Northwest Soundscapes: Recent Episodes
Andy "soundeziner" Martin
Sound Designer + Field & Natural Sound Recordist Living in Seattle, recording the Pacific Northwest, streaming to the world. To license sounds or for all other inquiries: info@soundeziner.com
like a loud cat, but males are also well known for long, developing song performances that include whistles, squeaks, gurgles, whines, nasal tones, even mimicry of other birds.If you hear a long seemingly random performance coming from spikey shrubs, listen carefully to the phrasing. Where true Mockingbirds tend to repeat phrases three or more times and Brown Thrashers tend to repeat phrases twice before continuing, Gray Catbirds sing phrases almost at random with some repeated notes.Recorded on June 24, 2026, in the high Okanogan of Washington State, I liked this particular bird for his near-perfect example of a Willow Flycatcher. Listen the isolated version at 00:17.600 and again to the original at 00:51.200See if you can pick out the ACTUAL Willow Flycatcher singing in the background (hint: try 00:36.600, 00:44.100). Was this Catbird responding to the Flycatcher? Or was it just coincidence? I know it was a genuine article by actually seeing it with my own eyes. Also in the background can be heard Spotted Towhee, Red-winged Blackbirds, and Song Sparrow, , among others.The picture attached is a still from a video I'll link to when I post it to Youtube. I've been experimenting with video+audio recordings recently, and while I don't have an amazing camera, my iPhone is doing just fine for now. After all, I'm a bird RECORDIST, not a bird PHOTOGRAPHER ;)
are: https://www.fws.gov/refuge/columbiaMaybe check out the Othello Crane Festival: https://www.othellosandhillcranefestival.orgLike my recordings? To hear more or license bird sounds for your project, feel free to message me directly in SoundCloud or click on one of my too-many social media buttons. If you feel like fueling my activities, feel free to buy me a Ko-Fi, at ko-fi.com/northwestsoundscapes Happy Listening!
by Adam Jackson is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.Learn more about Scaly-breasted Wrens at eBird: https://ebird.org/species/scbwre1Like my recordings? To hear more or license bird sounds for your project, feel free to message me directly in SoundCloud or click on one of my too-many social media buttons. If you feel like fueling my activities, feel free to buy me a Ko-Fi, at https://ko-fi.com/northwestsoundscapes Happy Listening!This recording also appears:iNaturalist https://www.inaturalist.org/observations/312773406Macaulay Library/ eBird https://macaulaylibrary.org/asset/641624556Xeno-Canto https://xeno-canto.org/1037518
A powerful thunderstorm moves in across the swamp. Deep booming thunder drives the insects, birds, and frogs to seek shelter. Sheets of rain whip the trees and understory plants. Hard thunderous cracks mingle with a steady downpour. This is the power of the sky when it meets the Earth.
A powerful thunderstorm moves in across the swamp. Deep booming thunder drives the insects, birds, and frogs to seek shelter. Sheets of rain whip the trees and understory plants. Hard thunderous cracks mingle with a steady downpour. This is the power of the sky when it meets the Earth.
A powerful thunderstorm moves in across the swamp. Deep booming thunder drives the insects, birds, and frogs to seek shelter. Sheets of rain whip the trees and understory plants. Hard thunderous cracks mingle with a steady downpour. This is the power of the sky when it meets the Earth.
A powerful thunderstorm moves in across the swamp. Deep booming thunder drives the insects, birds, and frogs to seek shelter. Sheets of rain whip the trees and understory plants. Hard thunderous cracks mingle with a steady downpour. This is the power of the sky when it meets the Earth.
TRUE FROGS - AMERICAN BULLFROG - Lithobates catesbeianusA small-but-growing colony chorusing at night in the Promontory Ponds of Seattle's Warren G. Magnuson Park. American Bullfrogs are a destructive invasive species in the western States of the US. That a colony has managed to take up residence and thrive in an urban nature preserve is highly alarming.The focus is shifting, moving between individual frogs in the foreground, with others audible in the background between roars. It's frustrating dealing with Bullfrogs. I love them. It's not their fault they were introduced to the Western States. They just live their lives as they come. Their ecological impact is significant, affecting population numbers of entire species of native frogs and fishes.image credit: "Bullfrog_Nick Myatt 02" by Oregon Department of Fish & Wildlife is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit creativecommons.org/publicdomain/ma…/?ref=openverse.
A short representative sample of Wood Duck recordings. Wood Ducks, Aix sponsa, are common ducks of swamps, marshes, and other riparian habitats in North America. Being the only duck to nest in tree cavities, they depends on the holes drilled by Pileated Woodpeckers, linking the survival of the woodpecker to the success of the duck to best and breed.Noisy and loud, females have multiple calls but their signature all-purpose contact call "ooo-eek" is the most familiar, and once heard it's hard to forget..These birds are low-flyers and often the last to return home at dusk after a day of dispersed foraging. I've been in swamps where it seemed like I was being buzzed by an endless stream of screeching Wood Ducks, flying by mere feet above my head.Each recording here is in two parts -- the first is isolated, clean, and ready for implementation in a media project. The latter half is the sound in its musty, noisy original state.Wood Ducks move around and do not call continuously. Calls are collected and strung together in order-of-occurrence, grouped by individual, then by like-type.Read more here: https://birdsoftheworld.org/bow/species/wooduc/cur/introductionAll sound is originally recorded by me.The image is used by cc: "Male Wood Duck" by U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service - Northeast Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?ref=openverseI record wildlife and soundscapes for living! Birds are one of my specialties, along with frogs and insects. If you would like to license something you hear on my SoundCloud, inquire about other recordings in my deep library, or discuss recording something specific, send me a message (link in bio). Heck, if you just want to chat about nature sounds and birds, feel free to send me a message!
A short representative sample of Wood Duck recordings. Wood Ducks, Aix sponsa, are common ducks of swamps, marshes, and other riparian habitats in North America. Being the only duck to nest in tree cavities, they depends on the holes drilled by Pileated Woodpeckers, linking the survival of the woodpecker to the success of the duck to best and breed.Noisy and loud, females have multiple calls but their signature all-purpose contact call "ooo-eek" is the most familiar, and once heard it's hard to forget..These birds are low-flyers and often the last to return home at dusk after a day of dispersed foraging. I've been in swamps where it seemed like I was being buzzed by an endless stream of screeching Wood Ducks, flying by mere feet above my head.Each recording here is in two parts -- the first is isolated, clean, and ready for implementation in a media project. The latter half is the sound in its musty, noisy original state.Wood Ducks move around and do not call continuously. Calls are collected and strung together in order-of-occurrence, grouped by individual, then by like-type.Read more here: https://birdsoftheworld.org/bow/species/wooduc/cur/introductionAll sound is originally recorded by me.The image is used by cc: "Male Wood Duck" by U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service - Northeast Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?ref=openverseI record wildlife and soundscapes for living! Birds are one of my specialties, along with frogs and insects. If you would like to license something you hear on my SoundCloud, inquire about other recordings in my deep library, or discuss recording something specific, send me a message (link in bio). Heck, if you just want to chat about nature sounds and birds, feel free to send me a message!
A short representative sample of Wood Duck recordings. Wood Ducks, Aix sponsa, are common ducks of swamps, marshes, and other riparian habitats in North America. Being the only duck to nest in tree cavities, they depends on the holes drilled by Pileated Woodpeckers, linking the survival of the woodpecker to the success of the duck to best and breed.Noisy and loud, females have multiple calls but their signature all-purpose contact call "ooo-eek" is the most familiar, and once heard it's hard to forget..These birds are low-flyers and often the last to return home at dusk after a day of dispersed foraging. I've been in swamps where it seemed like I was being buzzed by an endless stream of screeching Wood Ducks, flying by mere feet above my head.Each recording here is in two parts -- the first is isolated, clean, and ready for implementation in a media project. The latter half is the sound in its musty, noisy original state.Wood Ducks move around and do not call continuously. Calls are collected and strung together in order-of-occurrence, grouped by individual, then by like-type.Read more here: https://birdsoftheworld.org/bow/species/wooduc/cur/introductionAll sound is originally recorded by me.The image is used by cc: "Male Wood Duck" by U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service - Northeast Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?ref=openverseI record wildlife and soundscapes for living! Birds are one of my specialties, along with frogs and insects. If you would like to license something you hear on my SoundCloud, inquire about other recordings in my deep library, or discuss recording something specific, send me a message (link in bio). Heck, if you just want to chat about nature sounds and birds, feel free to send me a message!
A short representative sample of Wood Duck recordings. Wood Ducks, Aix sponsa, are common ducks of swamps, marshes, and other riparian habitats in North America. Being the only duck to nest in tree cavities, they depends on the holes drilled by Pileated Woodpeckers, linking the survival of the woodpecker to the success of the duck to best and breed.Noisy and loud, females have multiple calls but their signature all-purpose contact call "ooo-eek" is the most familiar, and once heard it's hard to forget..These birds are low-flyers and often the last to return home at dusk after a day of dispersed foraging. I've been in swamps where it seemed like I was being buzzed by an endless stream of screeching Wood Ducks, flying by mere feet above my head.Each recording here is in two parts -- the first is isolated, clean, and ready for implementation in a media project. The latter half is the sound in its musty, noisy original state.Wood Ducks move around and do not call continuously. Calls are collected and strung together in order-of-occurrence, grouped by individual, then by like-type.Read more here: https://birdsoftheworld.org/bow/species/wooduc/cur/introductionAll sound is originally recorded by me.The image is used by cc: "Male Wood Duck" by U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service - Northeast Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?ref=openverseI record wildlife and soundscapes for living! Birds are one of my specialties, along with frogs and insects. If you would like to license something you hear on my SoundCloud, inquire about other recordings in my deep library, or discuss recording something specific, send me a message (link in bio). Heck, if you just want to chat about nature sounds and birds, feel free to send me a message!
Common Nighthawks, Chordeiles minor, circle around in long, swirling loops when courting mates. They call repeatedly with a nasal "peent", interrupted occasionally by a short dive, tucking their wings in to create a spectacular "boom" as the air rushes through their feathers. Being a largely crepuscular behavior, it is more often heard rather than seen. It much of rural North America this is a twilight sound of early Dawn and late Dusk.In one of my favorite places to record, the arid Seep Lakes of Central Washington, the Nighthawks cruise low, often below the lips of the coulees that dot the region. Their booms and calls echo off the canyon walls. One evening, on a "rooftop coulee" (a coulee on a stack), this little bird buzzed me for over an hour. Here's just a tiny snippet.Something I hadn't noticed until recently is the call they make at the start of a dive is staccato, slightly punctuated, as if they're saying "Hey! Lookitthis!" or maybe "Wheee!"Also on #YouTube Nighthawk On TheRooftophttps://youtu.be/dJEsOaGgPBI where you can see fancy spectrogram squiggles and a picture of the couleeImage credit:"Common nighthawk at Seedskadee National Wildlife Refuge Wyoming" by USFWS Mountain Prairie is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?ref=openverse.
AMBLake - Spring Bayley Lake Raven, Croaks, Beeps, Wing Flaps WIP by Andy "soundeziner" Martin
Diverse, constant midnight frog voices dominated by the chuckling-quack of Southern Leopard Frogs and creaking ratchet of Cajun Chorus Frogs with background Spring Peepers.Amazingly, this is just an excerpt from a 10 hour non-stop giggling frog fest.
Veery, Catharus FuscescensAnother LBB Thrush: Little Brown BirdLike the Swainson's Thrush, Hermit Thrush, and Wood Thrush, a Veery's drab brown appearance in no way prepares you for the traditional Thrushy flutiness of its song. A down-turned, slightly depressed song in comparison to the raw beauty of a Swainson's or haunting loneliness of the Hermit and Wood Thrushes, the Veery nonetheless weaves a complex tapestry of beauty.Cleaned for example and raw source included from a parabolic originalimage credit: "grive fauve, veery, zorzal rojizo" by Mark Connolly is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.
Red-eyed Vireo, Vireo olivaceusA common breeding songbird in the woodlands of eastern North America, but found throughout the Pacific Northwest.This delightful little friend was recorded on Summer Solstice, 2024, in Sinlahekin Valley in the Okanogan high country of Washington State in the beautiful Pacific Northwest.Cleaned and original parabolic sourceImage credit: "Red-eyed Vireo" by U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service - Northeast Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?ref=openverse.
Appropriately named after the brilliant gemstone Lapis Lazuli, the Lazuli Bunting is a persistent singer throughout it's range during breeding season.Each male has its own distinct song, usually "crystalized" around two years of age. During their first hatching season, young males may babble experimental notes, but they do not learn from their fathers. Instead, they copy and interpret snippets of song from other adult males beginning their second season, developing their own unique phenology. This crystalizes into a single song unique to that male but part of a "song neighborhood" with other males hatched and fledged in the same breeding territory.Conspicuously perched and showing off their brilliant blue colors, males sing dawn through dusk.Recorded in Sinlahekin Valley on Summer Solstice 2024, this is but one male of many that filled the morning air with beauty. Listen to another recorded nearby here: https://on.soundcloud.com/UjtQYDknPNdseKrx5More about the Lazuli Bunting on eBird: https://ebird.org/species/lazbunimage credit: "BUNTING, LAZULI (4-29-11) sonoita creek state natural area, scc, az -01b" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.
Appropriately named after the brilliant gemstone Lapis Lazuli, the Lazuli Bunting is a persistent singer throughout it's range during breeding season.Each male has its own distinct song, usually "crystalized" around two years of age. During their first hatching season, young males may babble experimental notes, but they do not learn from their fathers. Instead, they copy and interpret snippets of song from other adult males beginning their second season, developing their own unique phenology. This crystalizes into a single song unique to that male but part of a "song neighborhood" with other males hatched and fledged in the same breeding territory.Conspicuously perched and showing off their brilliant blue colors, males sing dawn through dusk.Recorded in Sinlahekin Valley on Summer Solstice 2024, this is but one male of many that filled the morning air with beauty. Listen to another recorded nearby here: https://on.soundcloud.com/yJ7Ssa34uUxojzKZAMore about the Lazuli Bunting on eBird: https://ebird.org/species/lazbunimage credit: "BUNTING, LAZULI (4-29-11) sonoita creek state natural area, scc, az -01b" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.
Eastern Narrowmouth Toads, Gastrophryne carolinensissmall pod in a dense Louisiana swamp, emitting cute little whines as they search for one another during mating season, 2022-04-14crickets, birds, and pig frogs in background, stereo decoded form double mid-side originalphoto is original, on location
Canyon Wren, Catherpes mexicanus, 3 performed songs, singing from top of cliff, parabolic single-species recording, timing condensed, but natural pace, rhythm, and dynamics maintained, clean processed for clarity, family: Wrens
Active Ambient Vocalizations From One Lynx Wandering Nearby Frozen Lake -- the low "goops" you hear are from the lake ice shiftingimage credit: "canada lynx, canadian lynx, lynx, lynx du canada" by Gabe Schp is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.
Active Ambient Vocalizations From One Lynx Wandering Nearby Frozen Lake -- the low "goops" you hear are from the lake ice shiftingimage credit:"canada lynx, canadian lynx, lynx, lynx du canada" by Gabe Schp is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.
I got to spend December 2023 recording in several jungle locations in Costa Rica. The experience was wonderful and inspiring. Most of the trip was spent on Osa Peninsula, in lodges that bordered Parque Nacional Corcovado (Corcovado National Park). With nearly 2.5% of the world's species represented, many of them endemic, it is recognized as one of the most biodiverse regions on the planet.On the same morning as the previous Midnight Chorus recording https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner/cr-fincasueno-midnightchorus, a troop of Golden Mantled Howler Monkeys greeted the Dawn and their neighbors (and the rest of the jungle) the only way they know how. Male mantled howlers have an enlarged hyoid bone, a hollow amplifying bone near their vocal cords that gives the ability to generate great "howling" calls that can heard for kilometers. Howling allows the monkeys to exercise territory and remain in contact without expending energy through movement or bearing the risks of physical confrontation. As someone who likes little more than sitting in a forest listening to nature speak, I approve of this lazing behavior.While this howling is their most well-known vocal characteristic, I'm rather fond of the popping and grunting that warms up to the howl and pads the time in between. It's relatively quiet, and is most noticeable only when near the vocalizing howler. The best description of it that I can think of is like the "vocal fry" not uncommon in many of today's pop singers. Check it out near the start of the first round of howling around 2:40 (link in the comments)After a first round of loud howls, the group takes a break. With what is known about Mantled Howler activity, they're likely sleeping, or maybe eating. After 20-is minutes, they pick up again for a brief session before settling back down. It's possible they've been moving during this time as they're quieter during this round. Finally, just before Sunrise at 05:38 in the morning, they pick up again, slowly building and then tapering off after nearly 30 minutes of vocal exercising.After speaking with other recordists, I know I am far from alone as someone who loves their sound, but I I may be one of the few that enjoys waking up to their calls. Every morning I heard this in the distance or nearby was a morning I walked out to breakfast with a big silly grin on my face.Another voice that has become a personal favorite is the Yellow-throated Toucan, with their rhythmic, bouncing song that seems to carry on forever. There is at least one singing for most of this recording, but you can get your first good listen behind the Howlers at 53:27 or skip ahead to 1:06:02 to hear two singing at each other.Hummingbirds are abundant, and you'll hear their buzzing wings fly by and around the microphones numerous times. Also coming and going are raucous and noisy Scarlet Macaws and Red-lored Parrots, a lone Red-eyed Tree Frog, a visiting Little Tinamou, and more. I'll point out a few voices along the way in the comments, but I'm out of my depth when it comes to identifying neotropical birds, so I'll largely let the ecosystem speak for itself. Feel free to poke around with links in the comments to scoot around the recording, or just let it play out over your morning coffee like I do.Feel like seeing some fancy colors? I've been playing at visualizing soundscapes lately. Check out the video for this recording on YouTube: https://youtu.be/duxU2INkyXI?si=xhIrgiHiOSOk922l
I had the pleasure of spending the month of December 2023 recording in a few different jungle locations in Costa Rica. The experience was wonderful and inspiring. Most of the trip was spent on Osa Peninsula, in lodges that bordered Parque Nacional Corcovado (Corcovado National Park).The peninsula and the park are recognized as one of the most biodiverse regions on the planet, with 2.5% of the world's species represented, many of them endemic.While the history of the park is fraught with controversy dating back to European colonization, the importance of conservation cannot be understated. My recordings are filled with wonderful moments that deserve to be heard. I'm parsing through everything, but I thought I'd start with one of my favorite, 90 minutes midnight insect chorusing. Growing up in the mid-Atlantic states of the US and with roots and time lived in the Deep South, few sounds bring me to a state of transcendence like the orchestrated song of insects at night. The spectrally tight but densely-layered score of hundreds or thousands of insects in concert is soothing to the ears and the best sleep-aid I can experience for myself. From time to time hungry bats flutter past.Normally I'd point out a few voices along the way, but I'm out of my depth when it comes to identifying insects in neotropical forests, so I'll let the ecosystem speak for itself.Recorded at Finca Sueño De Osa Lodge, Puerto Jimenez, Costa RicaParque Nacional Corcovado https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corcovado_National_ParkInterested in my recordings? Contact me here: https://linktr.ee/AndyMartinNatureSound
Common Chlorospingus, Chlorospingus flavopectusFamily PasserellidaeCommon Chlorospingus is a chatty bird heard through the cloud forests of Middle AmericaExcerpt from a long soundscape recording from San Gerardo Biological Station in Provincia Guanacaste, Costa Rica, on the morning of 2023-12-04image credit: "chlorospin des buissons, clorospingo común, common bush tanager, common bush-tanager, common chlorospingus, common tanager finch" by Dario Taraborelli is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.
Black-faced Solitaire, Myadestes melanops - song(background: Common Chlorospingus)Family: TurdidaeThe tonal, metallic voice of the Black-faced Solitaire is heard in dense montane habitats at higher elevations of Costa RicaExcerpt from a long soundscape recording from San Gerardo Biological Station in Provincia Guanacaste, Costa Rica, on the morning of 2023-12-04image credit: "black-faced solitaire" by Dario Taraborelli is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.
Black Hawk-Eagle, Spizaetus tyrannus, calling from a nearby perch early in the morning of 2023-12-04Family: AccipitridaeThe Black Hawk-Eagle is a frequent soarer in the skies of Neotropical American forestsExcerpt from a long soundscape recording from San Gerardo Biological Station in Provincia Guanacaste, Costa Ricaimage credit: "aguililla-negra menor, buse noire, common black hawk, common black-hawk" by Dario Taraborelli is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.
Lineated Foliage-gleaner, Syndactyla subalarisDuetLineated Foliage-gleaners are more likely heard than seen in the dense undergrowth of higher elevation cloud forests of Costa Rica.Family FurnariidaeExcerpt from a long soundscape recording from San Gerardo Biological Station in Provincia Guanacaste, Costa Rica, on the morning of 2023-12-04."buff-browed foliage-gleaner" by Diego Carús is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.
Common Chlorospingus, Chlorospingus flavopectusFamily PasserellidaeCommon Chlorospingus is a chatty bird heard through the cloud forests of Middle AmericaExcerpt from a long soundscape recording from San Gerardo Biological Station in Provincia Guanacaste, Costa Rica, on the morning of 2023-12-04image credit: "chlorospin des buissons, clorospingo común, common bush tanager, common bush-tanager, common chlorospingus, common tanager finch" by Dario Taraborelli is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.
Common Chlorospingus, Chlorospingus flavopectusFamily PasserellidaeCommon Chlorospingus is a chatty bird heard through the cloud forests of Middle AmericaExcerpt from a long soundscape recording from San Gerardo Biological Station in Provincia Guanacaste, Costa Rica, on the morning of 2023-12-04image credit: "chlorospin des buissons, clorospingo común, common bush tanager, common bush-tanager, common chlorospingus, common tanager finch" by Dario Taraborelli is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.
Song Wren, Cyphorhinus phaeocephalusFamily TroglodytidaeThe mechanical, clunky song of the Song Wren, an inhabitant of lowland tropical rainforests of Middle America that is often seen foraging at higher elevations.Excerpt from a long soundscape recording from San Gerardo Biological Station in Provincia Guanacaste, Costa Rica, on the morning of 2023-12-04.original - "song wren" by Dario Taraborelli is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.
