Why Your Brain Might Prefer Birdsong to Cold Brew
Turns out, calm doesn’t require a trailhead—just headphones
During the pandemic, my partner and I lived in a three-bedroom, one-bath apartment in Somerville…with four people. No balcony, no yard. Just walls. Just Zoom. Just window plants and our sourdough starter.
My partner and I would sneak up to the questionably safe roof just to breathe.
And one day, we weren’t alone. There, sunbathing in a Tupperware container with a piece of lettuce, was our downstairs neighbor’s turtle—perched like a miniature god on a plastic throne, doing its own version of a rooftop reset.
I have never related more to a reptile.
Staring at the skyline, hoping thirty minutes of light could make up for another day in a box.
We did our best—weekend hikes, lake swims, anything with dirt and sky. But still, I kept wondering:
Why does spaciousness require a trailhead and a twenty-minute drive?
Why can’t that feeling exist on a Tuesday?
I kept wishing I could bottle it. And take it into the week.
Turns out…you kind of can.
No Forest? No Problem.
A recent study put this to the test. Researchers exposed people to just two minutes of nature sounds: birdsong, streams, rustling leaves.
The result?
Heart rate slowed—about 2 beats per minute lower when listening to nature sounds than urban noise.
Parasympathetic nervous system activity increased, signaling the body’s relaxation response had kicked in.
Prefrontal cortex activity dropped, suggesting the brain was easing off high-alert mode.
Improved mood—People felt more at ease, calmer, more themselves. Negative emotions dipped. Positive ones rose.
Possibly better focus—but the slightly higher scores for nature didn’t clear the bar for statistical significance, meaning chance can’t be ruled out.
No forest required.
Headphones. Nature track. That’s it.
Even better? Research suggests it’s not about how long you listen—just that you listen.
Short was enough.
You don’t need 45 minutes and a guided app. Sometimes, a few moments of crickets can do what coffee can’t.
So if you’ve ever felt foggy at your desk, dull behind your eyes, or like you’re one ping away from losing it—nature’s got your back.
And it doesn’t care if you’re in a cubicle.
This Meeting Could Have Been a River
It’s easy to forget—between Slack pings and sterile lights—that this isn’t the world our bodies were made for.
Not for spreadsheets. Not for stoplights. Not for conversations that begin with “per my last message.”
We were built for birdsong. For wind. For water moving over stone.
Our nervous systems evolved in meadows, not meeting rooms.
So when you hear the sound of a stream or rustling leaves and suddenly feel yourself exhale—that’s not wishful thinking. That’s millions of years of evolutionary design remembering what safety once sounded like.
And it turns out, even the faintest trace of nature—just a sound, a shimmer—can switch something on. Like a forgotten language your body still remembers how to speak.
This reminded me of something science writer
shared in response to a recent Substack note I posted. She said that listening to bird calls and watching the birds in her backyard had become a regular moment of calm. “They all have characters,” she wrote. I haven’t been able to forget that line.Because that kind of connection doesn’t feel like a luxury.
It feels like something we’ve always known—just waiting to be remembered.
(Misty also interviewed me for a very thoughtful piece in Mindful Magazine and writes All In Her Head, a powerful feminist newsletter reframing women’s mental health—because, as she puts it, it’s not all in your head. Highly recommend her work.)
Turns out, science agrees.
Scientists call this Attention Restoration Theory (ART): that natural environments offer what overstimulated minds are starving for—effortless beauty, a moment without demands, a sense of being held rather than pushed.
And the best part?
You don’t need to disappear into the wilderness.
You don’t even need a tree.
Just one sense.
One moment.
That’s all it takes for your body to remember its rhythm—
and begin to hum quietly, unmistakably, back into tune.
Micropractice #7: Sound Out
So if your day feels boxed in, try this:
Crack a window, or put on headphones and cue up a nature track. I like earth.fm—it’s ad-free, available as an app, and surprisingly addicting: There’s Saikan Temple Rainfall, Koh Phi Phi Ocean Waves, Crickets on a Summer Night, or the instant classic: Calm Birdsongs for Relaxation and Focus—which sounds like a fake album your aunt would gift you on cassette, but is, in fact, a banger.
Close your eyes, soften your gaze, or, if you have a plant nearby, let your eyes rest there awhile. It won’t judge.
Listen for 30 seconds. That’s it.
As you listen, notice:
– your shoulders– your jaw
– your breath
– the space around you
Let the sound be the shift. From clench to loosen. From scroll to still.
This isn’t a hack. It’s a homecoming.
Because sometimes, calm is only a breath—and a birdsong—away.
Sometimes it’s not about doing anything at all.
Just listening—really listening—can be enough to soften something inside.
Here’s a short video I took on a hike in Point Reyes last week—just birdsong, nothing fancy. But something about it calmed me.
Maybe it will do the same for you.
If this landed for you, feel free to forward it to a fellow turtle in a box.
With care, and a little birdsong,
Eli
Founder, The Micro Memo
Micropractice.com
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Great piece! Thank you for sharing. I love listening to nature sounds, especially bird sounds, when I'm writing or painting, and sometimes when I meditate. (Which prompted me to write a short piece about the benefits, but I've yet to edit it and publish it.)
I discovered videos for cats on YouTube, just these videos that run for 8-12 hours of birds and squirrels coming to eat seeds. I started using it to entertain the cats I take care of but discovered it calms me way down.