was, they gathered in this place to get a pulse on what was happening in their world.
The memory got me thinking about where we find our news. I only know three people who still subscribe to the printed newspaper and two of them admit it’s because they look forward to the daily crossword puzzle. It’s not just my family and friends, it seems that fewer readers are taking the paper. According to Press Gazette Future of Media, “The combined average daily print circulation at 25 of the largest audited newspapers in the US dropped 12.7% in the year to the end of September 2024…” Pew Research (Sept. 2025) reports that when Americans are asked which platform they prefer to get their news they found that “58% of Americans say they prefer a digital device, far higher than the share who prefer TV (32%). Relatively few Americans prefer radio (6%) or print (4%).”
Even with my nature-leaning algorithms, my digital news feed can be unsettling and traumatic. I understand my responsibility to stay informed, but at what cost to my well being? One of my remedies has been to engage with the “wild platform”. Hiking, sitting quietly under a tree, and walking up and down the river, helps me appreciate through continued observation, how every living being from eagle to tree to snake, is dynamically living their lives in relation with the weather, food, and various disturbances.
The etymology of the word “news” comes from the
late 14th-century French and means "new things."
It’s taken me nearly two years in the rainforest to recognize the signs that herald change. At times, the forest can feel like a ceaseless sea of green ready to swallow me up in the best sort of way. Other times, I’m able to make sense of things because of what calls to me. Mostly, it’s something that stands out like a contrasting color, wafting scent, quick movement, or sharp sound. It’s just like when you see a close friend and immediately notice something is up because their facial expression or body language or tone is different. Familiarity with place and kin allows us to recognize breaking news.
Take the Vine maple tree who thrives along the river in the thicket under the Sitka spruce and Bigleaf maple. She draws my eye first thing in the morning and proudly telegraphs news of autumn with her striking yellow, orange and red leaves. She’s had my attention for weeks and I trust her to tell me we are on our way. The Red alders have started to drop their leaves too, ever so slowly, a few here and a few there drifting to the dry undergrowth to allow for the satisfying crunch under my boot. The elk came through this week and it’s clear that the forest is low on tasty growths because they’ve resorted to the dregs–tips of the low-lying Hedge nettle, Red elderberry leaves, nearly flowered sunflowers, and the wisteria.
Try this. The next time you step outside, look for the equivalent of the “glassed noticeboard”. Where can you pause to receive the news offered by trees and birds? Which plants are turning colors, announcing their inward return until next year? What thrives while others die back? This is the real pulse on the world and the sort of news feed that is far easier on our nervous system, especially if we take long breaks from our digital devices. Let me know what you discover!
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