Scale-crested Pygmy-Tyrant, Lophotriccus pileatusFamily: TyrannidaeThe piecing-voiced Scale-crested Pygmy-Tyrant ranges in high mountain forests throughout Middle America.Excerpt from a long soundscape recording from San Gerardo Biological Station in Provincia Guanacaste, Costa Rica, on the morning of 2023-12-04.image credit: "scale-crested pygmy tyrant, scale-crested pygmy-tyrant" by Guy Babineau is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.
Scale-crested Pygmy-Tyrant, Lophotriccus pileatusFamily: TyrannidaeThe piecing-voiced Scale-crested Pygmy-Tyrant ranges in high mountain forests throughout Middle America.Excerpt from a long soundscape recording from San Gerardo Biological Station in Provincia Guanacaste, Costa Rica, on the morning of 2023-12-04.image credit: "scale-crested pygmy tyrant, scale-crested pygmy-tyrant" by Guy Babineau is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.
Ochraceous Wren, Troglodytes ochraceus Family: TroglodytidaeEndemic to Costa Rica and Panama, Ochraceous Wrens are often found foraging or singing from mossy trunks and branchesExcerpt from a long soundscape recording from San Gerardo Biological Station in Provincia Guanacaste, Costa Rica, on the morning of 2023-12-04."ochraceous wren" by Malo Ramírez is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.
Black-faced Solitaire, Myadestes melanops - song(background: Common Chlorospingus)Family: TurdidaeThe tonal, metallic voice of the Black-faced Solitaire is heard in dense montane habitats at higher elevations of Costa Rica.Excerpt from a long soundscape recording from San Gerardo Biological Station in Provincia Guanacaste, Costa Rica on the morning of 2023-12-04image credit: "black-faced solitaire" by Dario Taraborelli is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.
Spectacled Owl, Pulsatrix perspicillatacalling from a nearby perch in the pre-Dawn Astronomical Twilight of 2023-12-04Family: StrigidaeThe softly pulsating song of the Spectacled Owl is a common voice in the nighttime chorus of Neotropical forests throughout Middle AmericaExcerpt from a long soundscape recording from San Gerardo Biological Station in Provincia Guanacaste, Costa Ricaimage credit: "búho de anteojos, spectacled owl" by Liam Steele is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/?ref=openverse.
Monos Congos, or Mantled Howler Monkeys, waking the jungle in Costa Rica's Parque Nacional Corcovado.Male Mantled Howlers can be heard from several kilometers away, estimated to be loudest vocalization of any terrestrial mammal. With their distinctive grunt and and calls, they are a defining aspect of the Osa Peninsula's Dawn and Dusk, but they can also be heard throughout the day, generally in response to disturbances.If I'm being honest, my favorite aspect of the Howler's call isn't the call itself, but those wonderful vocal croaks and creaks between calls. The echoes of the beautiful Cost Rican hardwood primary forest and the deep river valley practically hug these voices, letting shine and sing as nothing else.https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mantled_howler
Roosevelt Elk, or Rainforest Elk or Olympic Elk, selected from a brief trip in late September 2023.Recorded in the Queets and Quinalt Rainforest River Valleys, there's often an unavoidable distant wash of river in the background, so each example is very lightly processed with the unprocessed source immediately following.I record elk by leaving recorders out in the field where herds are known to migrate. Occasionally I'm able to follow a herd and record more direct, but I do not want to alarm the herd or stress them unnecessarily, so I often avoid this method.Bugles are multi-toned calls that start low and transition into a scream. During the rut season, Bulls use this to express dominance over other males, warding off potential rivals, and attract potential mates. Outside of the rut they will often bugle when leading a herd.Chuckles, or laughs, sound just like that, a series of short loud grunts. Like bugles, chuckles are used as a form of dominance and attraction call. I've often heard them used when a bull is specifically calling his harem to gather. They'll produce chuckles on their own, or sometimes tag them onto the end of a bugle.image credit: "Roosevelt Elk Bugling-Unknown" by Forest Service Pacific Northwest Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?
Roosevelt Elk, or Rainforest Elk or Olympic Elk, selected from a brief trip in late September 2023.Recorded in the Queets and Quinalt Rainforest River Valleys, there's often an unavoidable distant wash of river in the background, so each example is very lightly processed with the unprocessed source immediately following.I record elk by leaving recorders out in the field where herds are known to migrate. Occasionally I'm able to follow a herd and record more direct, but I do not want to alarm the herd or stress them unnecessarily, so I often avoid this method.Bugles are multi-toned calls that start low and transition into a scream. During the rut season, Bulls use this to express dominance over other males, warding off potential rivals, and attract potential mates. Outside of the rut they will often bugle when leading a herd.Chuckles, or laughs, sound just like that, a series of short loud grunts. Like bugles, chuckles are used as a form of dominance and attraction call. I've often heard them used when a bull is specifically calling his harem to gather. They'll produce chuckles on their own, or sometimes tag them onto the end of a bugle.image credit: "Roosevelt Elk Bugling-Unknown" by Forest Service Pacific Northwest Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?
Roosevelt Elk, or Rainforest Elk or Olympic Elk, selected from a brief trip in late September 2023.Recorded in the Queets and Quinalt Rainforest River Valleys, there's often an unavoidable distant wash of river in the background, so each example is very lightly processed with the unprocessed source immediately following.I record elk by leaving recorders out in the field where herds are known to migrate. Occasionally I'm able to follow a herd and record more direct, but I do not want to alarm the herd or stress them unnecessarily, so I often avoid this method.Bugles are multi-toned calls that start low and transition into a scream. During the rut season, Bulls use this to express dominance over other males, warding off potential rivals, and attract potential mates. Outside of the rut they will often bugle when leading a herd.Chuckles, or laughs, sound just like that, a series of short loud grunts. Like bugles, chuckles are used as a form of dominance and attraction call. I've often heard them used when a bull is specifically calling his harem to gather. They'll produce chuckles on their own, or sometimes tag them onto the end of a bugle.image credit: "Roosevelt Elk Bugling-Unknown" by Forest Service Pacific Northwest Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?
Roosevelt Elk (aka Rainforest Elk or Olympic Elk) bulls challenging for social dominance hours after sunset in late September 2023.Elk live in a fairly well-defined, yet fluid, social hierarchy. Only the biggest or strongest bulls earn the right to mate, so the competition during the female's estrus season is intense. Bulls earn their harem by exerting dominance over other bulls in their territory, either by driving them off or just scaring them off. When a challenger thinks they have what it takes to become the dominant bull they stray into that bull's territory and issue their challenge. If accepted (and it always is), what results is a fierce clash of massive bodies and sharp antlers pushing and shoving until one bull gives in. The battle leaves scars on the ground in the form of huge gashes where antlers and cloven hooves gouged the field and shattered tree branches were flung in the fury.Recorded in the Quinalt Rainforest River Valley, there's an unavoidable distant wash of river in the background. In addition, there had been a heavy rain event just days before. The river was rushing fairly hard as a result, so the below recording is very lightly processed to reduce the influence of that noise. The unprocessed source immediately follows if you want to hear the difference.I record elk by leaving recorders out in the field where herds are known to migrate. Occasionally I'm able to follow a herd and record more direct, but I do not want to alarm the herd or stress them unnecessarily, so I try to avoid this method.Bugles are multi-toned calls that start low and transition into a scream. During the rut season, Bulls use this to express dominance over other males, warding off potential rivals, and attract potential mates. Outside of the rut they will often bugle when leading a herd.Chuckles, or laughs, sound just like that, a series of short loud grunts. Like bugles, chuckles are used as a form of dominance and attraction call. You'll often hear them used when a bull is specifically calling his harem to gather. They produce chuckles on their own, or sometimes tag them onto the end of a bugle.image: A magnificent and iconic Big Leaf Maple, taken the following day narthex scene of the battle.Listen to more bugling and chuckling from this trip in the full playlist here: https://on.soundcloud.com/exa6DListen to an early morning soundscape in the nearby Queets Rainforest with a resident herd of Roosevelt Elk wandering through on their daily route here:https://on.soundcloud.com/sJFsX
Roosevelt Elk, or Rainforest Elk or Olympic Elk, selected from a brief trip in late September 2023.Recorded in the Queets and Quinalt Rainforest River Valleys, there's often an unavoidable distant wash of river in the background, so each example is very lightly processed with the unprocessed source immediately following.I record elk by leaving recorders out in the field where herds are known to migrate. Occasionally I'm able to follow a herd and record more direct, but I do not want to alarm the herd or stress them unnecessarily, so I often avoid this method.Bugles are multi-toned calls that start low and transition into a scream. During the rut season, Bulls use this to express dominance over other males, warding off potential rivals, and attract potential mates. Outside of the rut they will often bugle when leading a herd.Chuckles, or laughs, sound just like that, a series of short loud grunts. Like bugles, chuckles are used as a form of dominance and attraction call. I've often heard them used when a bull is specifically calling his harem to gather. They'll produce chuckles on their own, or sometimes tag them onto the end of a bugle.image credit: "Roosevelt Elk Bugling-Unknown" by Forest Service Pacific Northwest Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?
Roosevelt Elk, or Rainforest Elk or Olympic Elk, selected from a brief trip in late September 2023.Recorded in the Queets and Quinalt Rainforest River Valleys, there's often an unavoidable distant wash of river in the background, so each example is very lightly processed with the unprocessed source immediately following.I record elk by leaving recorders out in the field where herds are known to migrate. Occasionally I'm able to follow a herd and record more direct, but I do not want to alarm the herd or stress them unnecessarily, so I often avoid this method.Bugles are multi-toned calls that start low and transition into a scream. During the rut season, Bulls use this to express dominance over other males, warding off potential rivals, and attract potential mates. Outside of the rut they will often bugle when leading a herd.Chuckles, or laughs, sound just like that, a series of short loud grunts. Like bugles, chuckles are used as a form of dominance and attraction call. I've often heard them used when a bull is specifically calling his harem to gather. They'll produce chuckles on their own, or sometimes tag them onto the end of a bugle.image credit: "Roosevelt Elk Bugling-Unknown" by Forest Service Pacific Northwest Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?
Roosevelt Elk, or Rainforest Elk or Olympic Elk, selected from a brief trip in late September 2023.Recorded in the Queets and Quinalt Rainforest River Valleys, there's often an unavoidable distant wash of river in the background, so each example is very lightly processed with the unprocessed source immediately following.I record elk by leaving recorders out in the field where herds are known to migrate. Occasionally I'm able to follow a herd and record more direct, but I do not want to alarm the herd or stress them unnecessarily, so I often avoid this method.Bugles are multi-toned calls that start low and transition into a scream. During the rut season, Bulls use this to express dominance over other males, warding off potential rivals, and attract potential mates. Outside of the rut they will often bugle when leading a herd.Chuckles, or laughs, sound just like that, a series of short loud grunts. Like bugles, chuckles are used as a form of dominance and attraction call. I've often heard them used when a bull is specifically calling his harem to gather. They'll produce chuckles on their own, or sometimes tag them onto the end of a bugle.image credit: "Roosevelt Elk Bugling-Unknown" by Forest Service Pacific Northwest Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?
Roosevelt Elk, or Rainforest Elk or Olympic Elk, selected from a brief trip in late September 2023.Recorded in the Queets and Quinalt Rainforest River Valleys, there's often an unavoidable distant wash of river in the background, so each example is very lightly processed with the unprocessed source immediately following.I record elk by leaving recorders out in the field where herds are known to migrate. Occasionally I'm able to follow a herd and record more direct, but I do not want to alarm the herd or stress them unnecessarily, so I often avoid this method.Bugles are multi-toned calls that start low and transition into a scream. During the rut season, Bulls use this to express dominance over other males, warding off potential rivals, and attract potential mates. Outside of the rut they will often bugle when leading a herd.Chuckles, or laughs, sound just like that, a series of short loud grunts. Like bugles, chuckles are used as a form of dominance and attraction call. I've often heard them used when a bull is specifically calling his harem to gather. They'll produce chuckles on their own, or sometimes tag them onto the end of a bugle.image credit: "Roosevelt Elk Bugling-Unknown" by Forest Service Pacific Northwest Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?
Roosevelt Elk, or Rainforest Elk or Olympic Elk, selected from a brief trip in late September 2023.Recorded in the Queets and Quinalt Rainforest River Valleys, there's often an unavoidable distant wash of river in the background, so each example is very lightly processed with the unprocessed source immediately following.I record elk by leaving recorders out in the field where herds are known to migrate. Occasionally I'm able to follow a herd and record more direct, but I do not want to alarm the herd or stress them unnecessarily, so I often avoid this method.Bugles are multi-toned calls that start low and transition into a scream. During the rut season, Bulls use this to express dominance over other males, warding off potential rivals, and attract potential mates. Outside of the rut they will often bugle when leading a herd.Chuckles, or laughs, sound just like that, a series of short loud grunts. Like bugles, chuckles are used as a form of dominance and attraction call. I've often heard them used when a bull is specifically calling his harem to gather. They'll produce chuckles on their own, or sometimes tag them onto the end of a bugle.image credit: "Roosevelt Elk Bugling-Unknown" by Forest Service Pacific Northwest Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?
Roosevelt Elk, or Rainforest Elk or Olympic Elk, selected from a brief trip in late September 2023.Recorded in the Queets and Quinalt Rainforest River Valleys, there's often an unavoidable distant wash of river in the background, so each example is very lightly processed with the unprocessed source immediately following.I record elk by leaving recorders out in the field where herds are known to migrate. Occasionally I'm able to follow a herd and record more direct, but I do not want to alarm the herd or stress them unnecessarily, so I often avoid this method.Bugles are multi-toned calls that start low and transition into a scream. During the rut season, Bulls use this to express dominance over other males, warding off potential rivals, and attract potential mates. Outside of the rut they will often bugle when leading a herd.Chuckles, or laughs, sound just like that, a series of short loud grunts. Like bugles, chuckles are used as a form of dominance and attraction call. I've often heard them used when a bull is specifically calling his harem to gather. They'll produce chuckles on their own, or sometimes tag them onto the end of a bugle.image credit: "Roosevelt Elk Bugling-Unknown" by Forest Service Pacific Northwest Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?
A recent Spring Dawn in the Queets Rainforest inside the Olympic National ParkThe air is cool and the light is filtered through a canopy of Sitka Spruce and Douglas Fir, Pacific Chorus Frogs crowded in an ephemeral wet-spot seemingly don't know if it's day or night as they sing around the clock here. The river sounds like a soft pillow in the distance, a dull roar that is more comforting than disturbing, fading away behind a biophonic meditation.As twilight dawns with First light, local birds join the the chorus with the frog. Varied Thrushes with their nasally mysterious alarm-like cry. Pacific Wrens who seemingly believe that everyone needs to hear what they have to say. Song Sparrows with some of the happiest song ever to delight. A Chestnut-backed Chickadee that inspects the microphones, pulling little tufts of the wind protection to pad a nest. Northern Flickers and Chipmunks compete to see who has the best chatter.All the while, the frogs continue on in cycles of chorused and cycles of silence, punctuated only by the occasional encounter trill or inquiring contact croak.
Constant rain with large drops on broadleaf vegetation, some occasional microphone windscreen thumps may be present
Constant rain with large splatty drops under a vegetative canopy, some wind through the higher canopy above
ROOSEVELT ELK - Olympic National Park's "Rainforest Elk" are the largest surviving species of elk in North America, endemic to the Olympic Peninsula but found up and down the Pacific Northwest coastal regions - bugling male in forest glade - recorded with parabolic - clean processed with sourcePHOTO CREDIT: "Roosevelt Elk Bugling-Unknown" by Forest Service Pacific Northwest Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?ref=openverse.
ROOSEVELT ELK - Olympic National Park's "Rainforest Elk" are the largest surviving species of elk in North America, endemic to the Olympic Peninsula but found up and down the Pacific Northwest coastal regions - bugling male in forest glade - recorded with parabolic - clean processed with sourcePHOTO CREDIT: "Roosevelt Elk Bugling-Unknown" by Forest Service Pacific Northwest Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?ref=openverse.
ROOSEVELT ELK - Olympic National Park's "Rainforest Elk" are the largest surviving species of elk in North America, endemic to the Olympic Peninsula but found up and down the Pacific Northwest coastal regions - bugling male in forest glade - recorded with parabolic - clean processed with sourcePHOTO CREDIT: "Roosevelt Elk Bugling-Unknown" by Forest Service Pacific Northwest Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?ref=openverse.
ROOSEVELT ELK - Olympic National Park's "Rainforest Elk" are the largest surviving species of elk in North America, endemic to the Olympic Peninsula but found up and down the Pacific Northwest coastal regions - bugling male in forest glade - recorded with parabolic - clean processed with sourcePHOTO CREDIT: "Roosevelt Elk Bugling-Unknown" by Forest Service Pacific Northwest Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?ref=openverse.
ROOSEVELT ELK - Olympic National Park's "Rainforest Elk" are the largest surviving species of elk in North America, endemic to the Olympic Peninsula but found up and down the Pacific Northwest coastal regions - bugling male in forest glade - recorded with parabolic - clean processed with sourcePHOTO CREDIT: "Roosevelt Elk Bugling-Unknown" by Forest Service Pacific Northwest Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?ref=openverse.
ROOSEVELT ELK - Olympic National Park's "Rainforest Elk" are the largest surviving species of elk in North America, endemic to the Olympic Peninsula but found up and down the Pacific Northwest coastal regions - bugling male in forest glade - recorded with parabolic - clean processed with sourcePHOTO CREDIT: "Roosevelt Elk Bugling-Unknown" by Forest Service Pacific Northwest Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/?ref=openverse.
A long soundscape across Dawn in the Queets River Valley rainforest of the Olympic National Park. Starting in Astronomical Twilight, a small herd of Roosevelt Elk walks in from a distance, though a small forest glade, an away towards the Queets River bed.Early Autumn rainfall and dropping Maple Leaves are the dominant sounds to begin, their pak-pak-spaks are a reminder that time passes, even in the still quiet of a moss-covered forest.Highway 101 in less than 12 miles away, and distant traffic is funneled up the Valley, showing the difficulty of escaping human-generated sound. This has been mitigated somewhat with light processing, but close listening and inspection will make remnants evident. There are no other edits or processes committed.I love the crisp cold air of the rainforests in the fall. Sounds, natural and human generated, carry into the distant. Tucked into my sleeping bag, I lay back in my small tent, listening to the forest awaken. Where once there was just the soft distant wash of the river, the elk are joined by the local birds. Steller's Jays shriek their song with grating-yet-amusing "CHA-CHA-CHA-CHAs". A Northern Saw-whet toots in the forest canopy. Young Varied Thrush practice their songs, not quite reaching the beautiful and haunting signature fluting of their predecessors, instead emitting a silly buzzer-bell-like noise. Pacific Wren singing at the end of their season and the occasional Kingfisher make an appearance as well. Noe of these complete with the sheer vibrance of the elk.Roosevelt Elk or Roosevelt's Wapiti or Rainforest Elk are the largest remaining elk species in North America and thrive in shadowy silences of the Pacific Northwest's temperate rainforests. Bull's bugles and roars echo through the trees, becoming one of the signature sounds of the Olympic Mountains. The cows mew and squeal in return, listening for one another to not wander far astray.The small herd is a tight-nit family group, a with one, maybe two, dominant bulls, five or six cows in their harem, and a handful of young. The dominant bull leads the group on a daily hike, down from the upper valley to the river and back again. Their bugles urge the group, both signaling the direction to go and scolding those that dawdle. As they pass through the glade, their heavy footfall on the vegetative floor thump-thump-thumps their presence as much as the vocalizations and the continued crushing of vegetation as they push by.I can't get enough of their energy. They pull back frequently. No matter how many times I encounter them, Elk never cease to awe me.Click through the comments below for some highlights!
Why, no. I don't know how my microphone windscreen got covered by cow spittle overnight. No idea.
Common Poorwill, Phalaenoptilus nuttallii, a shy nocturnal singer. I've only heard them from a distance, but every time I manage to get a little bit closer. I'm just so sleepy when they're out....
Gray Catbird, Dumetella carolinensis, one long developing song string, clean processed from original parabolic recording family: Mockingbirds and Thrashers
Gray Catbirds are most easily recognizable from their characteristic "mew" like a loud cat, but males are also well known for long, developing song performances that include whistles, squeaks, gurgles, whines, nasal tones, even mimicry of other birds.
If you hear a long seemingly random performance coming from spikey shrubs, listen carefully to the phrasing. Where true Mockingbirds tend to repeat phrases three or more times and Brown Thrashers tend to repeat phrases twice before continuing, Gray Catbirds sing phrases almost at random with some repeated notes.
image credit: "Gray Catbird" by Mike's Birds is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0
Brown Thrasher, Oreoscoptes montanus, four short song strings of repeated motifs, short whistles, glides, mimicry, buzzes and more
Like other members of family Mimidae, Brown Thrashers are skilled mimics and song creators with an extremely varied repertoire of more than 1,100 phrases consisting of slides, whistles, gurgles, clicks, and frequent imitations of other birds.
If you hear a long seemingly random performance coming from spikey shrubs, listen carefully to the phrasing. Where true Mockingbirds tend to repeat phrases three or more times, and Gray Catbirds sing phrases almost at random with some repeated notes, Brown Thrashers tend to repeat phrases twice before continuing.
family: Mockingbirds and Thrashers image credit: "Brown Thrasher" by Alabama Extension is marked with CC0 1.0
Brown Thrasher, Oreoscoptes montanus, one long developing song string of repeated motifs, short whistles, glides, mimicry, buzzes and more family: Mockingbirds and Thrashers image credit: "Brown Thrasher" by Alabama Extension is marked with CC0 1.0
Dawn chorus in a temperate deciduous forest, from quiet air broken by awakening American Robins through an active soundscape with Pygymy Owls, Ruffed Grouse, Flycatchers, and several Robins close far far, including close flutters, Spring season, stereo downmix mastered from original quad Tree Ears recording
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest in Washington, United States
Still air in a cool late Spring night in a temperate deciduous forest, quiet air broken only by a calling Barred Owl, Strix varia, echoing through the forest, mastered stereo mixdown from original quad Tree Ears recording with UsiPro for the front and a Clippy EM272 pair for the rear
This is a very still, very quiet recording. In person you would not be able to detect even the still air. If you hear a bare hint of it in your speakers be careful not to turn up your volume as the owl will be much, much louder.
