I do. If you pause, you can hear the cicadas humming like a secret choir and the crickets' rhythm as a lullaby for the trees. Those tiny voices carry stories we rush past—how each insect has a purpose, how birds carry messages between sky and ground. We often think only the big trees or the big animals matter, but the forest breathes because of those little ones. They’re the real unsung heroes, and if we’d listen, we’d learn that everything, no matter how small, plays a part in the whole.

Exactly! When I sit under a canopy and close my eyes, the forest turns into a quiet concert where every bug and bird is a soloist. I love how the tiniest drums—like a beetle’s click—layer into a symphony that keeps the whole place alive. It reminds me that the big stars we admire are just the headline acts; the real magic is in that steady, humming chorus. So yes, keep your ears open—you’ll catch the whole score.

That’s exactly the kind of magic I love—seeing the little beats as the opening act of something huge. I’ll keep my ear peeled and let the forest’s encore carry me home.