coordinates the science at  the rather  romantic-sounding   “Natural
Sounds  and Night   Skies”  division    of  the agency. I   imagine the staff
running around  wearing geeky   headphones  and glow-in-the-dark    tee
shirts  depicting   their   favorite    quasars.    Fristrup’s  research    agenda
includes    not only    documenting the ill effects of  anthropogenic   noise
on  visitors    and wildlife,   but also    documenting the beneficial  effects of
its absence:    Why should  we  save    the sounds  of  nature? What    do  they
do  for us? Fristrup    is  an  accidental  sound   guy;    he  intended    to  study
biomedical  engineering at  Harvard but got waylaid by  paleontologist
Stephen Jay Gould   and evolutionary    biologist   E.  O.  Wilson. Biophilia
rubbed  off.    Now he  applies engineering to  concepts    of  evolution,
survival    and ecosystem   health. “We all interact    with    our environment
through our senses,”    he  told    me, “so any pollution   not only    affects the
fabric  of  our lives   but our connections to  everything  else.”
To  learn   more    about   how sound   changes our brains  and to  find    out
just    how noise-sensitive I   am, I   ventured    to  the sound   labs    of
Pennsylvania    State   University. I   was met by  Peter   Newman  and
Derrick Taff,   two young   park-rangers-turned-social-scientists   in  the
Department  of  Recreation, Park    and Tourism Management  who work
with    Fristrup’s  group.  Newman  also    didn’t  start   out studying    sound,
he  explained   to  me  as  we  navigated   a   noisy   cafeteria   on  campus. He
was interested  in  parks   and crowds, and was conducting  visitor
surveys at  Muir    Woods   National    Monument,   known   for its ancient
redwoods.
“We asked   if  there   was one thing   to  fix about   the park    unit,   what
would   it  be?”    he  explained.  “And    people  said    they    wished  it  were
more    quiet.  I   was surprised   what    a   big deal    it  was,    but these   were    old-
growth  trees   with    a   primeval    feel,   and visitors    felt    it  should  be  quiet.
Later   we  went    back    and analyzed    the words   they    used,   and they    were
so  emotion-laden.  Words   like    ‘soothing,’ ‘peaceful.’ That    was
interesting to  us. That’s  where   the research    started dipping its toes
into    health.”    (And    the survey  carried weight: Muir    Woods   now has a