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest in Washington, United States
Elk bugling and thunderous sounds of running on packed earth, isolated from Double mid-side soundscape original, multiple herds surround campsite in early morning hours, processed with light noise expansion
Recorded in the Beautiful Pacific Northwest in Washington, Untied States
Elk bugles, that most quintessential of elk sounds, isolated from Double mid-side soundscape original, multiple herds surround campsite in early morning hours, processed with light noise expansion
Recorded in the Beautiful Pacific Northwest in Washington, Untied States
Post-roar, male elk have a bouncing, settling vocalization that can only be best described as laughing, isolated from Double mid-side soundscape original, multiple herds surround campsite in early morning hours, processed with light noise expansion
Recorded in the Beautiful Pacific Northwest in Washington, Untied States
Elk roars, no longer majestic animals of the forest, male elk can seem like frightening beasts of the dark when letting out their full-throated chesty roars, isolated from Double mid-side soundscape original, multiple herds surround campsite in early morning hours, processed with light noise expansion
Recorded in the Beautiful Pacific Northwest in Washington, Untied States
, isolated from Double mid-side soundscape original, multiple herds surround campsite in early morning hours, processed with light noise expansion
Recorded in the Beautiful Pacific Northwest in Washington, Untied States
Elk Screams, isolated from Double mid-side soundscape original, multiple herds surround campsite in early morning hours, processed with light noise expansion
Recorded in the Beautiful Pacific Northwest in Washington, Untied States
Colockum GMU, Kittitas Country, WA, midnight rain in a dry raiparian creek, dry scrub land surrounds
Recorded in the Beautiful Pacific Northwest
Colockum Pass, Naneum Reserve, Kittitas County, WA, rare tunderstorm booms on the eastern slope of Cascade Mountains, dry thunder, 2019-08-10
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest in Washington, WA, United States
Western Meadowlark, Sturnella neglecta, song, contact calls, and flush, isolated and processed from original, natural pace and rhythm maintained, family: Troupials and Allies
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest in Washington, United States
image credit: "933 - WESTERN MEADOWLARK (12-2-10) pena blanca lake, scc, az (1)" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
Birds, Songbird, Kinglets, Golden-crowned Kinglet, Regulus satrapa, calls, parabolic single-species recording, processed for clarity, natural pace and rhythym maintained
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest in Washington, Unister States
image credit: "707 - GOLDEN-CROWNED KINGLET (6-2-2015) franklin co, maine -01" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
Birds, Songbird, Kinglets, Golden-crowned Kinglet, Regulus satrapa, songs, parabolic single-species recording, processed for clarity, natural pace and rhythym maintained
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest in Washington, Unister States
image credit: "707 - GOLDEN-CROWNED KINGLET (6-2-2015) franklin co, maine -01" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
Ruby-crowned Kinglet, Regulus calendula, song performance with a series of full songs, short songs, and phrases, parabolic single-species recording, clean-processed for clarity and use, natural rhythm, pace, and dynamics maintained, famly Kinglets, Regulidae
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest in Washington, Unister States
image credit: "708 - RUBY-CROWNED KINGLET (2)" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
Spotted Towhee, Pipilo maculatus, parabolic recording, clean-processed for clarity, natural pace and rhythym maintained, family: New World Sparrows
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Washington, United States
image credit: "860 - SPOTTED TOWHEE (4-4-10) canet road, morro bay, sloc co, ca (4)" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
Brewer's Sparrow, Spizella breweri, long song sequences as performed, parabolic single-species recording, processed for clarity, natural pace and rhythm maintained, family New World Sparrows, characteristic voice of intermountain West Sagebrush steppe environments
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Washington, United States
image credit: "873 - BREWER'S SPARROW (11-8-2018) socorro co, nm -08" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
Chipping Sparrow, Spizella passerina, trilling song, single species parabolic recording, single bird performance, natural pace, rhythm, & dynamics maintained, clean processed for clarity, family: New World Sparrows, common voice of intermixed tree-grass open spaces
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Washington, United States
image credit: "871 - CHIPPING SPARROW (11-18-2015) Patagonia Lake, Santa Cruz Co, AZ" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
Dark-eyed Junco, Junco hyemalis, collected song variations, trills, isolated
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Washington, United States
image credit: "JUNCO, DARK-EYED (9-4-07) -1" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
Savannah Sparrow Passerculus sandwichensis, collected song variants, isolated and processed from originals
These little birds always seem so lonely, perching on a lone field shrub and calling out into the distance over and over and over and over. And over. And over.
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Washington, United States
image credit: "883 - SAVANNAH SPARROW (3-10-2017) san rafael grasslands, santa cruz co, az -02" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
Song Sparrow, Melospiza melodia, Song, parabolic recording, clean-processed for clarity, natural pace and rhythym maintained, family: New World Sparrows
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Washington, United States
image credit: "892 - SONG SPARROW (9-06) attu, ak (6)" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
White-crowned Sparrow, Zonotrichia leucophrys, Songs and Calls, probably an immature bird learning the song or experimenting with variation, parabolic recording, clean-processed for clarity, natural pace and rhthym maintained, family: New World Sparrows
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Washington, United States
image credit: "897 - WHITE-CROWNED SPARROW (1-11-07) nuttalli, canet rd, slo co, ca" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
White-crowned Sparrow, Zonotrichia leucophrys, long performance with repeated song, parabolic recording, clean-processed for clarity, natural pace, rhthym, and dynamics maintained, family: New World Sparrows
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Washington, United States
image credit: "897 - WHITE-CROWNED SPARROW (1-11-07) nuttalli, canet rd, slo co, ca" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
Common Raven, Corvus corax, collection of non-vocal "mechanical" or primarily non-vocal sounds, clicking tongues, bill snaps, whistling, etc, isolated
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Washington, United States
image credit: "653 - COMMON RAVEN ca" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
American Robin, Turdus migratorius, morning song, very long sequence, parabolic recording, processed clean for clarity, natural pacing and rhythm maintained, family Thrushes and Allies, order Passeriformes
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Washington, United States
image credit: "756 - AMERICAN ROBIN (2-2012019) proctor trail, madera canyon, pima co, az -01" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
Hermit Thrush, Catharus guttatus, individual performance, song sequence with an end block of example 8 basic phonemes and variants, isolated from original, natural pace and rhythm maintained
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Washington, United States
image credit: "745 - HERMIT THRUSH (12-16-2017) lake patagonia, santa cruz co, az -01" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
Birds, Songbird, Thrushes and Allies, Varied Thrush, Ixoreus naevius, song, odd, like warming-up practice, perhaps juvenile, parabolic single-species recording, processed for clarity, natural pace and rhthym maintained
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Washington, United States
image credit: Andy Martin, me
Birds, Songbird, Thrush and Allies, Varied Thrush, Ixoreus naevius, song, parabolic single-species recording, processed for clarity, natural pace and rhthym maintained
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Washington, United States
image credit: Andy Martin, me
Swainson's Thrush, Catharus ustulatus, Thrushes and Allies, long take of a single male Swainson's Thrush singing, natural pace and rhythm maintained, cleanly processed from parabolic recording
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Washington, United States
image credit: "744 - SWAINSON'S THRUSH (5-8-2016) patagonia lake, santa cruz co, az -01" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
Birds, Crow, Corvids, Steller's Jay, Cyanocitta stelleri, calls, parabolic single-species recording, processed for clarity, natural pace and rhthym maintained
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Washington, United States
image credit: "638 - STELLER'S JAY (6-13-2014) del norte co, ca -02" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
Rock Wren, Salpinctes obsoletus, long song sequence, isolated from Double mid-side original, natural pace and rhythm maintained
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Washington, United States
image credit: "690 - ROCK WREN (11-8-11) 78 circulo montana, patagonia lake ranch estates, scc, az - (7)" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
I am joining forces with George Vlad and Thomas Beverly to raise money for environmental causes this holiday season. The three of us have a deep love of nature and actively work to preserve the natural soundscapes through our field recording. We are each donating some of our recordings as a prize to encourage donations.
I am donating a custom selection of mastered bird, insect, mammal, and amphibian sounds and select soundscapes from the Pacific Northwest. These sounds are unavailable commercially, and are normally packaged in custom libraries and sound design projects.
All proceeds will go to benefit three different charities. My share will go to Conservation Northwest, https://www.conservationnw.org/ and organization with a mission to protect, connect and restore wildlands and wildlife from the Washington Coast to the British Columbia Rockies.
Contribute at Thomas' online shop here: https://thomasrexbeverly.com/collections/sound-libraries/products/giving-contest-2021
I am joining forces with George Vlad and Thomas Beverly to raise money for environmental causes this holiday season. The three of us have a deep love of nature and actively work to preserve the natural soundscapes through our field recording. We are each donating some of our recordings as a prize to encourage donations.
I am donating a custom selection of mastered bird, insect, mammal, and amphibian sounds and select soundscapes from the Pacific Northwest. These sounds are unavailable commercially, and are normally packaged in custom libraries and sound design projects.
43 bird species across 19 families, 4 species of crickets, Rocky's Elk, Douglas Pine Squirrel, Coyotes, Pacific Chorus Frogs, American Bullfrogs, and one lone unidentified insect have been carefully recorded, mastered, and edited to best represent the individual species and reflect the variety of life found in the Pacific Northwest. These valuable recordings are not immersive soundscapes, but single-species sounds, ready-to-go to be dropped into your project with minimal preparation.
All proceeds will go to benefit three different charities. My share will go to Conservation Northwest, https://www.conservationnw.org/ and organization with a mission to protect, connect and restore wildlands and wildlife from the Washington Coast to the British Columbia Rockies.
Contribute at Thomas' online shop here: https://thomasrexbeverly.com/collections/sound-libraries/products/giving-contest-2021
Bird Species in this library (and heard in this preview): American Goldfinch American Robin Barred Owl Black-capped Chickadee Black-throated Gray Warbler Brewer's Blackbird Brewer's Sparrow Brown Creeper Brown Thrasher Canyon Wren Chipping Sparrow Cliff Swallow Common Loon Common Nighthawk Common Poorwill Common Raven Dark-eyed Junco Golden-crowned Kinglet Hermit Thrush Hutton's Vireo Marsh Wren Mourning Dove Olive-sided Flycatcher Pacific Wren Pacific-slope Flycatcher Red-winged Blackbird Rock Wren Ruby-crowned Kinglet Ruffed Grouse Savannah Sparrow Song Sparrow Spotted Towhee Steller's Jay Swainson's Thrush Tree Swallow Varied Thrush Western Meadowlark Western Wood-pewee White-crowned Sparrow Willow Flycatcher Wilson's Warbler Yellow-breasted Chat Yellow-headed Blackbird
12min - 0415am, First Light 12-54 min - 0415-0457, DAWN 54min - 0457am, Sunrise
Large wildfires are once again uncontrollably threatening much of the intermountain west in North America. Just 5 miles/ 8 km from the oncoming edge of the Cub Creek fire here in Washington is one of my most favorite places to record anywhere. Thirtymile Meadows is one of the very few places I know of in the continuous 48 United States that is neither rainforest nor remote island where I can set up my microphones, press record, and expect a soundscape free of human-generated noise for at least 4 hours to be the result. Sometimes it can be up to nearly a day. This was a little more than a month ago, the morning of Summer Solstice. It’s merely an excerpt.
I don’t know if I’ll be able to record there again, at least not a soundscape such as this, filled with birdsong. It’s highly likely my next trip with be filled with the whistling winds that wind around burned snags, the creaking of swaying barren trunks, perhaps the snapping and falling of dead wood.
Stands up on soapbox: These forests depend upon fire for their very survival, but the rejuvenating fire that feeds their growth is low-level, fuel-consuming, and under-story burning. It cracks open seeds for hardy conifers. It clears room for new seedlings. It brings down larger diseased trees, returning their nutrients to the soil. The fires we see raging now are not those fires. For decades we have managed these forests by preventing fire without clearing the accumulating fuels. In the effort to keep “timber stock” available for logging and to protect the encroaching human settlements, all fire is suppressed. Weakened and dried by the advancement of climate change, trees age without replacement while dense, dry growth builds up beneath. A simple spark (a lightning strike, an untended campfire, the hot under-carriage of a vehicle, a cigarette butt) is all that is needed to start a conflagration that does not clear and rejuvenate, but destroys. With both the understory and tree cover gone, the ground becomes loose and rocky. The Autumn rains, Winter snows, and Spring melts wash away the fertile soils that nurse future growth. We lose forest, and it doesn’t grow back. Not all of it. The interiors are safe for now, and can slowly re-grow over the ensuing decades if left un-molested. The edges are gone, however, and each successive fire and monsoon season scales them back farther. Thirtymile Meadows is at a unique interface of interior, edge, and wet meadow. The meadow will survive, as should the deep forest to its Northeast. The Southwest edge, though, will disappear if the Cub Creek Fire reaches it. Already scarred by human-caused fires nearly twenty years ago, the Southern edge is dry, fuel-filled, and loose.
I don’t have an answer. I don’t have a plan. I just want to make people aware.
I also want to share the beauty of soundscapes that are in danger of disappearing, whether from noise pollution or ecosystem loss.
If you've ever been in a Northern forest and thought you heard some tiny creature maniacally laughing at you, chances are it was the Golden-crowned Kinglet, Regulus satrapa. A hardy yet tiny bird, the Golden-crown Kinglet is found throughout the boreal forest of North America. I happened to record this little fellow on the Olympic Peninsula where they are resident in June of 2021.
This is a clean-processed recording. All background sound and noise has been carefully removed in an effort to focus on the bird's voice.
Read more about Golden-crowned Kinglets at All About Birds: https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Golden-crowned_Kinglet
If you'd like to hear more or license bird sounds for your project, feel free to message me directly in SoundCloud or click on one of my too-many social media buttons. Happy Listening!
image credit: "707 - GOLDEN-CROWNED KINGLET (6-2-2015) franklin co, maine -01" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
A tiny little bird with an outsized voice, the Ruby-crowned Kinglet, Regulus calendula, is a bird of the Northern forests. Fearless defenders of their nests, males have been known to chase away Canada Jay mobs raiding for egg meals. The bird in this recording was putting on a continual arial display while I sat eating my lunch. Perched out on a fir limb around 20 feet up, it would sing and promptly flit out around 4-5 feet. After a few somersaults and maybe a hover it would return to the perch (or another nearby) and repeat. I say it did this while I ate my lunch... that just happens to be when I recorded it. It began its display during dawn while I slept nearby in a tent and continued with hardly a break through dusk.
I've been posting clean-processed recordings lately, with an eye towards celebrating the birds' voices. I chose to leave this one un-mastered, "raw" save for removing mic bumps and me coughing, just to show how quiet the location is. Adjust your volume until the Kinglet is at a comfortable listening level. That's what it was like.
Read more about Ruby-crowned Kinglets at All About Birds: www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Ruby-crowned_Kinglet
If you'd like to hear more or license bird sounds for your project, feel free to message me directly in SoundCloud or click on one of my too-many social media buttons. Happy Listening!
Image credit: "708 - RUBY-CROWNED KINGLET (2)" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
The Willow Flycatcher, Empidonax traillii, looks as most Tyrant Flycatchers do: challenging, daring you to identify it. The Tyrant Flycatchers all bear a striking resemblance to one another, with some species being almost impossible to discern until they open their beaks to sing. Their buzzy, sharp, staccato syllables are as key to correctly identifying one as the bright patterns and colorations on more vibrant birds. Unlike most songbirds, Flycatchers don't learn their songs from their parents, but are born knowing it. Willow Flycatchers play a key role in testing this as researchers raised chicks from hatchling hearing only the songs of other Flycatchers, yet as they matured they knew and sang the Willow Flycatcher fitz-pew as if they'd never heard anything else.
Read more about Willow Flycatchers at All About Birds: https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Willow_Flycatcher/
If you'd like to hear more or license bird sounds for your project, feel free to message me directly in SoundCloud or click on one of my too-many social media buttons. Happy Listening!
Image Credit "578 - WILLOW FLYCATCHER (6-4-08) carrizo, saucito ranch lower spring, carrizo plain nat mon, slo co, ca" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
I don't often share the process I go through in prepping bird recordings for licensing and presentation, so I thought I'd share an A-B demonstration. In rapid-fire succession here are a number of Willow Flycatcher song clips, each immediately followed by the original.
The Willow Flycatcher, Empidonax traillii, looks as most Tyrant Flycatchers do: challenging, daring you to identify it. The Tyrant Flycatchers all bear a striking resemblance to one another, with some species being almost impossible to discern until they open their beaks to sing. Their buzzy, sharp, staccato syllables are as key to correctly identifying one as the bright patterns and colorations on more vibrant birds.
Unlike most songbirds, Flycatchers don't learn their songs from their parents, but are born knowing it. Willow Flycatchers play a key role in testing this as researchers raised chicks from hatchling hearing only the songs of other Flycatchers, yet as they matured they knew and sang the Willow Flycatcher fitz-pew as if they'd never heard anything else.
Read more about Willow Flycatchers at All About Birds: https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Willow_Flycatcher/
The idea of cleaning and processing birdsong is controversial in some circles as it "removes the bird from the environment it sings in". I agree with that sentiment, but I also record lots of soundscapes which showcase just that voice-environment relationship. I want to highlight the song itself and present it as clearly and intelligibly as possible while still maintaining the integrity of the bird's voice itself. Also, I sell and use sound effects. Sound designers in a hurry much more prefer something they can drop-in and use than anything they'll need to clean themselves.
If you'd like to hear more or license bird sounds for your project, feel free to message me directly in SoundCloud or click on one of my too-many social media buttons. Happy Listening!
Image Credit "578 - WILLOW FLYCATCHER (6-4-08) carrizo, saucito ranch lower spring, carrizo plain nat mon, slo co, ca" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
Brewer's Sparrow, Spizella breweri, is a highly abundant Sagebrush steppe bird of North America, yet it's more likely heard than seen. Tiny and well-matched for hiding the bunches it calls home, they are just as comfortable clambering through Sagebrush like rodents as they are fluttering from one low bush to another. I had my first encounter with in a high subalpine Sagebrush meadow in the Okanogan Mountains last week.
Their mirthful, playful, bubbling voices are a joy and a delight to encounter. The song seems to tumble uncontrollably out of their mouths as they teeter back-and-forth on the swaying tips of sage stalks or other thin vegetation. In fact, the sheer effort of the song seems to prevent them from sitting still, and their heads twist and turn with every phrase.
This performance is actually several male Brewer's Sparrows singing or counter-singing to one another. I've clean-processed the recording for clarity as there was some swing-distortion and multiple distances involved, but the integrity of the performances are left as-is.
The idea of cleaning and processing birdsong is controversial in some circles as it "removes the bird from the environment it sings in". I agree with that sentiment, but I also record lots of soundscapes which showcase just that voice-environment relationship. I want to highlight the song itself and present it as clearly and intelligibly as possible while still maintaining the integrity of the bird's voice itself. Consider this a love note to the bird's voice, not the bushes and meadows.
Also, I sell and use sound effects. Sound designers in a hurry much more prefer something they can drop-in and use than anything they'll need to clean themselves. Oh yeah, feel free to message directly in SoundCloud or click on one of my too-many social media buttons to contact me if you'd like to learn more. Happy Listening!
Read more about Brewer's Sparrows at All About Birds: www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Brewers_Sparrow/
image credit: "873 - BREWER'S SPARROW (11-8-2018) socorro co, nm -08" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
A major BNSF line runs along the Columbia River Gorge that forms the border between Washington and Oregon states, moving freight and other traffic between the coastal harbors and the interiors.
I took the opportunity of my wife's short business trip to Yakima (I'm the one with the vehicle)to camp overnight near the rail and record the comings and goings with minimal traffic. Not only do I love recording trains, these monstrous powerful beasts that roar like steel dragons, I had also just acquired my first 32-bit recorder and something this dynamic and loud seemed like a good test of it's capabilities.
These trains are long, and heavy, often requiring 2-4 engines to pull and another 1-3 to push. The spot I chose was in the middle of a long run where the trains are able to open full-throttle. A little rough-hand math can give us the length. At an assumed speed of 55mph/ 88.5kph (though usually faster), taking 1m46s to pass means this particular train was roughly 1.62 miles/ 2.6 km in length.
Minutes-to-pass divided by 60 minutes per hour gives us the fraction of an hour in time. Multiplied that by velocity yields length. Math!
(minutes/60)mph=miles (minutes/60)kph=kilometers
This is just one sample of the 22 passes that came by that night.
As always, if you hear something you like or would like to hear more for licensing or general listening, please message me either directly through SoundCloud or click on one of the way-too-many social media links above.
Happy listening!
A major BNSF line runs along the Columbia River Gorge that forms the border between Washington and Oregon states, moving freight and other traffic between the coastal harbors and the interiors.
I took the opportunity of my wife's short business trip to Yakima (I'm the one with the vehicle)to camp overnight near the rail and record the comings and goings with minimal traffic. Not only do I love recording trains, these monstrous powerful beasts that roar like steel dragons, I had also just acquired my first 32-bit recorder and something this dynamic and loud seemed like a good test of it's capabilities.
These trains are long, and heavy, often requiring 2-4 engines to pull and another 1-3 to push. The spot I chose was in the middle of a long run where the trains are able to open full-throttle. A little rough-hand math can give us the length. At an assumed speed of 55mph/ 88.5kph (though usually faster), taking 1m56s to pass means this particular train was roughly 1.77 miles/ 2.85 km in length.
Minutes-to-pass divided by 60 minutes per hour gives us the fraction of an hour in time. Multiplied that by velocity yields length. Math!
(minutes/60)mph=miles (minutes/60)kph=kilometers
This is just one sample of the 22 passes that came by that night.
As always, if you hear something you like or would like to hear more for licensing or general listening, please message me either directly through SoundCloud or click on one of the way-too-many social media links above.
Happy listening!
A major BNSF line runs along the Columbia River Gorge that forms the border between Washington and Oregon states, moving freight and other traffic between the coastal harbors and the interiors.
I took the opportunity of my wife's short business trip to Yakima (I'm the one with the vehicle)to camp overnight near the rail and record the comings and goings with minimal traffic. Not only do I love recording trains, these monstrous powerful beasts that roar like steel dragons, I had also just acquired my first 32-bit recorder and something this dynamic and loud seemed like a good test of it's capabilities.
