The Naturalist in the Treetops

In December 1874, a ferocious windstorm swept through the Sierra Nevada. While most sensible people took shelter, naturalist John Muir did the opposite. He climbed to the top of a hundred-foot Douglas spruce near the ridge of Yosemite Valley and clung there, swaying wildly in winds that bent ancient trees like grass. From that perch, he listened. He heard what he called a magnificent psalm — the wind roaring through pine needles, branches cracking like rifle shots across the canyon, the deep bass of boulders shifting in streambeds below.…