These trains are long, and heavy, often requiring 2-4 engines to pull and another 1-3 to push. The spot I chose was in the middle of a long run where the trains are able to open full-throttle. A little rough-hand math can give us the length. At an assumed speed of 55mph/ 88.5kph (though usually faster), taking 1m37s to pass means this particular train was roughly 1.48 miles/ 2.38 km in length.
Minutes-to-pass divided by 60 minutes per hour gives us the fraction of an hour in time. Multiplied that by velocity yields length. Math!
(minutes/60)mph=miles (minutes/60)kph=kilometers
This is just one sample of the 22 passes that came by that night.
As always, if you hear something you like or would like to hear more for licensing or general listening, please message me either directly through SoundCloud or click on one of the way-too-many social media links above.
Happy listening!
A major BNSF line runs along the Columbia River Gorge that forms the border between Washington and Oregon states, moving freight and other traffic between the coastal harbors and the interiors.
I took the opportunity of my wife's short business trip to Yakima (I'm the one with the vehicle)to camp overnight near the rail and record the comings and goings with minimal traffic. Not only do I love recording trains, these monstrous powerful beasts that roar like steel dragons, I had also just acquired my first 32-bit recorder and something this dynamic and loud seemed like a good test of it's capabilities.
These trains are long, and heavy, often requiring 2-4 engines to pull and another 1-3 to push. The spot I chose was in the middle of a long run where the trains are able to open full-throttle. A little rough-hand math can give us the length. At an assumed speed of 55mph/ 88.5kph (though usually faster), taking 2m15s to pass means this particular train was roughly 2 miles/ 3.32 km in length.
Minutes-to-pass divided by 60 minutes per hour gives us the fraction of an hour in time. Multiplied that by velocity yields length. Math!
(minutes/60)mph=miles (minutes/60)kph=kilometers
This is just one sample of the 22 passes that came by that night.
As always, if you hear something you like or would like to hear more for licensing or general listening, please message me either directly through SoundCloud or click on one of the way-too-many social media links above.
Happy listening!
Cliff Swallows, Petrochelidon pyrrhonota, are garrulous, squeaky, clanky, just all-around awesome little birds. Highly social birds that often live in massive colonies, they nest in cracks and crevices in cliff walls -- hence their name -- making their homes out of mud and sticky spit. Yum.
Often "singing" from the entrance of their home, close recording is extremely difficult. This short collection were captured with a parabolic, isolated, and processed clean for sound effects' use.
Learn more at All About Birds; https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/cliff_swallow
Image Credit: "667 - CLIFF SWALLOW (6-25-2016) denali highway, mile p13 pass, near paxson, alaska -02" by Sloalan is marked under CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/cc0/1.0/
(UNMASTERED, recorded on 2021-04-27) The Varied Thrush, Ixoreus naevius, is a wisp in the forests of the Pacific Northwest. Singing its songs from deep within the trees, difficult to locate in somber reverberate, its voice seems to emanate from the forest itself, crying, "Listen. Listen. Listen."
On rare occasions, such as today, you may be graced with a visit while on a recording journey.
Sharing the stage today is a Wilson's Warbler, almost begging the Varied Thrush to come forward to be witnessed.
Olive-Sided Flycatcher, Contopus cooperi, famous for being the bird that orders, "Quick! Three beers!" Proof that even stodgy old birders know how to party. This song sequence was captured with a parabolic, processed clean for sound effects' use while maintaining natural rhythm and pace
Learn more at All About Birds: https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Olive-sided_Flycatcher
Image Credit: "570 - OLIVE-SIDED FLYCATCHER (5-8-2020) guindani trail, whetstone mts, cochise co, az -02" by Sloalan is marked under CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/cc0/1.0/
Pacific-Slope Flycatcher, Empidonax difficilis
A long song sequence captured with a parabolic, processed clean for sound effects' use while maintaining natural rhythm and pace
Learn more at All About Birds: https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Pacific-slope_Flycatcher
Image Credit: "583 - PACIFIC-SLOPE FLYCATCHER (9-16-13) patagonia lake scc, az -01" by Sloalan is marked under CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/cc0/1.0/
Brewer's Sparrow, Spizella breweri, is a highly abundant Sagebrush bird of North America, yet it's more well heard than seen. Tiny and well-matched for hiding the bunches it calls home, they are just as comfortable clambering through Sagebrush like rodents as they are fluttering from one low bush to another.
https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Brewers_Sparrow/
Image credits "873 - BREWER'S SPARROW (11-8-2018) socorro co, nm -08" by Sloalan is marked under CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/cc0/1.0/
Recently I had the pleasure to spend several days recording on the wonderfully-named Skull and Crossbones Ridge in the Loomis Natural Resources Conservation Area in Okanogan County. The ridge marks a fascinating intermix of three dominant habitats in the NRCA: subalpine wet meadow, mountain sagebrush scrub, and forest consisting of Lodgepole Pine, Subalpine Fir, and Alpine Larch.
Due to an approaching ridge of low pressure, it was fairly windy all day, every day, but there were a few distinct moments of still air. Surprisingly, and delightfully, one of those moments was across the Dawn (First Light to Sunrise) period. Because I haven't shared a long recording recently, the first track in this playlist is a "Long Dawn". Being just after Summer Solstice, First Light was at 0409 on this day, 2021 June 25. The recording itself begins in near-silence at 0341, with the first local bird voice coming from an awakening American Robin about 15s in. Most of the nearby nesters have dispersed well-before sunrise at 0457, but the mountain winds were beginning their return. I let the recording continuer nearly another half-hour until 0526 to hear the onrush of cooler mountain flowing across the ridge.
Some of the many voices you'll hear in this recording are American Robins, Chipping Sparrows, White-crowned Sparrows, Brewer's Sparrows, Dark-eyed Juncos, Washington Ground Squirrels, Clark's Nutcrakers, Ruby-crowned Kinglets, Swainson's Thrushes, a Western Wood Pewee, possibly a Vesper Sparrow, and also quite possibly me coughing from a distance of around 250 feet (76m) because I just can't keep myself quiet.
On an enjoyment note, because we're currently undergoing an historic once-in-a-thousand-years heatwave here in Seattle I was forced to lightly master these recordings on headphones whilst fans blast me from all angles in my little studio room. I'm not suggesting that you should only listen to them on headphones, but they'll likely translate best that way. My mastering doesn't involve a whole lot of processing, mostly just some low-end control when it's extra-windy and critical choices about how to decode from double mid-side (my preferred recording method) to stereo for SoundCloud playback, but it's enough that listening on a nice set of headphones will give you a closer approximation of what I heard when I clicked "upload".
As always, if you like something you hear and would like to license it or something similar for use or simply download it for further listening enjoyment, feel free to reach out to me by direct messaging here on SoundCloud or clicking one of my far-too-many social media connections above.
Happy listening!
I'm feeling pretty lucky right now. I was gifted this song last night by a little Swainson's Thrush that lived around my campsite. An excerpt from a 15 minute performance. I hadn't been ready to record yet (I was making supper). This beautiful bird perched approximately 9m away and about 3m upon a Red Alder, at the edge of a cut clearing surrounded by young Western Hemlock and Redcedar. It was dusk and most other nearby birds were silent. I'd like to think they were enraptured but the thrush.
This excerpt is directly from the SD card, unaltered except to fade-in and fade-out. I tried to stay quiet, but I do have a tendency to unconsciously wiggle from time to time, so there may be a slight shuffle or two. A few flies pass by.
Honestly, I'm feeling pretty lucky right about now.
(technical for those interested: recorder: Sound Devices MixPre6 microphone: MicBooster Pluggy, mounted in a Wildtronics Universal Parabolic dish) original wav recording at 24bits, 192k, feel free to reach out if you'd like to hear/ license the original or full recording or more recordings from the same location)
On the morning of 2021 May 17, I stepped out of my tent next to my favorite Okanogan wetland to collect a recorder and microphones I'd left attached to a pole the night. It was a cool, crisp Spring morning, but the life and voices of the marsh and lake were as active as always. This recording covers the Dawn Chorus, from 23 minutes before First Light (at 22:55, 04:46:58 PDT, click the comments below to playback directly) and through Sunrise (at 50:49, 05:14:41 PDT) for almost 90 minutes of what was really hours of singing and foraging.
The wind was light, and the cool air helped project voices across the lake. As always Red-winged Blackbirds, that most North American of wetland songbirds, flew about, singing, chasing, and defining territories. I was delighted to hear a Brewer's Blackbird, a shy cousin of the Red-winged, popping in and out of the mix. Their quick almost mechanical sounding songs can be easy to miss and often confused with a squeak of a fence. They have two prominent songs, a hinge-like squeak (23:39), and a soft "shuk-shuuk" like a film camera auto-winding between frames (24:29). For the '80s kids among us, I think it sounds more like a Kodak Disc Camera, but I digress...
Also hanging out, literally, are a pair of bats just trying to get some sleep (52:14 and later). I would have easily confused their audible chatter for the Tree Swallows that harried them endlessly, but watching it happen with my own eyes confirmed what I later heard on the recording. The 15 foot pole was topped by a large bucket to be used as a nesting box for waterfowl. This morning chattery Tree Swallows were using it as a resting spot between aerial acrobatics. The sleeping bats clinging to the underside of the bucket, however, did not like this idea and would angrily chatter and chase them away, at least until they finally fell fast asleep themselves.
Speaking of chatter boxes, a Song Sparrow (23:31) took up residence on a nearby shrub and lived up to his name, delivering clear variations of his song, playing with melody like a maestro. A Common Yellowthroat (43:47) flew in and out of the same shrub, trying to sing in or around the Sparrow, but his anxious warble never quite had the same thrilling clarity.
Songbirds aren't the only residents here, though. Across the lake, Canada Geese fly in-and-out, bringing their echoing honks with them, Pied-billed Grebes whoop-whoop almost seemingly out of control (47:12).
Prominent voices in this recording include Song Sparrows, Red-winged Blackbirds, Brewer's Blackbirds, Common Yellowthroats, Canada Geese, and Pied-Billed Grebes. When there's a lull in the background the occasional Western Meadowlark, Chickadee, Spotted Towhee, Chipping Sparrow, Yellow Chat, Tree Swallow, Mallard, American Wigeon, and Wood Duck.
There is a tucked-away lake in a secluded little valley in a wildlife refuge in Northeast Washington where every sound rings through like bells in winter. A few days ago (mid-May, 2021) I happened to be recording shoreside at dawn when a pair of Ravens made their way in and around. Their intimate vocalizations and amused conversations make me smile, but I also feel a guilty as if I'm listening to a private conversation without they consent.
A Golden-crowned Kinglet, distant American Robins and Black-headed Grosbeaks, chatty Yellow Warblers, a Ruffed Grouse, and even a family of beavers also make a subtle appearance in this quiet scene, but the real story is the Ravens and their croaks, awks, uh-ohs, and ooks and their giant wing flaps.
Enjoy.
A blend of a lower, focused, and steady placement and a higher, unsteady, chaotic placement, they form a nice blustery image that really gives the feel of being in the middle of experience
Just over the Cascade Ridge, in the foothills above Ellensburg, WA, lies one of the best wind energy locations in Washington. Acres upon acres of wind turbines dot the area, soaking up the downslope wind that shoots through from Spring through Autumn, pressurized by Stampede Pass. It's harsh, arid area, receiving little more than 9 inches of rain per year. The flora that inhabits it's steep terrain and winding canyons are dominated by desert-hardy plants, from bunch grasses to wildflowers to the ever-present sagebrush.
I love the soft rush of sagebrush when wind passes through. With fine, soft leaves atop flimsy little stems that cover the stiff, twisted, gnarly main stems and branches, sagebrush resists wind just enough to whip back-and-forth to produce a turbulent, buffeting whoosh before springing back into position.
A few days ago steady winds were pouring through at 25-35 mph (21-30 knots) with gusts upwards of 49mph (42.5 knots). The magic of sagebrush-filled canyons is that while in the open stretches the sage grows in short little clumps, deep in the canyons where the wind doesn't reach bushes can grow huge, harboring all kinds of fauna from meadowlarks to sparrows to voles to deer and more. But there's a place in-between, where the steady wind doesn't quite reach but the gusts do. That's where I set my mics, inhabiting a large bush.
The front pair had strong wind protection and were placed a bit lower, with the hopes that they would receive less buffeting and yield a softer touch. The rear pair had less protection and were placed higher up, where they'd be buffeted hard and tossed back-and-forth as the branches whipped in the gusts.
Unmastered, these tracks are direct from the recorder.
In quad the result is a chaotic rear that comes into focus as the wind flows forward to the front. Like a sonic mullet: business in front, fun in the back. Unfortunately, Soundcloud doesn't support quad audio playback, just stereo, so please reach out to me if you'd like to hear the quad versions.
Blended in stereo they form a nice blustery image that really gives the feel of being in the middle of experience.
Enjoy this 1:30 slice of two days of recording. As always, message me if you're interested in hearing more or licensing any content.
Placed higher with less wind protection, these are the rear pair. With more direct buffeting and an unsteady position, they are the chaotic essence of gusty wind.
Just over the Cascade Ridge, in the foothills above Ellensburg, WA, lies one of the best wind energy locations in Washington. Acres upon acres of wind turbines dot the area, soaking up the downslope wind that shoots through from Spring through Autumn, pressurized by Stampede Pass. It's harsh, arid area, receiving little more than 9 inches of rain per year. The flora that inhabits it's steep terrain and winding canyons are dominated by desert-hardy plants, from bunch grasses to wildflowers to the ever-present sagebrush.
I love the soft rush of sagebrush when wind passes through. With fine, soft leaves atop flimsy little stems that cover the stiff, twisted, gnarly main stems and branches, sagebrush resists wind just enough to whip back-and-forth to produce a turbulent, buffeting whoosh before springing back into position.
A few days ago steady winds were pouring through at 25-35 mph (21-30 knots) with gusts upwards of 49mph (42.5 knots). The magic of sagebrush-filled canyons is that while in the open stretches the sage grows in short little clumps, deep in the canyons where the wind doesn't reach bushes can grow huge, harboring all kinds of fauna from meadowlarks to sparrows to voles to deer and more. But there's a place in-between, where the steady wind doesn't quite reach but the gusts do. That's where I set my mics, inhabiting a large bush.
The front pair had strong wind protection and were placed a bit lower, with the hopes that they would receive less buffeting and yield a softer touch. The rear pair had less protection and were placed higher up, where they'd be buffeted hard and tossed back-and-forth as the branches whipped in the gusts.
Unmastered, these tracks are direct from the recorder.
In quad the result is a chaotic rear that comes into focus as the wind flows forward to the front. Like a sonic mullet: business in front, fun in the back. Unfortunately, Soundcloud doesn't support quad audio playback, just stereo, so please reach out to me if you'd like to hear the quad versions.
Blended in stereo they form a nice blustery image that really gives the feel of being in the middle of the experience.
Enjoy this 1:30 slice of two days of recording. As always, message me if you're interested in hearing more or licensing any content.
Placed low and secure, these are the front pair. With less direct buffeting and a steadier position, they provide focus in a chaotic situation.
Just over the Cascade Ridge, in the foothills above Ellensburg, WA, lies one of the best wind energy locations in Washington. Acres upon acres of wind turbines dot the area, soaking up the downslope wind that shoots through from Spring through Autumn, pressurized by Stampede Pass. It's harsh, arid area, receiving little more than 9 inches of rain per year. The flora that inhabits it's steep terrain and winding canyons are dominated by desert-hardy plants, from bunch grasses to wildflowers to the ever-present sagebrush.
I love the soft rush of sagebrush when wind passes through. With fine, soft leaves atop flimsy little stems that cover the stiff, twisted, gnarly main stems and branches, sagebrush resists wind just enough to whip back-and-forth to produce a turbulent, buffeting whoosh before springing back into position.
A few days ago steady winds were pouring through at 25-35 mph (21-30 knots) with gusts upwards of 49mph (42.5 knots). The magic of sagebrush-filled canyons is that while in the open stretches the sage grows in short little clumps, deep in the canyons where the wind doesn't reach bushes can grow huge, harboring all kinds of fauna from meadowlarks to sparrows to voles to deer and more. But there's a place in-between, where the steady wind doesn't quite reach but the gusts do. That's where I set my mics, inhabiting a large bush.
The front pair had strong wind protection and were placed a bit lower, with the hopes that they would receive less buffeting and yield a softer touch. The rear pair had less protection and were placed higher up, where they'd be buffeted hard and tossed back-and-forth as the branches whipped in the gusts.
Unmastered, these tracks are direct from the recorder.
In quad the result is a chaotic rear that comes into focus as the wind flows forward to the front. Like a sonic mullet: business in front, fun in the back. Unfortunately, Soundcloud doesn't support quad audio playback, just stereo, so please reach out to me if you'd like to hear the quad versions.
Blended in stereo they form a nice blustery image that really gives the feel of being in the middle of the experience.
Enjoy this 1:30 slice of two days of recording. As always, message me if you're interested in hearing more or licensing any content.
(UNMASTERED, recorded on 2021-04-27) Pacific Wrens are the Red-winged Blackbirds of the forest. Don’t get me wrong -- I love both. They have lively, spritely personalities with unqiue vocalizations. The problem is that they JUST WON’T SHUT UP, and they’re incredibly loud. They’re the aural equivalent of obnoxiously purposeful photo bombers. My interactions with Pacific Wrens go something like this: Me: Oh, there’s a lovely Varied Th-- Wren: HEY!!!!! DID YOU SEE THAT VARIED THRUSH OVER THERE? DID YOU HEAR IT MAYBE? IT’S REALLY COOL! BY THE WAY HAVE YOU HEARD PACIFIC WREN LATELY????!?? Me: I was really just tryin-- Wren: HEY!!!! IT’S ME AGAIN!! DID YOU MISS ME? I SEE YOU’RE TRYING TO FIND THAT VARIED THRUSH. I THINK IT FLEW OFF. FORTUNATELY I’M HERE TO SING IN YOUR EAR!!!!!! Me: Oh, that unfortu-- Wren: HEY!!!!! HAVE YOU MET MY FAMILY YET??? THEY’RE RIGHT HERE WITH ME IN THE NEXT FIVE TREE!! THERE WAS A GOLDEN-CROWNED KINGLET HERE EARLIER BUT IT DIDN’T SEEM LIKE THE VERY FRIENDLY TYPE AND FLEW OFF AFTER WE ARRIVED!!!! Me: Ah, that’s why I don’t hear it anymo-- Wren: HEY!!! THAT VARIED THRUSH IS BACK!! YOU SHOULD GO RECORD IT!! IT’S RIGHT BEHIND ME. NO WAIT. IT’S GONE AGAIN. SHY LITTLE BUGGERS, AREN’T THEY????? Me: -- Wren: HEY!!! I SEE YOU HAVE A PARABOLIC DISH THERE! I BET YOU CAN HEAR THINGS FROM FAR AWAY REALLY LOUD THROUGH THAT THING. HANG ON A SEC. I’M GONNA FLY TO THAT TREE OVER THERE, THE ONE YOU’RE POINTING AT WITH ONLY ONE KINGLET AND NO PACIFIC WRENS IN IT AND I’LL SING TO YOU. SEE IF YOU CAN HEAR ME.
"WREN, WINTER (10-30-10) humboldt cyn, patagonia hills, scc, az -01" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
I often say that I'm searching for "Story" in nature recording. It's not easy to convey what I mean, but while more sit-com than drama, this recording captures the essence. Coyotes are highly vocal in their contact yips and howls. I think it's a beautiful sound, but that may only be from the relative infrequency with which I am treated to their yells. This Steller's Jay lives with it every morning and night and seems to have had enough of it this morning.
A lone Grey Wolf howls in the late morning, losing itself to the natural reverb of a glacial valley
Grey Wolves were all but extirpated from Washington early in the last century. They've been on a slow but steady recovery now for decades. While still a species of high concern in the Northwest, occasions of hearing their mournful cries are thankfully becoming more and more common.
This is not without controversy, unfortunately, as ranchers fear their livelihoods will be destroyed and hunters express concern over the competition for game animals. My general feeling is this is good, however. The mass numbers of humanity living in former wolf territory and the introduction of highly destructive and invasive farm and game animals such as cattle, pigs, chickens, bullfrogs, pheasant, etc, have had long-lasting, oft-permanent destructive consequences on our ecological systems. That wolves are able to reclaim some territory on their own despite the historical effort to eliminate them is a testimony to their tenacity as a species.
The challenges are great, though, and humanity does not make it easy for other apex predators to survive in a world we claim as our own to despoil at will. Wolves need help all around North America. To help recovery efforts and the benefits they can provide, consider supporting a conservation effort such as The International Wolf Center https://wolf.org or a sanctuary and rehabilitation center such as Wolf Haven International https://wolfhaven.org. For more information on their spread and recovery in Washington, read this informational pamphlet from the Washington Department of Fish & Wildlife https://bit.ly/2NvfgXW
Coyotes and Wolves seemingly not wanting to be outdone, their howls drown in the lush reverberation of a deep basaltic-walled glacial valley.
Grey Wolves were all but extirpated from Washington early in the last century. They've been on a slow but steady recovery now for decades, assisted by a few relocated individuals from Canada. While still a species of high concern in the Northwest, occasions of hearing their cries are thankfully becoming more and more common.
This is not without controversy, unfortunately, as ranchers fear their livelihoods will be destroyed and hunters express concern over the competition for game animals. My general feeling is this is good, however. The mass numbers of humanity living in former wolf territory and the introduction of highly destructive and invasive farm and game animals such as cattle, pigs, chickens, bullfrogs, pheasant, etc, have had long-lasting, oft-permanent destructive consequences on our ecological systems. That wolves are able to reclaim some territory on their own despite the historical effort to eliminate them is a testimony to their tenacity as a species.
The challenges are great, though, and humanity does not make it easy for other apex predators to survive in a world we claim as our own to despoil at will. Wolves need help all around North America. To help recovery efforts and the benefits they can provide, consider supporting a conservation effort such as The International Wolf Center https://wolf.org or a sanctuary and rehabilitation center such as Wolf Haven International https://wolfhaven.org. For more information on their spread and recovery in Washington, read this informational pamphlet from the Washington Department of Fish & Wildlife https://bit.ly/2NvfgXW
I'm contributing some sounds to an upcoming crowdsourced Water & Ice sound effects library. For my contribution, I pulled recordings from a coincidentally-timed recording trip. I recently spent a few very (very) cold nights camped next to a few frozen lakes listening to (and recording) their heaving and sighing and cracking and sloshing. This is a preview of what I heard and will be in the library.
This track is from a pair of omni mics set a little up the bank from the ice's edge. I wanted to capture not the nuanced details of settling and cracking ice, but the soothing-but-eery dispersion echoes and sloshing of the ice far out on the lake.
There is plenty more where this came from. Fell free to message me if you're interested in hearing more.
I'm contributing some sounds to an upcoming crowdsourced Water & Ice sound effects library. For my contribution, I pulled recordings from a coincidentally-timed recording trip. I recently spent a few very (very) cold nights camped next to a few frozen lakes listening to (and recording) their heaving and sighing and cracking and sloshing. This is a preview of what I heard and will be in the library.
For this track I set a pair of small omni mics right at the edge of the ice to listen to the very close and quiet settling and crackling created when the ice was disturbed by the general water movement.
There is plenty more where this came from. Fell free to message me if you're interested in hearing more.
I'm contributing some sounds to an upcoming crowdsourced Water & Ice sound effects library. For my contribution, I pulled recordings from a coincidentally-timed recording trip. I recently spent a few very (very) cold nights camped next to a few frozen lakes listening to (and recording) their heaving and sighing and cracking and sloshing. This is a preview of what I heard and will be in the library.
This is a short compilation of some really cool sounds emanating from the lakes. I must emphasize that there is no processing here (other than simple editing). Th method here was just set the mics up and let the ice sing (and then edit the takes together). This compilation represents 25 takes that will be included in the crowdsourced library.
There is plenty more where this came from. Fell free to message me if you're interested in hearing more.
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
Ice swells and heaves on a frozen lake at night, 2 POVs from different sides of lake raw, unmastered, just here for a preview
At 2.5 miles Ape Cave is the longest continuous lava tube in the contiguous United States, and the third longest in North America. Formed approximately 2000 years ago, it's difficult yet fun hike. From time to time I like to venture in and record all night (to avoid the disturbance of other hikers during the day).
In November 2019 I returned for another night of hiking and recording. This time I made sure to avoid the splats and smacks on backpacks from the previous trip. It didn't hurt, too, that I had much longer cables and could rest farther down the tunnel and around a bend than I could previously.
At 2.5 miles Ape Cave is the longest continuous lava tube in the contiguous United States, and the third longest in North America. Formed approximately 2000 years ago, it's difficult yet fun hike. From time to time I like to venture in and record all night (to avoid the disturbance of other hikers during the day).
In November 2019 I returned for another night of hiking and recording. This time I made sure to avoid the splats and smacks on backpacks from the previous trip. It didn't hurt, too, that I had much longer cables and could rest farther down the tunnel and around a bend than I could previously.
At 2.5 miles Ape Cave is the longest continuous lava tube in the contiguous United States, and the third longest in North America. Formed approximately 2000 years ago, it's difficult yet fun hike. From time to time I like to venture in and record all night (to avoid the disturbance of other hikers during the day).
In November 2019 I returned for another night of hiking and recording. This time I made sure to avoid the splats and smacks on backpacks from the previous trip. It didn't hurt, too, that I had much longer cables and could rest farther down the tunnel and around a bend than I could previously.
At 2.5 miles Ape Cave is the longest continuous lava tube in the contiguous United States, and the third longest in North America. Formed approximately 2000 years ago, it's difficult yet fun hike. From time to time I like to venture in and record all night (to avoid the disturbance of other hikers during the day).
In November 2019 I returned for another night of hiking and recording. This time I made sure to avoid the splats and smacks on backpacks from the previous trip. It didn't hurt, too, that I had much longer cables and could rest farther down the tunnel and around a bend than I could previously.
At 2.5 miles Ape Cave is the longest continuous lava tube in the contiguous United States, and the third longest in North America. Formed approximately 2000 years ago, it's difficult yet fun hike. In December 2017 I spent a night hiking and meditating through the cave with a good friend. There's nothing quite like the peace and quiet of a lonely cave to help you focus on your thoughts.
It had been particularly rainy and snowy the previous couple of weeks, so there was a lot of saturated groundwater dripping through.
At 2.5 miles Ape Cave is the longest continuous lava tube in the contiguous United States, and the third longest in North America. Formed approximately 2000 years ago, it's difficult yet fun hike. In December 2017 I spent a night hiking and meditating through the cave with a good friend. There's nothing quite like the peace and quiet of a lonely cave to help you focus on your thoughts.
It had been particularly rainy and snowy the previous couple of weeks, so there was a lot of saturated groundwater dripping through. In this track you'll hear the occasional thumps, splats, and smacks of a rather poorly placed backpack. Oops. Lesson learned.
At 2.5 miles Ape Cave is the longest continuous lava tube in the contiguous United States, and the third longest in North America. Formed approximately 2000 years ago, it's difficult yet fun hike. In December 2017 I spent a night hiking and meditating through the cave with a good friend. There's nothing quite like the peace and quiet of a lonely cave to help you focus on your thoughts.
It had been particularly rainy and snowy the previous couple of weeks, so there was a lot of saturated groundwater dripping through.
At 2.5 miles Ape Cave is the longest continuous lava tube in the contiguous United States, and the third longest in North America. Formed approximately 2000 years ago, it's difficult yet fun hike. In December 2017 I spent a night hiking and meditating through the cave with a good friend. There's nothing quite like the peace and quiet of a lonely cave to help you focus on your thoughts.
It had been particularly rainy and snowy the previous couple of weeks, so there was a lot of saturated groundwater dripping through.
At 2.5 miles Ape Cave is the longest continuous lava tube in the contiguous United States, and the third longest in North America. Formed approximately 2000 years ago, it's difficult yet fun hike. In December 2017 I spent a night hiking and meditating through the cave with a good friend. There's nothing quite like the peace and quiet of a lonely cave to help you focus on your thoughts.
It had been particularly rainy and snowy the previous couple of weeks, so there was a lot of saturated groundwater dripping through.
Odd twittery pop vocalizations and beak snaps from a North American Common Raven, August 2020
Processed to remove unwanted noise
Trogdor the Rooster. After every crow roosters make this sound like they're either aggravated at having to crow or distressed at the effort it took. Give the lineage we know from theropod dinosaurs down to birds, I now imagine Tyrannosaurs feeling compelled to crow like this every morning, including the frustration at the end. Maybe it's frustration at trying to use those tiny little arms to do anything. Recorder: SD702 Sennheiser MKH8060
Recently I learned about the Veery or Catharus Fuscescens. I'd known the name but but paid attention. Even in their breeding range they barely bump into my usual listening haunts.
Now, every so often while recording a popular and common Pacific Northwest Voice, the Swainson's Thrush, I'd hear a particularly sad sounding song. Swainson's have a beautiful uplifting, spiraling away flute-like sound. It's joyful, happy, almost glorifying in its beauty, so hearing a sad song is out of place. I'd always thought that sad song was just a dialect, perhaps a Swainson's that was experimenting, learning.
Nope. It turns out it's a Veery, a close relative of the Swainson's Thrush and Hermit Thrush.
image credit: "Very unhappy veery" by Andrew Weitzel is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0
In the quiet of the Hoh Rainforest of Olympic National Park, heavy rain falls on Vine Maples and dense underbrush of ferns, grasses, and other large-leaf ground cover. On this day, 2020-09-23, the park saw nearly its entire expected monthly precipitation (6.37 in/ 162 mm) in one 24 hour hard rainfall (5.93 in/ 151 mm), swelling the Hoh River into a raging monster that swept away trees along the shore. This recording is from an in-land quiet area about four miles into the Hoh River Trail.
Sometimes I hear people talking about "the sound of rain in a forest" as being just a single, monolithic sound that covers the entire forest, or even all forests. To these people I suggest to Listen More. Close your eyes and take it in. No recording can do justice to feeling of being there, the smell of cedar in the air and soil beneath your feet, the feeling of water dripping down your faces and fogging your glasses, the damp chill as your clothes soak in the moisture. No recording carries with it the green all around you, the quiet elk browsing in the forest to your side, the slow falling leaves knocked from branches by hard raindrops. But still, still a recording can convey some of the subtleties of the immediate surroundings, some of the details that go into making one tree sing like another does not.
Vine Maples are a common sight throughout the coastal forests of the Pacific Northwest. A shrubby tree that occasionally grows to significant size when left un-disturbed, it's often laden with thick matts of moss that absorb just as much rain as they do sound. The broad leaves of the maple catch raindrops with a loud splat, splashing off to moisten everything nearby. The drops that make it through the canopy hit ferns and other broadleaf understory plants, creating a "floor" of sound that acts as a counterpoint to the diffuse conifer spray up above. In calmer, less intense rainfall you can almost hear individual drops as they drip-drip-drip down from the sky and through the blankets of moss that continue to "rain" long after actual water has stopped falling from the sky.
In the quiet of the Hoh Rainforest of Olympic National Park, heavy rain falls on tall stands of Sitka Spruce. On this day, 2020-09-23, the park saw nearly its entire expected monthly precipitation (6.37 in/ 162 mm) in one 24 hour hard rainfall (5.93 in/ 151 mm), swelling the Hoh River into a raging monster that swept away trees along the shore. This recording is from an in-land quiet area about four miles into the Hoh River Trail.
Sometimes I hear people talking about "the sound of rain in a forest" as being just a single, monolithic sound that covers the entire forest, or even all forests. To these people I suggest to Listen More. Close your eyes and take it in. No recording can do justice to feeling of being there, the smell of cedar in the air and soil beneath your feet, the feeling of water dripping down your faces and fogging your glasses, the damp chill as your clothes soak in the moisture. No recording carries with it the green all around you, the quiet elk browsing in the forest to your side, the slow falling leaves knocked from branches by hard raindrops. But still, still a recording can convey some of the subtleties of the immediate surroundings, some of the details that go into making one tree sing like another does not.
Sitka Spruce, like other conifers, carries a spray-like sound when under pouring rain. Its fine needle-like leaves act as tiny diffusors, absorbing the energy of rainfall and turning the drops into mist. Tall, majestic trees, among the tallest anywhere, they are common sights in the coastal forests of the Pacific Northwest.
In the still, quiet night air of the Olympic National Park's Queets Rain Forest river valley, a lone Barred Owl sings from a nearby tree. It's voice echoing off the majestic trees of this old-growth rain forest, it calls longingly, awaiting an answer from the darkness that may never come.
While taking my college-aged child on a 2020 quarantine-fueled road trip of some of my favorite recording places, we were gifted by the world with this beautiful Dawn Chorus at Forde Lake.
From the 0419 am First light through Sunrise we listen to the world wake up through the canopy of deciduous coverage near the slow-moving Sinlahekin Creek. Light rain briefly patters on Quaking Aspen and Maple above and big leaf ground foliage below, and a wind tousles the leafs with a papery-breath.
This location was a favorite of several local Yellow-breasted Chat, but even they can't drown out the Wilson's Snipe, California Quail, and Veery.
While taking my college-aged child on a 2020 quarantine-fueled road trip of some of my favorite recording places, we were gifted by the world with this beautiful and dense Dawn Chorus at Long Swamp.
Starting in Astronomical Twilight at 0353 am, 23 minutes before First Light, and running through 40 minutes after Sunrise, this track features a wetland shrub area in Long Swamp and faint water burbles from Long Swamp Creek, while distant wash from drainage near campground provides a stable bed. The stage is set for a dense chorus that really get going around 10 minutes in. Included in the roster of voices and sounds are Olive-sided Flycatcher, Willow Flycatcher, Western Wood Pewee, Wilson's Warbler, Orange-crowned Warbler, Yellow Warbler, American Robin, Hermit Thrush, Swainson's Thrush, Lincoln's Sparrow, Song Sparrow, Savannah Sparrow, Ruby-crowned Kinglet, Warbling Vireo, Wilson's Snipe
While taking my college-aged child on a 2020 quarantine-fueled road trip of some of my favorite recording places, we were gifted by the world with this beautiful Dawn Chorus near Forde Lake.
From the 0419 am First light through Sunrise, I wanted to know what the dawn sounded like to a tree. Hanging a pair of small omni in "tree ears" fashion about 6 feet up in a young Ponderosa Pine, we discovered that Lazuli Bunting and Spotted Towhee were in extreme abundance in the immediately proximate area. In the distance you can hear a variety of other voices, including California Quail, Ring-necked Pheasant, Sparrows of several varieties, Thrushes, Warblers, and my new favorite singer, the Yellow-breasted Chat.
A particularly chatty Yellow-breasted Chat provides us a long pre-Dawn soliloquy while hanging out in some deciduous coverage with the microphones. Nearby Pied-billed Grebe and cattle make the occasional appearance. An AmericanRobin even makes a brief appearance just before First Light at the end of this track.
This lively dawn chorus was recorded in a small pothole coulee in Eastern Washington, one of the numerous Seep Lakes of the Channeled Scablands. This is the Columbia Plateau, a large basalt flow cut through by the Columbia River. During the last ice age, 10-20 thousand years ago, the ice dam blocking Glacial Lake Missoula collapsed, unleashing one of the largest known ancient mega-floods. This flood, and dozens of smaller floods swept through Washington to the Columbia River. It washed the topsoil off much of the plateau, ripping out chunks of basalt and eroding great channels we call coulees. The best known of these is the Grand Coulee, known both for its size and for the dam that filled it with water. Early white settlers in the area called this land "scablands" because nothing could grow on it. In the 1900s the Columbia Basin Project, the largest water reclamation project in the US, saw the creation of a network of dams and reservoirs including the Grand Coulee. Responsible for the upheaval and forced relocation of thousands of indigenous peoples, eliminating their access to the migratory Salmon their lives relied upon, decimated fish stocks above the dams, and rendering numerous towns and settlements uninhabitable, the CBP worthy of a longer history lesson another day. The expansion of agriculture production has been proven beneficial, turning North Central Washington into one of the largest and most productive tree fruit producing areas on the planet. One unintended consequence that is either beneficial or disastrous depending your outlook has been the hydrological seepage from the reservoirs into the many downstream coulees and potholes, resulting in the creation of hundreds of lakes of varying sizes. These brand new wetland ecosystems quickly became popular with migratory and resident wetland birds who now call them home. They are also regularly stocked and prove popular fishing destinations. The pothole coulee this recording is from is one of those new wetlands. One final history/ ecological history lesson: the American Bullfrog is indigenous to the eastern portion of North America. It's historical range just barely reached what is now the Oklahoma. During the Gold Rush period of the 1800s they were imported to the West to meet the "sophisticated tastes" of wealthy East Coasters. Frog farms were set up throughout California, Oregon, and Washington to meet demand. When demand died and the farms closed, farmers released their stock in wetlands, creating one of the most voracious invasive pests in the West. Read more about it here: https://www.spokesman.com/stories/2004/aug/15/bad-news-bullfrogs/ I have mixed feelings when I hear bullfrogs in the soundscape. They're an invasive, dangerous pest. But can we, WILL we be able to restrain them back to their original range? It's doubtful. Just as Pigeons, European Starlings, Chukar, and Pheasants among other species have become an indelible part of our wild spaces, should bullfrogs just be accepted? I'm mixed. I love the sound of a bullfrog chorus. It's pretty spectacular. It's also a sign of a wetland zone. If I hear bullfrogs, I go looking. So to the recording… This is a true Dawn chorus. Tt captures the entire Dawn, from First Light, 4:33 AM, through Sunrise, 5:03 AM. There are three dominant voices here: Coulee crickets (I'm not making this up: Anabrus longipes), Yellow-headed Blackbirds, which, if I had to pick, would be my single favorite bird, and the Bullfrogs. Listen to the crickets, thick and lush in the twilight, slowly drop off and become a sparser presence towards the end. In a few hours they'll stop singing during the period the sun is highest. You'll also hear of Canyon Wrens, with their mournful drooping, Red-winged Blackbirds, Common Nighthawks, Tree Swallows, and a distant Rock Wren. Click through the comments and markers in the soundcloud track for callouts of some of the various voices.
At Northwest Soundscapes: http://soundeziner.com/2020/06/coulee-dawn/
blog: http://soundeziner.com/2020/05/long-swamp-dusk-20190716/
I’ve fallen in love with the Okanogan mountains, the wet meadows, swampy bogs, forests, grassy ridge tops, and more. Most of the naturally quiet locations are difficult to reach from Seattle, but that’s fine by me. It just means more opportunities to record with without interruption.
On the night of 2019-07-17 I camped, once again, near Long Swamp. I’d spent the previous night and Dawn at the Long Swamp Campground (https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner/long-swamp-dawn), but this night I found a location further up the drainage with more open water.
There are plenty of residents, full-time and transitory, in Long Swamp. Song Sparrows, Lincoln’s Sparrows, Swainson’s Thrushes, American Robins, Mallard Ducks and more make their homes here. There was activity all around.
The air was still as I sat down to record; the temperature a chill 60ºF/ 15.5ºC, and the moon was expected to be full. By the start of this recording at 1944, I was long settled into my tent for a nice evening of listening.
I could hear distinct non-song vocalization from Swainson’s Thrushes. The crisp clear air, chill wetland water, and hardwood reflections off nearby trees made for the perfect medium. Listen to the one-note call of a nearby Swainson’s: at 12m35s (1957) It works through fitful song-starts to buzzes and churls as it warms up 13m08s (1958). By the time he’s opened up for his full song at 15m40s (1800), he’s been joined by distant rivals on all sides. Each is as clear as he is. Only their volume betrays their distance.
If you’re wondering “churl” is, check out the series at 18m08s (1803). Most birders call it “churr”, and the phonetics are really more of a “tchik-wOow”, but I really like the descriptive appeal of “churl” a lot more. Besides, it’s fun to say, “Those thrushes sure are churlish today, aren’t they?”
The local Thrushes wander off by 20m50s (2005), and we're left with a period of distant mingling song before our first Song Sparrow shows up around 24m16s (2009). Song Sparrows are fun to listen to for their spritely personalities the range of songs each bird goes through. Individual pulls from a variety of distinct phrases to develop its own repertoire. It can be easy to be fooled into believing you’re surrounded by multiple sparrows, when it’s really just one. Check it out: 1h01m12s (2046) — over the next 50 seconds this one individual pulls out four slight variations of the same theme. Again at 1h06m24s (2051) And again at 1h11m50s (2057) — he does it again over two minutes.
Take a listen to this ten minute stretch from 0623 the following morning https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner/20190717-long-swamp-dawn#t=1:55:50 It’s not necessarily the same bird from evening, but this is clearly one individual going through at least five distinct variations and many subtle permutations in one long sitting. So. Much. Fun.
Sun set this evening at 2047 or 1h02m31s, signaling the start of Dusk. It’s a common misconception that Dusk is the period before sunset. Just as Dawn ends with the sun’s rise over the horizon, so does Dusk start when it dips below. Dusk ends with Last Light and Civil Twilight makes way to Nautical Twilight at the same time. This occurs when the sun is about 6 degrees below the horizon. On clear days there’s just enough light for most outdoor activities that don’t require reading. Tonight that Changeover is 2127 at 1h42m31s.
This evening comes to a quiet close with what has long been one of my favorite mystery sounds at 1h49m45s (2124) This noisy insect — one of the few we have here in Washington — is a frequent, loud voice throughout the inland forests of the Pacific Northwest. I have yet to find a reliable identification of it. It often goes unnoticed due to its high pitch. The bulk of its acoustic energy is between 12.6kHz and 14.5kHz, out of range for many adults, especially males over 45. If you have a name for it, please leave a comment below or message me.
blog: http://soundeziner.com/2020/05/long-swamp-dawn-20190717/
This is my last Long Swamp post. I promise. From 2019.
As I mentioned in last night's Dusk track, https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner/20190716-long-swamp-dusk, I've fallen in love with the mountains of the Okanogan. The wet meadows, swampy bogs, dense forests, deep riparian zones, grassy ridge tops, and more are perfect for finding sonically rich, naturally quiet locations. Most of the special places are difficult to reach from Seattle, but that’s fine by me. It means more opportunities to record with without interruption.
The morning starts crisp, clear, and early, with the first local voice an early-rising Song Sparrow at 0m21s (0428). He's soon joined by a Swainson's Thrush who works through a minute of one-note calls, then buzzes and churls, before finally breaking into full, beautiful song at 2m17s (0430). His dense, spiraling, ethereal notes spin away like fluted wisps in the morning. I listen in awe.
A fellow thrush and close cousin of the Swainson's, an American Robin, finally wakes up enough to join full-throated at 4m23s (0432). I usually expect to hear Robins before anyone else, but everyone's out-and-about early in this still dark twilight.
There isn't much of a wait for light, though. The 0434 Dawn begins at 5m58s with First Light, when the sun is just 6 degrees below the horizon and the first fingers of sunlight creep across the hills. Nautical Twilight is over, with Civil Twilight not far behind.
At 8m43s (0436) a Lincoln's Sparrow joins the chorus. Like Song Sparrows, they have a wide individual repertoire. I'd not heard this variation before camping at Long Swamp, and it delights me every time I hear it now.
As if to show off how well song carries in this place, an Olive-Sided Flycatcher sings "Quick! THREE beers!" in the deep background. You can hear it well at 17m43s (0445) while everyone else rests. Birders have a reputation as boring or stodgy older folks. That the common phonetics for these little birds is "Quick! THREE beers!" leads me to think it's a cover. We're partying folk at heart. Pull up to the pub. Quick! Three beers! Not two. Not just one, but THREE beers!
This isn't just a place for songbirds. A Mallard rants on about the difficult life of a duck while wading around the swamp, being particularly petulant at 34m37s (0503).
The 0515 sunrise at 46m58s brings an end to Dawn and a start to daylight hours. That doesn't bring an end to the chorus, though, which carries on as if time is just a construct of the mind. Soon, however, the chipmunks wake up and start their constant territorial squabbling and chittering. From 55m54s (0524) onward the birds have heavy sonic competition. Perhaps this encourages them to begin foraging. Perhaps it's just a useful time to pack it in. In any case, I'm quickly reminded that chipmunks are skittish can be alarmed by anything, such as discovering a set of microphones near their home at 59m59s (0528). This powerful blast represents the one "edit" I've made to this recording, dropping the volume of the chitters by more than 12 decibels. You're welcome for your speakers not being overloaded, by the way.
By 1h11m42s (0540) the Dawn chorus is largely over, and all the actors have dispersed for a day of foraging, living, and territorial squabbling. Locally, from 1h19m30s (0548) to 1h45m0s (0614), the soundscape is a mix of wandering chipmunks and nearby waterfowl activity, most likely a Mallard family browsing about. I love hearing scuttling and fluttering, but feathered splashing nearby always stands out as something a little more special to my ears. It may just be that its a sound I don't hear around the house from pets, so I'm drawn to its subtle familiarity-yet-alien-ness.
Speaking of fluttering, soft chatter of Tree Swallows darts around a long-winded Song Sparrow from 2h02m55s (0632) on. Both flutter and skip around the microphones as they carry on.
I sit and listen, a silent, smiling guest.
Just a few miles away and a little farther up the mountains from Thirtymile Meadows (https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner/20190714_thirtymiledawn) can be found Long Swamp, a very large, highly biodiverse wetland complex. Like the wet meadows, swamps in this area form through the collection of meltwater of the preceding winter. Unlike the shallow bowls of the meadows, though, the swamps form in the shallow creased valleys between rising prominences. Sometimes the water drains away into a creek at the end of the of the valley, but they are just as likely to simply seep slowly into the topsoil to re-appear elsewhere as a natural spring. Long Swamp does both.
This morning Long Swamp was playing host to Lincoln's Sparrows, Wilson's Snipe, Wilson's Warblers, woodpeckers, Willow Flycatchers, Olive-Sided Flycatchers,Western Tanagers, White-crowned Sparrows, Hermit Thrushes, American Robins, Ravens, Cedar Waxwings, Warbling Vireos, Northern Flickers, a large mammal that wandered through around the 2h46m mark, and another around 4h47m.
I'd like to say that this was a true long, unbroken soundscape, but I did find the need to remove three aircraft that buzzed through over the course of five hours. Other than that, there was very little done to clean this recording. Bordering the Pasayten Wilderness to the West, Long Swamp is a nearly pristine environment.
Beginning around twenty minutes before first light in the last few minutes of Nautical Twilight, it's easy to see that some birds are early risers. Wilson's Snipe are are crepuscular, so we can expect to hear the swoop winnowing of their tails, but I was surprised to hear the high fluting of Hermit Thrushes and buzzy "zip-pew!" of Willow Flycatchers already filling the air. Barely nine minutes into the recording and a White-crowned Sparrow practices the first part of his song to our left. Fifteen minutes later and we hear the morning tuk-tuk laughter of an American Robin. By First Light at 0434 (22 minutes)we're able to hear the "Quick! Three beers!" of Olive-Sided Flycatchers and the distant trilling of Lincoln's Sparrows. Through this period chipmunks have been scattering about, already signaling their territory with rapid fire chitters. Around 0459 (25 minutes) a Western Tanager begins to come into focus. Sounding like lazy Robins, they are easily confused. The easiest way to hear the difference is to learn the general cadence. Tanagers pause after every 5-10 "lines". Robins, however, sing in blocks of 4-6 "lines", but barely pause before plowing through. With so much activity already occurring around us, the 0513 sunrise (1h01m) goes by barely noticed. What I truly love about listening to a place like Long Swamp is the ebb and flow of life. Whether it's woodpeckers hunting too the fluted tunes of Hermit Thrushes at 3h54m or the chipmunk taking over just a minute later at 3h56m, the frustrated "kyew" of a Northern Flicker at 4h37m or the fast zoom of a large insect or hummingbird at 4h25m, there's always activity, the literal humming and buzzing of life. It goes on all around us every day wherever we are. Tucked inside our dense, noisy urban and suburban homes it's easy to forget and to believe that humanity is life. Far from those urban centers, though, stripped of noisy cars and cellphones and H/VAC systems and airplanes are places like Long Swamp, where natural life continues unabated or stressed by the rigors of anthropogenic sounds.
Long Swamp also appears on my blog, here: http://soundeziner.com/2020/05/long-swamp/
Thirtymile Meadows is a wet, subalpine meadow high in the Okanogan National Forest. A natural shallow bowl, it collects meltwater from each winter and slowly drains away through innumerable soft tinkling streams. In such a wide open space it can be difficult to know where to point microphones. When I visited in the Summer of 2019 I was never certain where the next morning's dawn chorus would arrive from. Past migrant season there was no consistent resting place for the wildlife every night.
Filled with chipmunks, Hermit Thrushes, Olive-sided Flycatchers, Lincoln's Sparrows, White-crowned Sparrows, Woodpeckers, Ravens, Clark's Nutcrackers, American Robins, and more, the meadow is a feast for the eyes and ears of the quiet observer.
This meadow and the surrounding scarred forest are still recovering from the massive Thirtymile Wildfire that began from an unattended campfire almost 20 years ago. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thirtymile_Fire They stand as a testimony to the resilience of nature against all that we humans throw at it. Fragile ecosystems are stronger than we once believed, but our negligence does them no favors.
This is the same meadow as our friend the coyote. In fact, this recording is from the very same overnight. https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner/sets/coyote-in-the-high-country
Beginning in twilight silence, we progress through the earliest voices of First Light at 32 minutes and Sunrise at 72 minutes. After a brief period of the dawn rush of air, we spend the last hour listening in on the comings-and-goings and daily lives of Thirtymile Meadows. Throughout it all, the soft occasional tinkling of water flows around and beneath.
Unfortunately, one of my microphones failed overnight, and I ended up with a lopsided recording. I've accounted for this somewhat in the the master, but it's an imperfect image that I'm hoping to replace this summer when I return.
This recording can also be enjoyed at Northwest Soundscapes, here: http://soundeziner.com/2020/05/thirtymile-dawn/
A year ago this time I was listening to and watching dawn (still twilight, ~5:15, but active already) from one of my favorite locations in the Sinlahekin Wildlife Area with my good friend Jason Wolford. It was the first time I'd introduced another recordist to one of my favorite places, and it did not disappoint.
The temperature was chilly, barely above freezing, but the birds were abundant. Ruffed Grouse, Dusky Grouse, Wild Turkeys, Red-Winged Blackbirds, Canada Geese, Tundra Swan, American Robins, Wilsen's Snipe, Ravens AND Crows, Red-Shafter Flickers, Western Meadowlarks, Song Sparrows, a bunch of duck-like birds, and many other birds I just haven't bothered to identify because this is already a lot.
There are some nearby ranging cattle, and the resident wildlife manager's dog barks a few times, mostly at the turkeys.
Twilight, Dawn, and Sunrise in the Olympic National Forest, on Rugged Ridge near Sitkum and Calawah Rivers. Species include: Western Screech Owl, Varied Thursh, Pacific Wren, American Robin
Starting during Nautical Twilight on March 30, 2019, we're first greeted by distant Western Screech Owls. The forest is soft. It rained last night and the moss-covered trees are still dripping in in the early light. The distant Calawah and Sitkum Rivers are awash in the background. The First Varied Thrush arrives almost six minutes in and is quickly followed by awakening Pacific Wrens and American Robins. By the time Civic Twilight begins at 06:28 (18mins) we have a nice chorus of local life. Everyone is saying hello, good morning, how do you do? Sunrise arrives at 06:59 (49mins), and almost immediately we're greeted by a Robin that swoops in to hang out and chatter for a while. Welcome, he says, to my home on the Olympic Peninsula.
I'm not entirely sure what I feel about this one. One the one hand, everything sounds so oddly distant. On the other, I remember seeing the seaweed dances with the surge as the water flowed through. I'll let you decide what you think.
That last bit of compression just before the water hits the underhand is so satisfying, especially with the blurp-y splash right after
This is the archetypical coastal glugging hollow to me. Drained of water, you can hear the approaching surge through the hollow rocks. When it fills up, though, it's like a giant sloshing can. Only when the water drains does it sound like the open channel it really is.
This hollow gets deep. When the water was drained I could walk on the wet sand. After the surge, though, the fill limit was 2-3 feet.
Another angle on the same surging chamber as before. I tried to focus a little more on the sloshing, but it's difficult to get a good aim when dangling mics from above.
This nice, long chamber was further up the beach from the previous chambers. As such, it had a nice long surge and drain without ever staying full.
I love that anticipatory sound of water rushing between the rocks as it approaches. The "peek-a-boo" nature of the final water eruption just tickles my funny-bone.
Like The Tunnel, this hollow was further up the beach from the rest. The difference here is that the actual fill chamber was deep inside the rock and I was only ever able to record through a crevice that looked into it. Rather than hearing the water slosh up and around in a wide stereo field, we instead mostly hear the reverberant surges and splashes. It has a nice giant "chamber" feel without any direct slosh.
I spent the night of July 14, 2019, camped near Thirtymile Meadows in the Okanogan National Forest at 6400 ft (1950 m). The area is known as the Okanogan High Country, and for a good reason. Tall, sharp mountains standing on an already high, mostly dry plateau make it a unique place in the Pacific Northwest.
The shallow-bowl shaped meadows made for a beautiful natural amphitheater for recording. Quiet little burble and occasional ripple sound from the boggy ground beneath. With a shockingly low noise floor for an open-air recording space and reverberation that seemed to go on forever (RT60 of over 5.5 seconds), it was just a stage waiting for a performer. Luckily one came along.
A lone coyote entered the meadow from the distant right and vocalized for nearly 50 minutes before trailing away. For those unaware, coyotes are extremely vocal animals. They're not the quiet loners wolves can be. They often bark, yip, howl, and more for long periods as they make their rounds of their territory. When it's just you and the coyote, though, it's hard not to feel that she's making the racket as a special performance just for you.
It's quiet moments like these that I find so rewarding as a recordist.
This track is unmastered, just decoded to a stereo image.
For the technically nosy: Microphones: Double Mid-Side of MKH8040/MKH30/MKH8040 Stereo Matrix: Harpex-X Recorder: MixPre 6
I was asked recently to provide a few select examples of elk bugling and realized I've never made an attempt to master or isolate some of my favorites. I've included them here.
I was asked recently to provide a few select examples of elk bugling and realized I've never made an attempt to master or isolate some of my favorites. I've included them here.
I was asked recently to provide a few select examples of elk bugling and realized I've never made an attempt to master or isolate some of my favorites. I've included them here.
I was asked recently to provide a few select examples of elk bugling and realized I've never made an attempt to master or isolate some of my favorites. I've included them here.
I was asked recently to provide a few select examples of elk bugling and realized I've never made an attempt to master or isolate some of my favorites. I've included them here.
I was asked recently to provide a few select examples of elk bugling and realized I've never made an attempt to master or isolate some of my favorites. I've included them here.
I was asked recently to provide a few select examples of elk bugling and realized I've never made an attempt to master or isolate some of my favorites. I've included them here.
I was asked recently to provide a few select examples of elk bugling and realized I've never made an attempt to master or isolate some of my favorites. I've included them here. This was a particularly day, with strong mountain winds sweeping down through tall pine stands. Several small break-off herds were moving through and with males calling back-and-forth and females trying to figure out which one to follow
This clip: Moving off into the distance, our coyote performer has turned to leave the meadow.
Playlist description: I spent the night of July 14, 2019, camped near Thirtymile Meadows in the Okanogan National Forest at 6400 ft (1950 m). The area is known as the Okanogan High Country, and for a good reason. Tall, sharp mountains standing on an already high, mostly dry plateau make it a unique place in the Pacific Northwest. The shallow-bowl shaped meadows made for a beautiful natural amphitheater for recording. With a shockingly low noise floor for an open-air recording space and reverberation that seemed to go on forever (RT60 of over 5.5 seconds), it was just a stage waiting for a performer. Luckily one came along. A lone coyote entered the meadow from the distant right and vocalized for nearly 50 minutes before trailing away. For those that don't know, Coyotes are extremely vocal animals. They're not the quiet loners wolves can be. They often bark, yip, howl, and more for long periods as they make their rounds of their territory. When it's just you and the coyote, though, it's hard not to feel that she's making the racket as a special performance just for you. It's special moments like these that I find so rewarding as a recordist.
These clips are excerpts from the 50+ minute original recording. All are unmastered with no gain, just decoded to a stereo image.
For the technically nosy: Microphones: Double Mid-Side of MKH8040/MKH30/MKH8040 Stereo Matrix: Harpex-X Recorder: MixPre 6
This clip: Listen to the echoes and reverberation change depending on which direction they face. It just paints a wonderful picture of the meadow's acoustic bowl.
Playlist description: I spent the night of July 14, 2019, camped near Thirtymile Meadows in the Okanogan National Forest at 6400 ft (1950 m). The area is known as the Okanogan High Country, and for a good reason. Tall, sharp mountains standing on an already high, mostly dry plateau make it a unique place in the Pacific Northwest. The shallow-bowl shaped meadows made for a beautiful natural amphitheater for recording. With a shockingly low noise floor for an open-air recording space and reverberation that seemed to go on forever (RT60 of over 5.5 seconds), it was just a stage waiting for a performer. Luckily one came along. A lone coyote entered the meadow from the distant right and vocalized for nearly 50 minutes before trailing away. For those that don't know, Coyotes are extremely vocal animals. They're not the quiet loners wolves can be. They often bark, yip, howl, and more for long periods as they make their rounds of their territory. When it's just you and the coyote, though, it's hard not to feel that she's making the racket as a special performance just for you. It's special moments like these that I find so rewarding as a recordist.
These clips are excerpts from the 50+ minute original recording. All are unmastered with no gain, just decoded to a stereo image.
For the technically nosy: Microphones: Double Mid-Side of MKH8040/MKH30/MKH8040 Stereo Matrix: Harpex-X Recorder: MixPre 6
This clip: Our coyote performer works across the meadow, keeping a distance but moving around.
Playlist description: I spent the night of July 14, 2019, camped near Thirtymile Meadows in the Okanogan National Forest at 6400 ft (1950 m). The area is known as the Okanogan High Country, and for a good reason. Tall, sharp mountains standing on an already high, mostly dry plateau make it a unique place in the Pacific Northwest. The shallow-bowl shaped meadows made for a beautiful natural amphitheater for recording. With a shockingly low noise floor for an open-air recording space and reverberation that seemed to go on forever (RT60 of over 5.5 seconds), it was just a stage waiting for a performer. Luckily one came along. A lone coyote entered the meadow from the distant right and vocalized for nearly 50 minutes before trailing away. For those that don't know, Coyotes are extremely vocal animals. They're not the quiet loners wolves can be. They often bark, yip, howl, and more for long periods as they make their rounds of their territory. When it's just you and the coyote, though, it's hard not to feel that she's making the racket as a special performance just for you. It's special moments like these that I find so rewarding as a recordist.
These clips are excerpts from the 50+ minute original recording. All are unmastered with no gain, just decoded to a stereo image.
For the technically nosy: Microphones: Double Mid-Side of MKH8040/MKH30/MKH8040 Stereo Matrix: Harpex-X Recorder: MixPre 6
This clip: From silence to performance, a lone coyote enters the meadow.
Playlist description: I spent the night of July 14, 2019, camped near Thirtymile Meadows in the Okanogan National Forest at 6400 ft (1950 m). The area is known as the Okanogan High Country, and for a good reason. Tall, sharp mountains standing on an already high, mostly dry plateau make it a unique place in the Pacific Northwest. The shallow-bowl shaped meadows made for a beautiful natural amphitheater for recording. With a shockingly low noise floor for an open-air recording space and reverberation that seemed to go on forever (RT60 of over 5.5 seconds), it was just a stage waiting for a performer. Luckily one came along. A lone coyote entered the meadow from the distant right and vocalized for nearly 50 minutes before trailing away. For those that don't know, Coyotes are extremely vocal animals. They're not the quiet loners wolves can be. They often bark, yip, howl, and more for long periods as they make their rounds of their territory. When it's just you and the coyote, though, it's hard not to feel that she's making the racket as a special performance just for you. It's special moments like these that I find so rewarding as a recordist.
These clips are excerpts from the 50+ minute original recording. All are unmastered with no gain, just decoded to a stereo image.
For the technically nosy: Microphones: Double Mid-Side of MKH8040/MKH30/MKH8040 Stereo Matrix: Harpex-X Recorder: MixPre 6
This clip: This is about as close as the coyote got, or at least the most direct facing to the microphones. The raw track doesn't clip, but those yips are just loud enough that the summing matrix clipped just a hair. This is the only clip in the collection with any adjustments -- I brought the track down by 1 dB before the matrix so I could present it with no clipping.
Playlist description: I spent the night of July 14, 2019, camped near Thirtymile Meadows in the Okanogan National Forest at 6400 ft (1950 m). The area is known as the Okanogan High Country, and for a good reason. Tall, sharp mountains standing on an already high, mostly dry plateau make it a unique place in the Pacific Northwest. The shallow-bowl shaped meadows made for a beautiful natural amphitheater for recording. With a shockingly low noise floor for an open-air recording space and reverberation that seemed to go on forever (RT60 of over 5.5 seconds), it was just a stage waiting for a performer. Luckily one came along. A lone coyote entered the meadow from the distant right and vocalized for nearly 50 minutes before trailing away. For those that don't know, Coyotes are extremely vocal animals. They're not the quiet loners wolves can be. They often bark, yip, howl, and more for long periods as they make their rounds of their territory. When it's just you and the coyote, though, it's hard not to feel that she's making the racket as a special performance just for you. It's special moments like these that I find so rewarding as a recordist.
These clips are excerpts from the 50+ minute original recording. All are unmastered with no gain, just decoded to a stereo image.
For the technically nosy: Microphones: Double Mid-Side of MKH8040/MKH30/MKH8040 Stereo Matrix: Harpex-X Recorder: MixPre 6
This clip: That ululation vocalization is one of my favorite sounds of the wild.
Playlist description: I spent the night of July 14, 2019, camped near Thirtymile Meadows in the Okanogan National Forest at 6400 ft (1950 m). The area is known as the Okanogan High Country, and for a good reason. Tall, sharp mountains standing on an already high, mostly dry plateau make it a unique place in the Pacific Northwest. The shallow-bowl shaped meadows made for a beautiful natural amphitheater for recording. With a shockingly low noise floor for an open-air recording space and reverberation that seemed to go on forever (RT60 of over 5.5 seconds), it was just a stage waiting for a performer. Luckily one came along. A lone coyote entered the meadow from the distant right and vocalized for nearly 50 minutes before trailing away. For those that don't know, Coyotes are extremely vocal animals. They're not the quiet loners wolves can be. They often bark, yip, howl, and more for long periods as they make their rounds of their territory. When it's just you and the coyote, though, it's hard not to feel that she's making the racket as a special performance just for you. It's special moments like these that I find so rewarding as a recordist.
These clips are excerpts from the 50+ minute original recording. All are unmastered with no gain, just decoded to a stereo image.
For the technically nosy: Microphones: Double Mid-Side of MKH8040/MKH30/MKH8040 Stereo Matrix: Harpex-X Recorder: MixPre 6
This clip: With an RT60 of 5.5 seconds, it's a beautiful trail off into the silence of the midnight meadow.
Playlist description: I spent the night of July 14, 2019, camped near Thirtymile Meadows in the Okanogan National Forest at 6400 ft (1950 m). The area is known as the Okanogan High Country, and for a good reason. Tall, sharp mountains standing on an already high, mostly dry plateau make it a unique place in the Pacific Northwest. The shallow-bowl shaped meadows made for a beautiful natural amphitheater for recording. With a shockingly low noise floor for an open-air recording space and reverberation that seemed to go on forever (RT60 of over 5.5 seconds), it was just a stage waiting for a performer. Luckily one came along. A lone coyote entered the meadow from the distant right and vocalized for nearly 50 minutes before trailing away. For those that don't know, Coyotes are extremely vocal animals. They're not the quiet loners wolves can be. They often bark, yip, howl, and more for long periods as they make their rounds of their territory. When it's just you and the coyote, though, it's hard not to feel that she's making the racket as a special performance just for you. It's special moments like these that I find so rewarding as a recordist.
These clips are excerpts from the 50+ minute original recording. All are unmastered with no gain, just decoded to a stereo image.
For the technically nosy: Microphones: Double Mid-Side of MKH8040/MKH30/MKH8040 Stereo Matrix: Harpex-X Recorder: MixPre 6
This clip: After trotting along in silence for more than 7 minutes, the coyote decides to give one last send-off before disappearing back into the mountains above the meadows.
Playlist description: I spent the night of July 14, 2019, camped near Thirtymile Meadows in the Okanogan National Forest at 6400 ft (1950 m). The area is known as the Okanogan High Country, and for a good reason. Tall, sharp mountains standing on an already high, mostly dry plateau make it a unique place in the Pacific Northwest. The shallow-bowl shaped meadows made for a beautiful natural amphitheater for recording. With a shockingly low noise floor for an open-air recording space and reverberation that seemed to go on forever (RT60 of over 5.5 seconds), it was just a stage waiting for a performer. Luckily one came along. A lone coyote entered the meadow from the distant right and vocalized for nearly 50 minutes before trailing away. For those that don't know, Coyotes are extremely vocal animals. They're not the quiet loners wolves can be. They often bark, yip, howl, and more for long periods as they make their rounds of their territory. When it's just you and the coyote, though, it's hard not to feel that she's making the racket as a special performance just for you. It's special moments like these that I find so rewarding as a recordist.
These clips are excerpts from the 50+ minute original recording. All are unmastered with no gain, just decoded to a stereo image.
For the technically nosy: Microphones: Double Mid-Side of MKH8040/MKH30/MKH8040 Stereo Matrix: Harpex-X Recorder: MixPre 6
This small small pod of chorus frogs from the Ozette area of the Olympic National Park occupied the edges of a tiny transient pond no more than 10 feet/ 3 meters across. I can't imagine there are more than a dozen individuals present, not all of them vocalizing. Their sporadic choruses would last no more than a minute at intervals of 10 minutes to an hour apart! Whenever I hear small pods like this I wonder why the chorus is so short. Is it because they've said all they need to say given the small group? Are tiny populations more sensitive to potential threats and predators, making them more likely to hush at the faintest sound? It also leads me to wonder if this is really what's happening inside of the giant walls of chorusing, such as https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner/chorus-frogs-02-full-chorus .Are these massive populations of thousands or millions of frogs really just collections of smaller pods chorusing sporadically every so often? or do individuals in the big chorus carry on for much longer just to stand out from the crowd?
Coming out right around sunset, the first members of a pod tentatively cree-eek and ribbit their way until more come up from their overnight burrows to join. Pacific Chorus Frogs, despite their oft confusing alternate name Pacific Treefrog, lives in burrows and grasses in marshy wetlands. While some frogs may make their way into shrubs while hunting food, they are primarily ground and shallow-water dwellers.
I love Pacific Chorus Frogs. Whether you know it as Pseudacris regilla (Pacific Chorus Frog) or Hyla regilla (Pacific Treefrog), its voice is instantly recognizable. Being so common along the West Coast, regilla, was the easiest source available for sound recordists to use in film and television. Along with the American Bullfrog, it quickly became the dominant sound of "frog" in film.
This little 1-inch frog makes its voice known. Coming out right around sunset, the first members of a pod tentatively cree-eek and ribbit their way until more come up from their overnight burrows to join. Soon, very soon, a full chorus begins and they roar to life as a deafening wall of amphibia for hours until the nighttime air cools below their comfort zone. As they slowly make their way back into their burrows, waves of chorusing come and go, finally petering out in the voices of just a few individuals just before dawn.
Recorded in over the night of April 21-22, 2019, in Sinlahekin Valley, a single pod chorus of frogs comes alive in this quiet land nearly devoid of human sound. I'd play the full recording for you, but that would be 10 hours long. Instead I'll present some of the highlights along the way.
For the technically nosy: Microphones: yes recorder: indeed
regilla are most familiar by the male "advertisement" call used to attract females, a distinct "Kree-eeck" or ribbit. It is their encounter call between two or more aggressive males that can be so delightful. A longer, single-syllable "reeeeeeeeeeek" or "creeeeeeeeeek" utterance that seems to vary strongly from individual to individual, this call is used to say, "Hey, buddy, give me some room."
I love Pacific Chorus Frogs. Whether you know it as Pseudacris regilla (Pacific Chorus Frog) or Hyla regilla (Pacific Treefrog), its voice is instantly recognizable. Being so common along the West Coast, regilla, was the easiest source available for sound recordists to use in film and television. Along with the American Bullfrog, it quickly became the dominant sound of "frog" in film.
This little 1-inch frog makes its voice known. Coming out right around sunset, the first members of a pod tentatively cree-eek and ribbit their way until more come up from their overnight burrows to join. Soon, very soon, a full chorus begins and they roar to life as a deafening wall of amphibia for hours until the nighttime air cools below their comfort zone. As they slowly make their way back into their burrows, waves of chorusing come and go, finally petering out in the voices of just a few individuals just before dawn.
Recorded in over the night of April 21-22, 2019, in Sinlahekin Valley, a single pod chorus of frogs comes alive in this quiet land nearly devoid of human sound. I'd play the full recording for you, but that would be 10 hours long. Instead I'll present some of the highlights along the way.
For the technically nosy: Microphones: yes recorder: indeed
Daily (or nightly, as it were) life for regilla is dependent upon light, temperature, and energy. As the late night wanes, the pod loses steam. Temperature torpor sets in, individuals leave to hunt, and, well, probably get froggy-bored. The full chorus breaks first into successive waves that circle the pond and later into long-but-staccato sections that show signs of tapering away.
I love Pacific Chorus Frogs. Whether you know it as Pseudacris regilla (Pacific Chorus Frog) or Hyla regilla (Pacific Treefrog), its voice is instantly recognizable. Being so common along the West Coast, regilla, was the easiest source available for sound recordists to use in film and television. Along with the American Bullfrog, it quickly became the dominant sound of "frog" in film.
This little 1-inch frog makes its voice known. Coming out right around sunset, the first members of a pod tentatively cree-eek and ribbit their way until more come up from their overnight burrows to join. Soon, very soon, a full chorus begins and they roar to life as a deafening wall of amphibia for hours until the nighttime air cools below their comfort zone. As they slowly make their way back into their burrows, waves of chorusing come and go, finally petering out in the voices of just a few individuals just before dawn.
Recorded in over the night of April 21-22, 2019, in Sinlahekin Valley, a single pod chorus of frogs comes alive in this quiet land nearly devoid of human sound. I'd play the full recording for you, but that would be 10 hours long. Instead I'll present some of the highlights along the way.
For the technically nosy: Microphones: yes recorder: indeed
Finally the night begins to close as the first rays of light appear in the twilight sky. Most of the pod members have gone back to burrow and sleep, but a few individuals continue to try their hardest to attract a mate. Somewhere out there is the regilla for them.
I love Pacific Chorus Frogs. Whether you know it as Pseudacris regilla (Pacific Chorus Frog) or Hyla regilla (Pacific Treefrog), its voice is instantly recognizable. Being so common along the West Coast, regilla, was the easiest source available for sound recordists to use in film and television. Along with the American Bullfrog, it quickly became the dominant sound of "frog" in film.
This little 1-inch frog makes its voice known. Coming out right around sunset, the first members of a pod tentatively cree-eek and ribbit their way until more come up from their overnight burrows to join. Soon, very soon, a full chorus begins and they roar to life as a deafening wall of amphibia for hours until the nighttime air cools below their comfort zone. As they slowly make their way back into their burrows, waves of chorusing come and go, finally petering out in the voices of just a few individuals just before dawn.
Recorded in over the night of April 21-22, 2019, in Sinlahekin Valley, a single pod chorus of frogs comes alive in this quiet land nearly devoid of human sound. I'd play the full recording for you, but that would be 10 hours long. Instead I'll present some of the highlights along the way.
For the technically nosy: Microphones: yes recorder: indeed
This one may only be of general interest to my fellow North American field recordists. There's a bird we hear allthetime yet, when early in our careers we often confuse it with a "distant generator thumping". Yes. The Ruffed Grouse. Also called the "Fool's Hen" for it's propensity for not running quickly away when approached, leading one to feel like you can catch it if you're quick enough. Inevitably it darts off just before caught. During mating season, the male Ruffed Grouse declares its territory and availability by finding a log to sit on. On a period of every five to twelve minutes it rapidly fluffs its feathers and pounds the log to produce a low rapid thump that can carry for quite some distance.
It continues to do this for five to to twelve hours at a time if undisturbed. Making the only later evidence of its presence just a collection of drying fecal drops on the Chosen Log.
In most recordings it rarely rises above 100 Hz. When just 50 feet (15 meters) away, it still feels more like a thumping pressure than a sound you think you actually hear.
I was recently out recording for a few days when I heard the tell-tale thump. Later, on a walk around the campsite, I heard a disturbed rustle and just glimpsed a Ruffed Grouse hopping off its log. Confirming it with the tell-tale poop drops I though, "Here's my chance to show its more than just an amusing generator stand-in".
I snuck a pair of small omni microphones in around 1900, placing one about two feet above the poop and one off to the side, just in case it moved around. I hit record on my hidden recorder and wandered off to bed. I heard thumping throughout the night, so I was certain I got something. I wasn't quite prepared for a ten-hour performance, though.
The following two clips are from somewhere around 4am. Unfiltered, unmastered, no leveling. The first clip is merely edited from the second so you don't get bored just... waiting... for... the... next... drumming.
Channel one/ Left is the "side" omni, which also got a lot of the roominess of the log itself. Channel two/ Right was right on target and just a few inches above the bird's head.
For more info on Ruffed Grouse and other recordings, photos, and VIDEO, check out the Cornell Library's entry here: https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Ruffed_Grouse/
For the technically-curious, gear used: microphones and recorder. If you're really, truly interested, feel free to message me directly.
This one may only be of general interest to my fellow North American field recordists. There's a bird we hear allthetime yet, when early in our careers we often confuse it with a "distant generator thumping". Yes. The Ruffed Grouse. Also called the "Fool's Hen" for it's propensity for not running quickly away when approached, leading one to feel like you can catch it if you're quick enough. Inevitably it darts off just before caught. During mating season, the male Ruffed Grouse declares its territory and availability by finding a log to sit on. On a period of every five to twelve minutes it rapidly fluffs its feathers and pounds the log to produce a low rapid thump that can carry for quite some distance.
It continues to do this for five to to twelve hours at a time if undisturbed. Making the only later evidence of its presence just a collection of drying fecal drops on the Chosen Log.
In most recordings it rarely rises above 100 Hz. When just 50 feet (15 meters) away, it still feels more like a thumping pressure than a sound you think you actually hear.
I was recently out recording for a few days when I heard the tell-tale thump. Later, on a walk around the campsite, I heard a disturbed rustle and just glimpsed a Ruffed Grouse hopping off its log. Confirming it with the tell-tale poop drops I though, "Here's my chance to show its more than just an amusing generator stand-in".
I snuck a pair of small omni microphones in around 1900, placing one about two feet above the poop and one off to the side, just in case it moved around. I hit record on my hidden recorder and wandered off to bed. I heard thumping throughout the night, so I was certain I got something. I wasn't quite prepared for a ten-hour performance, though.
The following two clips are from somewhere around 4am. Unfiltered, unmastered, no leveling. The first clip is merely edited from the second so you don't get bored just... waiting... for... the... next... drumming.
Channel one/ Left is the "side" omni, which also got a lot of the roominess of the log itself. Channel two/ Right was right on target and just a few inches above the bird's head.
For more info on Ruffed Grouse and other recordings, photos, and VIDEO, check out the Cornell Library's entry here: https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Ruffed_Grouse/
For the technically-curious, gear used: microphones and recorder. If you're really, truly interested, feel free to message me directly.
I had the pleasure of joining nine other sound artists and field recordists (seven participants plus the three workshop leaders)at Sonic Mmabolela 2018, the 6th Annual Workshop/Residency for sound artists & composers at Mmabolela Reserve, Limpopo, South Africa.
It was two weeks of intense listening, recording, discussion, creation, hiking, and wine drinking. It was also two of the most memorable weeks of my life, two weeks I'll take with me forever.
I wish I could share it all with you, but I can't, so I'll give you a taste. Here I present 139.5 hours' worth of recording distilled down to a more manageable 25:53.
This is a quick jaunt through through the two weeks, in chronological order. There are dawns, dusks, midnights, and a couple middays presented as they came to me. With the exception of one particularly rainy day at the homestead, everything was recorded far from human interference.
I've made no effort at processing of any kind, just pulling down the levels of a couple particularly loud clips.
Learn more about Sonic Mmabolela here: http://www.franciscolopez.net/field.html
single prop, piston-driven, STOL bush plane https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/De_Havilland_Canada_DHC-2_Beaver
I feel fortunate to have been able to record over an hour of unbroken natural sound in the Olympic National Forest at the Snider-Jackson trail head. Starting during Civil Twilight, sun rises in this recording around the 30 minute mark, although the Thrushes were awake and active long before then. Robins, Varied Thrushes, Flycatchers, woodpeckers, squirrels, Pacific Wrens, and more fill these moss-covered woods to the background wash of the Calawah River.
Sunrise was at 5:42 this morning, with the first almost-audible human-related sounds of very distant vehicles starting nearly an hour after that.
It's difficult to comprehend the sound of the wilderness we are losing. Even here, deep in the mountainous, moss-covered trees of the Olympic National Forest on the border of the Olympic National Park, it's only by creeping out in the early hours of the morning that we can hear long stretches of natural sound unbroken by human-created noises. With the ever-encroaching settlements of humankind, how much longer will it be before even that is lost?
A days' worth of round-trips on the Seattle-Bainbridge Island Ferry, nearly all short fore-and-aft from then passenger and car decks.
A days' worth of round-trips on the Seattle-Bainbridge Island Ferry, nearly all short fore-and-aft from then passenger and car decks.
A days' worth of round-trips on the Seattle-Bainbridge Island Ferry, nearly all short fore-and-aft from then passenger and car decks.
A days' worth of round-trips on the Seattle-Bainbridge Island Ferry, nearly all short fore-and-aft from then passenger and car decks.
A days' worth of round-trips on the Seattle-Bainbridge Island Ferry, nearly all short fore-and-aft from then passenger and car decks.
A days' worth of round-trips on the Seattle-Bainbridge Island Ferry, nearly all short fore-and-aft from then passenger and car decks.
A days' worth of round-trips on the Seattle-Bainbridge Island Ferry, nearly all short fore-and-aft from then passenger and car decks.
A days' worth of round-trips on the Seattle-Bainbridge Island Ferry, nearly all short fore-and-aft from then passenger and car decks.
A days' worth of round-trips on the Seattle-Bainbridge Island Ferry, nearly all short fore-and-aft from then passenger and car decks.
A days' worth of round-trips on the Seattle-Bainbridge Island Ferry, nearly all short fore-and-aft from then passenger and car decks.
This track isn't really from within a coastal hollow. This is the underside of a large boulder being repeatedly smacked by a shallow tide.
I sat on top of a big boulder and lowered my mics in for this track. What you don't hear is me slowly groaning and huffing-and-puffing as I realize that it wasn't a good idea. You know, leverage, balance, and all...
I should have taken more pictures to describe the action. Live and learn.
Here the mics free standing, barely, between two large boulders. The tide was coming in but wasn't quite up there. Most of the splashing here is from a shallow inlet filled with kelp.
This is the stuff I really love. The water comes in, fills a little hollow area about 4 feet deep and two feet wide. The it drains out with a shlorky-wet "glurg-g-g-g-g".
To say that the 6 year old in me is pleased with it sounding like a giant wet fart is an understatement.
The tide was coming in. There was a slight storm surge from an off-shore event. Positioned at the end of a long narrow breach between two rocks, we can hear the water surging its way between with every wave, only to just kind of "sport" at the very end before draining away.
We're not really in a hollow here. The storm surge is battering a really odd-shaped set of rocks and I'm trying desperately not to fall in.
On the backside of the weird rocks this time. The surge pours over the rocks and slowly trickles away.
Over the weekend of 2018 May 11-13 I spent some time camping in and briefly hiking the beginning section of the Snider Jackson/ Rugged Ridge trail. BEFORE that, however, we'd driven all night and were exhausted just before dawn having not quite made it to the trailhead. After a beautiful dawn chorus, we pitched tents and set out to record the morning. Exhausted, I fell asleep while recording. When I awoke hours later and skipped through the recording before backing up, I'd found that around 1h 35m a Pacific Wren decided to give me a lovely song in the trees above my mic. After 20 minutes of a beautiful serenade, it flew down closer and nearly blew out my inputs! Unmastered, this recording peaks just under 0db. (for the non-audio folk out there, that means that just a hair louder and the wren would have distorted). Also appearing in this recording: Golden-crowned Kinglets, a Pacific-slope Flycatcher, and an insistent-if-distant woodpecker of some sort.
Sometimes -- nearly always -- I lose myself while recording. Listening to the sounds of songbirds, fowl, wind in trees, squirrels, chipmunks... I feel like I'm alone at nature's whim. I'm just a small, pink dot on her back, along for the ride. It's a beautiful feeling, one that I seek out whenever I can. That feeling is instantly lost humanity intrudes back. Sometimes humanity intrudes hard, like in this recording in the form of target shooters. Everyone has their way of enjoying the great outdoors, of escaping the hustle of daily life. For some, it means taking firearms out into the canyons and forests, shooting a bunch of paper targets shaped like humans, and littering the ground with spent plastic and brass cartridges, spoiling the very nature and soundscape I wish to embrace. I'm not overly fond of those folks.
Afternoon in Colville National Forest, Calispell Meadow is filled with crickets and grasshoppers.
Little Pend Oreille National Wildlife Refuge, Bayley's Lake has more life. The young eagles' parents circle about the canyon, considering feeding.
Dawn in Little Pend Oreille National Wildlife Refuge, Bayley's Lake is waking. A young eagle calls hungrily for feeding. Ducks disturb the calm air.
Dawn in Little Pend Oreille National Wildlife Refuge. Bats are still out, at the end of their nightly feast. Pygmy Owls' hoots echo across the still waters of Bayley's Lake.
Dusk in Little Pend Oreille National Wildlife Refuge, voices mostly inaudible to humans, thousands of bats fly around the still water at night. Their wings are the only disturbance in the air.
Dusk in Little Pend Oreille National Wildlife Refuge. Bayley's Lake is calm, flat, and sheltered by tall canyon walls.
Dawn in Okanagon National Forest. As I lay in my tent, a woodpecker dances from snag to snag looking for food.
Towards morning twilight the Nightjars return. They circle above calling "peent... peent... peent". Occasionally the pull their wings tight and dive, letting out a loud "boom" that sounds like a distant roar as they straighten out. Crickets sing throughout.
Yesterday Jack Menhorn and I made an important discovery: squeaker toys are uncontrollably funny when fired out of a high-powered slingshot.
Yesterday Jack Menhorn and I made an important discovery: squeaker toys are uncontrollably funny when fired out of a high-powered slingshot.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
Two hydrophones, a JRF D-Series on the left, Aquarian H2a on the right. Using an implement (a random metal pole) to disturb the shattered, thin-frozen-surface (maybe 1/8th ") of a small lake harbor. We tried to gently push the remaining ice shelves around and scrape them with a metal pole. unmastered... just quickly sliced up and normalized.
Two hydrophones, a JRF D-Series on the left, Aquarian H2a on the right. Medium (less than hand-sized) rocks were lobbed into the thin-frozen-surface (maybe 1/8th ") of a small lake harbor from a height of ten feet. They crash through, splash, and slosh the ice fragments around. unmastered... just quickly sliced up and normalized.
Two hydrophones, a JRF D-Series on the left, Aquarian H2a on the right. Swirling an implement (a random stick) to disturb the shattered, thin-frozen-surface (maybe 1/8th ") of a small lake harbor. The swirl causes a small disturbance that, splashes and sloshes the ice fragments around. They take a long time to settle.... unmastered... just quickly sliced up and normalized.
Two hydrophones, a JRF D-Series on the left, Aquarian H2a on the right. Small rocks and pebbles were lobbed and skipped onto the thin-frozen-surface (maybe 1/8th ") of a small lake harbor from a height of ten feet. unmastered... just quickly sliced up and normalized.
Normally a nature recordist spends time camping alone, away from the throngs of humanity that fill the soundscape with anthropogenic sound. For the 2017 eclipse, though, I joined my family and the estimated 100,00+ human that invaded the small town of Madras, OR, for the great eclipse of August 21, 2017. I wanted to know what the human animals' reaction would be.
Being a first-timer myself, I had no idea what to expect. It's true what they say: the moment of totality is truly breathtaking (although the reactions of the onlookers in this recording seem to have plenty of breath for screaming!). With even 1% of the Sun visible, the difference is staggering.
In our location, Mt Jefferson loomed in the distance until the Moon's umbra descended upon it. The shadow initially blacked the mountain's peak out at 10:26:55 AM (01:52 in the recording) As it raced down the side, however, and the sun came back out in the distance, the mountain took on a glow like a fiery peak ready to blow. Distant cheers of excitement followed the shadow at it approached, like a tsunami of emotion.
Totality came at 10:27:17 AM (2:14). When the last glint of sunlight blinked out and the corona became visible the crowd erupted in joyous ululation. Cheers, hoots, cries of wonderment... it was all there. I was dumbfounded, myself, never having been the cheering kind. But here I was unable to say much at all beyond the occasional "wow". Truly, my most Shakespearean moment.
At 10:29:02 AM (3:59) a distant firework went off, signaling the advancing tail of the Umbra. At 10:29:28 (4:25) it was over in an instant, with the sSun's light bursting back and flooding away the Moon. The crowd applauded and cheered for the Moon.
10:26:55 / 01:52 -- Mt. Jefferson disappears 10:27:17 / 02:14 -- totality 10:29:28 / 04:25 -- Sun's back
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), normalized to -23 LUFS and down-sampled to 48k with no other filtering. Geophony: The Colockum is a high plateau on the eastern side of the Casade Mountain range between Wenatchee and Ellensburg, WA. With steep drainage-carved ravines, dry grass, rolling hills, and scarce water, it is a difficult, rough terrain. Abundant Ponderosa Pine, Spruce, and some Firs provide variably-dense stands for the elk's bugling to echo from. A mighty wind storm had blown through during the night, with some occasional gusting still noticeable in the trees. Anthrophony: None in these recordings Biphony: Elk, mostly bulls bugling, screaming, roaring, whistling, and chirping. Occasional high-pitched mews from the cows can be heard. Some morning birds are present also, including jays, ravens, chickadees, and a woodpecker. There may be a squirrel present.
On the morning of 21 April, 2017, I set up my microphones and recorder for a nice dawn recording in the East Cascades. It was early, and I started to fall asleep while recording. Instead of lulling off into dreamland, I was started awake by a screaming Douglas Pine Squirrel. It spent a good while telling me everything that was on its mind.
I'm pretty certain it was a Douglas Pine Squirrel. I didn't get the best look at it, but it has the sound. "Interview with the Douglas Pine Squirrel" doesn't sound quite as nice as "interview with the chipmunk"
I spent a night in a bed of moss, listening to the sounds of Springtime Alaskan boreal taiga in the twilight. Nearby swam a pair of loons. A beaver circled, territorially slapping the water with its tail. I smiled and listened.
Location: Long Lake, Talkeetna, AK
Weather: variable over the course of the night, 49-61°F, light to no wind, humidity rose from 31-52%
Geophony: Clear lake in a hilly boreal taiga, dominated by White Spruce, Bird, and thick beds of diverse mosses
Anthrophony: myself @90 feet, distant ambient generators (most of which I’ve edited out)
Biophony: Common Loon (Gavia Immer), Swainson’s Thrush (Catharus Ustulatus), American Robin (Turdus migratorius), other birds I don’t recognize, Beaver, insects (mostly white flies & mosquitos), river otter (visible, but silent)
For the gear curious: stereo downmix from double mid-side mid channels: MKH8040x2 side channel: MKH30 recorder: Zaxcom MAXX
I spent a night in a bed of moss, listening to the sounds of Springtime Alaskan boreal taiga in the twilight. Nearby swam a pair of loons. A beaver circled, territorially slapping the water with its tail. I smiled and listened.
Location: Long Lake, Talkeetna, AK
Weather: variable over the course of the night, 49-61°F, light to no wind, humidity rose from 31-52%
Geophony: Clear lake in a hilly boreal taiga, dominated by White Spruce, Bird, and thick beds of diverse mosses
Anthrophony: myself @90 feet, distant ambient generators (most of which I’ve edited out)
Biophony: Common Loon (Gavia Immer), Swainson’s Thrush (Catharus Ustulatus), American Robin (Turdus migratorius), other birds I don’t recognize, Beaver, insects (mostly white flies & mosquitos), river otter (visible, but silent)
For the gear curious: stereo downmix from double mid-side mid channels: MKH8040x2 side channel: MKH30 recorder: Zaxcom MAXX
I spent a night in a bed of moss, listening to the sounds of Springtime Alaskan boreal taiga in the twilight. Nearby swam a pair of loons. A beaver circled, territorially slapping the water with its tail. I smiled and listened.
Location: Long Lake, Talkeetna, AK
Weather: variable over the course of the night, 49-61°F, light to no wind, humidity rose from 31-52%
Geophony: Clear lake in a hilly boreal taiga, dominated by White Spruce, Bird, and thick beds of diverse mosses
Anthrophony: myself @90 feet, distant ambient generators (most of which I’ve edited out)
Biophony: Common Loon (Gavia Immer), Swainson’s Thrush (Catharus Ustulatus), American Robin (Turdus migratorius), other birds I don’t recognize, Beaver, insects (mostly white flies & mosquitos), river otter (visible, but silent)
For the gear curious: stereo downmix from double mid-side mid channels: MKH8040x2 side channel: MKH30 recorder: Zaxcom MAXX
I spent a night in a bed of moss, listening to the sounds of Springtime Alaskan boreal taiga in the twilight. Nearby swam a pair of loons. A beaver circled, territorially slapping the water with its tail. I smiled and listened.
Location: Long Lake, Talkeetna, AK
Weather: variable over the course of the night, 49-61°F, light to no wind, humidity rose from 31-52%
Geophony: Clear lake in a hilly boreal taiga, dominated by White Spruce, Bird, and thick beds of diverse mosses
Anthrophony: myself @90 feet, distant ambient generators (most of which I’ve edited out)
Biophony: Common Loon (Gavia Immer), Swainson’s Thrush (Catharus Ustulatus), American Robin (Turdus migratorius), other birds I don’t recognize, Beaver, insects (mostly white flies & mosquitos), river otter (visible, but silent)
For the gear curious: stereo downmix from double mid-side mid channels: MKH8040x2 side channel: MKH30 recorder: Zaxcom MAXX
I spent a night in a bed of moss, listening to the sounds of Springtime Alaskan boreal taiga in the twilight. Nearby swam a pair of loons. A beaver circled, territorially slapping the water with its tail. I smiled and listened.
Location: Long Lake, Talkeetna, AK
Weather: variable over the course of the night, 49-61°F, light to no wind, humidity rose from 31-52%
Geophony: Clear lake in a hilly boreal taiga, dominated by White Spruce, Bird, and thick beds of diverse mosses
Anthrophony: myself @90 feet, distant ambient generators (most of which I’ve edited out)
Biophony: Common Loon (Gavia Immer), Swainson’s Thrush (Catharus Ustulatus), American Robin (Turdus migratorius), other birds I don’t recognize, Beaver, insects (mostly white flies & mosquitos), river otter (visible, but silent)
For the gear curious: stereo downmix from double mid-side mid channels: MKH8040x2 side channel: MKH30 recorder: Zaxcom MAXX
I spent a night in a bed of moss, listening to the sounds of Springtime Alaskan boreal taiga in the twilight. Nearby swam a pair of loons. A beaver circled, territorially slapping the water with its tail. I smiled and listened.
Location: Long Lake, Talkeetna, AK
Weather: variable over the course of the night, 49-61°F, light to no wind, humidity rose from 31-52%
Geophony: Clear lake in a hilly boreal taiga, dominated by White Spruce, Bird, and thick beds of diverse mosses
Anthrophony: myself @90 feet, distant ambient generators (most of which I’ve edited out)
Biophony: Common Loon (Gavia Immer), Swainson’s Thrush (Catharus Ustulatus), American Robin (Turdus migratorius), other birds I don’t recognize, Beaver, insects (mostly white flies & mosquitos), river otter (visible, but silent)
For the gear curious: stereo downmix from double mid-side mid channels: MKH8040x2 side channel: MKH30 recorder: Zaxcom MAXX
Sinlahekin Valley is the heart of the Sinlahekin Wildlife Area, a large unit managed by the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife. A mixture of ranch land, managed big-game area, protected wildlife refuge, and dedicated recreation area, Sinlahekin is a beautiful, bio-diverse and extremely habitat diverse region protected from human over-run more from remoteness than anything else. The valley itself is a 16 mile long, 1/2-mile wide glacier-dug trench near the Northeastern slope of the Cascades. With steep valley walls reaching up to 1600 ft, the Western side is deeply influenced and firmly a part of the Cascades' slope. With steep soaring cliffs, high-spilling waterfalls, rocky outcroppings, it feels much more "mountain" than the other side. The Eastern side has much more rolling slopes, more open meadow and field area. The slops and high areas of either side of the valley are populated by bighorn sheep and marmots, as well as other upland wildlife and game birds. The valley floor, where I spent most of my time, has a diverse mixture of migratory songbirds, waterfowl, resident Central Washington birds, and the ever-present Pacific Chorus Frogs that are a fixture of the Northwest Soundscape. I was lucky on this visit to be there on days with almost no wind. A gentle breeze blew through from time to time, but for the exception of one dusk blow-through the air was still the entire time. One signature of this visit was distant water spillage. I'm told that normally at this time of the year the cascade spills have flushed to a drizzle and the creeks and marsh ponds of the valley have peaked and are on their downflow. However, as we now know this past winter was an incredible anomaly, setting record rain and snow fall throughout the Northwest. Cascade spills are still shooting over the western wall of the valley. The spring-fed creek that lazily winds through the valley is surging at nearly 20 its normal flow. Ponds have tiny green islands that are actually the tops of the trees that ring the normal shore. I've not filtered any of the water wash in these recordings. I don't like doing that. These are unprocessed "recorded in the raw" recordings, with no editing beyond simply choosing the start & stop points, each from 3-4 hour long takes. Enjoy!
Sinlahekin Valley is the heart of the Sinlahekin Wildlife Area, a large unit managed by the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife. A mixture of ranch land, managed big-game area, protected wildlife refuge, and dedicated recreation area, Sinlahekin is a beautiful, bio-diverse and extremely habitat diverse region protected from human over-run more from remoteness than anything else. The valley itself is a 16 mile long, 1/2-mile wide glacier-dug trench near the Northeastern slope of the Cascades. With steep valley walls reaching up to 1600 ft, the Western side is deeply influenced and firmly a part of the Cascades' slope. With steep soaring cliffs, high-spilling waterfalls, rocky outcroppings, it feels much more "mountain" than the other side. The Eastern side has much more rolling slopes, more open meadow and field area. The slops and high areas of either side of the valley are populated by bighorn sheep and marmots, as well as other upland wildlife and game birds. The valley floor, where I spent most of my time, has a diverse mixture of migratory songbirds, waterfowl, resident Central Washington birds, and the ever-present Pacific Chorus Frogs that are a fixture of the Northwest Soundscape. I was lucky on this visit to be there on days with almost no wind. A gentle breeze blew through from time to time, but for the exception of one dusk blow-through the air was still the entire time. One signature of this visit was distant water spillage. I'm told that normally at this time of the year the cascade spills have flushed to a drizzle and the creeks and marsh ponds of the valley have peaked and are on their downflow. However, as we now know this past winter was an incredible anomaly, setting record rain and snow fall throughout the Northwest. Cascade spills are still shooting over the western wall of the valley. The spring-fed creek that lazily winds through the valley is surging at nearly 20 its normal flow. Ponds have tiny green islands that are actually the tops of the trees that ring the normal shore. I've not filtered any of the water wash in these recordings. I don't like doing that. These are unprocessed "recorded in the raw" recordings, with no editing beyond simply choosing the start & stop points, each from 3-4 hour long takes. Enjoy!
Sinlahekin Valley is the heart of the Sinlahekin Wildlife Area, a large unit managed by the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife. A mixture of ranch land, managed big-game area, protected wildlife refuge, and dedicated recreation area, Sinlahekin is a beautiful, bio-diverse and extremely habitat diverse region protected from human over-run more from remoteness than anything else. The valley itself is a 16 mile long, 1/2-mile wide glacier-dug trench near the Northeastern slope of the Cascades. With steep valley walls reaching up to 1600 ft, the Western side is deeply influenced and firmly a part of the Cascades' slope. With steep soaring cliffs, high-spilling waterfalls, rocky outcroppings, it feels much more "mountain" than the other side. The Eastern side has much more rolling slopes, more open meadow and field area. The slops and high areas of either side of the valley are populated by bighorn sheep and marmots, as well as other upland wildlife and game birds. The valley floor, where I spent most of my time, has a diverse mixture of migratory songbirds, waterfowl, resident Central Washington birds, and the ever-present Pacific Chorus Frogs that are a fixture of the Northwest Soundscape. I was lucky on this visit to be there on days with almost no wind. A gentle breeze blew through from time to time, but for the exception of one dusk blow-through the air was still the entire time. One signature of this visit was distant water spillage. I'm told that normally at this time of the year the cascade spills have flushed to a drizzle and the creeks and marsh ponds of the valley have peaked and are on their downflow. However, as we now know this past winter was an incredible anomaly, setting record rain and snow fall throughout the Northwest. Cascade spills are still shooting over the western wall of the valley. The spring-fed creek that lazily winds through the valley is surging at nearly 20 its normal flow. Ponds have tiny green islands that are actually the tops of the trees that ring the normal shore. I've not filtered any of the water wash in these recordings. I don't like doing that. These are unprocessed "recorded in the raw" recordings, with no editing beyond simply choosing the start & stop points, each from 3-4 hour long takes. Enjoy!
Sinlahekin Valley is the heart of the Sinlahekin Wildlife Area, a large unit managed by the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife. A mixture of ranch land, managed big-game area, protected wildlife refuge, and dedicated recreation area, Sinlahekin is a beautiful, bio-diverse and extremely habitat diverse region protected from human over-run more from remoteness than anything else. The valley itself is a 16 mile long, 1/2-mile wide glacier-dug trench near the Northeastern slope of the Cascades. With steep valley walls reaching up to 1600 ft, the Western side is deeply influenced and firmly a part of the Cascades' slope. With steep soaring cliffs, high-spilling waterfalls, rocky outcroppings, it feels much more "mountain" than the other side. The Eastern side has much more rolling slopes, more open meadow and field area. The slops and high areas of either side of the valley are populated by bighorn sheep and marmots, as well as other upland wildlife and game birds. The valley floor, where I spent most of my time, has a diverse mixture of migratory songbirds, waterfowl, resident Central Washington birds, and the ever-present Pacific Chorus Frogs that are a fixture of the Northwest Soundscape. I was lucky on this visit to be there on days with almost no wind. A gentle breeze blew through from time to time, but for the exception of one dusk blow-through the air was still the entire time. One signature of this visit was distant water spillage. I'm told that normally at this time of the year the cascade spills have flushed to a drizzle and the creeks and marsh ponds of the valley have peaked and are on their downflow. However, as we now know this past winter was an incredible anomaly, setting record rain and snow fall throughout the Northwest. Cascade spills are still shooting over the western wall of the valley. The spring-fed creek that lazily winds through the valley is surging at nearly 20 its normal flow. Ponds have tiny green islands that are actually the tops of the trees that ring the normal shore. I've not filtered any of the water wash in these recordings. I don't like doing that. These are unprocessed "recorded in the raw" recordings, with no editing beyond simply choosing the start & stop points, each from 3-4 hour long takes. Enjoy!
Sinlahekin Valley is the heart of the Sinlahekin Wildlife Area, a large unit managed by the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife. A mixture of ranch land, managed big-game area, protected wildlife refuge, and dedicated recreation area, Sinlahekin is a beautiful, bio-diverse and extremely habitat diverse region protected from human over-run more from remoteness than anything else. The valley itself is a 16 mile long, 1/2-mile wide glacier-dug trench near the Northeastern slope of the Cascades. With steep valley walls reaching up to 1600 ft, the Western side is deeply influenced and firmly a part of the Cascades' slope. With steep soaring cliffs, high-spilling waterfalls, rocky outcroppings, it feels much more "mountain" than the other side. The Eastern side has much more rolling slopes, more open meadow and field area. The slops and high areas of either side of the valley are populated by bighorn sheep and marmots, as well as other upland wildlife and game birds. The valley floor, where I spent most of my time, has a diverse mixture of migratory songbirds, waterfowl, resident Central Washington birds, and the ever-present Pacific Chorus Frogs that are a fixture of the Northwest Soundscape. I was lucky on this visit to be there on days with almost no wind. A gentle breeze blew through from time to time, but for the exception of one dusk blow-through the air was still the entire time. One signature of this visit was distant water spillage. I'm told that normally at this time of the year the cascade spills have flushed to a drizzle and the creeks and marsh ponds of the valley have peaked and are on their downflow. However, as we now know this past winter was an incredible anomaly, setting record rain and snow fall throughout the Northwest. Cascade spills are still shooting over the western wall of the valley. The spring-fed creek that lazily winds through the valley is surging at nearly 20 its normal flow. Ponds have tiny green islands that are actually the tops of the trees that ring the normal shore. I've not filtered any of the water wash in these recordings. I don't like doing that. These are unprocessed "recorded in the raw" recordings, with no editing beyond simply choosing the start & stop points, each from 3-4 hour long takes. Enjoy!
Sinlahekin Valley is the heart of the Sinlahekin Wildlife Area, a large unit managed by the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife. A mixture of ranch land, managed big-game area, protected wildlife refuge, and dedicated recreation area, Sinlahekin is a beautiful, bio-diverse and extremely habitat diverse region protected from human over-run more from remoteness than anything else. The valley itself is a 16 mile long, 1/2-mile wide glacier-dug trench near the Northeastern slope of the Cascades. With steep valley walls reaching up to 1600 ft, the Western side is deeply influenced and firmly a part of the Cascades' slope. With steep soaring cliffs, high-spilling waterfalls, rocky outcroppings, it feels much more "mountain" than the other side. The Eastern side has much more rolling slopes, more open meadow and field area. The slops and high areas of either side of the valley are populated by bighorn sheep and marmots, as well as other upland wildlife and game birds. The valley floor, where I spent most of my time, has a diverse mixture of migratory songbirds, waterfowl, resident Central Washington birds, and the ever-present Pacific Chorus Frogs that are a fixture of the Northwest Soundscape. I was lucky on this visit to be there on days with almost no wind. A gentle breeze blew through from time to time, but for the exception of one dusk blow-through the air was still the entire time. One signature of this visit was distant water spillage. I'm told that normally at this time of the year the cascade spills have flushed to a drizzle and the creeks and marsh ponds of the valley have peaked and are on their downflow. However, as we now know this past winter was an incredible anomaly, setting record rain and snow fall throughout the Northwest. Cascade spills are still shooting over the western wall of the valley. The spring-fed creek that lazily winds through the valley is surging at nearly 20 its normal flow. Ponds have tiny green islands that are actually the tops of the trees that ring the normal shore. I've not filtered any of the water wash in these recordings. I don't like doing that. These are unprocessed "recorded in the raw" recordings, with no editing beyond simply choosing the start & stop points, each from 3-4 hour long takes. Enjoy!
Sinlahekin Valley is the heart of the Sinlahekin Wildlife Area, a large unit managed by the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife. A mixture of ranch land, managed big-game area, protected wildlife refuge, and dedicated recreation area, Sinlahekin is a beautiful, bio-diverse and extremely habitat diverse region protected from human over-run more from remoteness than anything else. The valley itself is a 16 mile long, 1/2-mile wide glacier-dug trench near the Northeastern slope of the Cascades. With steep valley walls reaching up to 1600 ft, the Western side is deeply influenced and firmly a part of the Cascades' slope. With steep soaring cliffs, high-spilling waterfalls, rocky outcroppings, it feels much more "mountain" than the other side. The Eastern side has much more rolling slopes, more open meadow and field area. The slops and high areas of either side of the valley are populated by bighorn sheep and marmots, as well as other upland wildlife and game birds. The valley floor, where I spent most of my time, has a diverse mixture of migratory songbirds, waterfowl, resident Central Washington birds, and the ever-present Pacific Chorus Frogs that are a fixture of the Northwest Soundscape. I was lucky on this visit to be there on days with almost no wind. A gentle breeze blew through from time to time, but for the exception of one dusk blow-through the air was still the entire time. One signature of this visit was distant water spillage. I'm told that normally at this time of the year the cascade spills have flushed to a drizzle and the creeks and marsh ponds of the valley have peaked and are on their downflow. However, as we now know this past winter was an incredible anomaly, setting record rain and snow fall throughout the Northwest. Cascade spills are still shooting over the western wall of the valley. The spring-fed creek that lazily winds through the valley is surging at nearly 20 its normal flow. Ponds have tiny green islands that are actually the tops of the trees that ring the normal shore. I've not filtered any of the water wash in these recordings. I don't like doing that. These are unprocessed "recorded in the raw" recordings, with no editing beyond simply choosing the start & stop points, each from 3-4 hour long takes. Enjoy!
Dusk falls on my second night at Conboy Lake National Wildlife Refuge in Glenwood, WA. Conboy is an important migratory stop and residency for many different kinds of waterfowl, songbirds, and cranes. There is a vibrancy of life here, echoed and heightened by the singing natural reverb, that makes me want to stay and listen forever. The lake itself is transient, filled by the melting cover of winter snow and the slow draining of the surrounding mountains and hills. This time of year the sound of trickling water is omnipresent as the shallow valley fills with still water. By late July all that will remain is a valley of hay with marshy grasses near the middle. Several groups of Greater Sandhill Crane take advantage of this time between the melt and the drain to stop, rest, and calve. The young are fledged and ready to fly around the time lake has finally emptied. A light drizzling rain had settled in over the valley during this recording. It dissipates a bit after 8 minutes, only to come back with strength around 26 minutes. Some highlights: A large flock of Canada Geese circles through, first around the 1 minute mark, the next around 7 minutes Sandhill Cranes crow throughout the piece, but listen to the eruption at 11 minutes to get a full sense of the space. Wilsen's Snipe are common in the area. You can hear their feathers beating constantly. They also make the constant "peep-peep-peep-peep" call you hear throughout. Pacific Chorus Frogs don't like rain, apparently, and delayed coming out en masse until well after sunset. Early on you can hear the last few straggling Meadowlarks and Red-Winged Blackbirds, eager to sing a little bit before bed now that the harder rain has ended. Other bird life include ducks, an owl, a few swallows, some strangers I don't recognize (I'd be much obliged if anyone can recognize that critter at 13:50 and another at 26:10)and more.
Ah, the mighty Westward BNSF Freight Train. Here we listen to it's mighty roar as it progresses on a westward migration. Stunning in it's majesty, rare to find in its pristine, untouched habitat: the long tracks. Like its cousin, the Eastward BNSF, it beats the ground in a display of dominance guaranteed to attract attention and hopefully a mate. A rather more recent introduction to the Pacific Northwest soundscape, BNSFs have established themselves as long-term residents, outcompeting indigenous rivals for the scarce resources necessary to survive in an unforgiving yet beautiful landscape. Unlike its cousin, the Westward BNSF appears to fear the sun and lives its life in constant flight of the sunrise, its screams only serving as painful reminders to others of its species of the horrors that await if they don't flee. In this clip, a BNSF can be heard racing by at its full natural top-speed of almost 55 miles per hour, making it not quite as fast as the swift Cheetah. Unlike that sprinter, the BNSF is it in the race for endurance and can maintain this rate as long as there is track to run on and energy to consume.
Ah, the mighty Eastward BNSF Freight Train. Here we listen to it's mighty roar as it progresses on a westward migration. Stunning in it's majesty, rare to find in its pristine, untouched habitat: the long tracks. Like its cousin, the Westward BNSF, it beats the ground in a display of dominance guaranteed to attract attention and hopefully a mate. A rather more recent introduction to the Pacific Northwest soundscape, BNSFs have established themselves as long-term residents, outcompeting indigenous rivals for the scarce resources necessary to survive in an unforgiving yet beautiful landscape. A little known fact about the Eastward BNSF is that it yearns for the sun, facing this solar desire with every guttural roar in what appears to be an unending quest to touch the solar life-bringer. In this clip, a BNSF can be heard racing by at its full natural top-speed of almost 55 miles per hour, making it not quite as fast as the swift Cheetah. Unlike that sprinter, the BNSF is it in the race for endurance and can maintain this rate as long as there is track to run on and energy to consume.
What a difference 12 hours makes. In that amount of time, this exact same location will transform from a morning café of Red-Winged Blackbirds, Sparrows, Robins, Squirrels, and distant water run-off wash, into a wall of amphibious sonority: https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner/pacific-chorus-frogs-dusk-down
Downmixed from a double-mid-side recording. The Pacific Chorus Frogs are out in full-bloom already. If you listen closely, the frogs highlighted in the parabolic track are audible primarily in the left channel. Hear that track here: https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner/pacific-chorus-frogs-dusk?in=soundeziner/sets/nws_sidetrips
I sat a with a few of my newest tiny friends tonight, letting sing away in my ears through a parabolic reflector. Recorded simultaneously with my usual Double mid-side rig 50 feet away, you can hear these frogs audibly on the left side in in that track here: https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner/pacific-chorus-frogs-dusk-down
The Colockum Wildlife Area in Washington is apparently a popular hunting destination. Fortunately, at this time of the year there is no hunting to be had, so the whole area was quiet, mostly absent of humanity, including campers or hikers. In the three days I spent here I saw only one other face. I had plenty of non-human friends keeping me company, so I was alone, but not all alone. Bernie Krause famously compared soundscape recordings to symphonic orchestrations. He’s right. In a healthy soundscape there’s a place for everyone. They fit together in pitch, rhythm, and volume. Zoom out in a soundscape in a spectral editor, such as Izotope’s RX, and what you see is a beautiful emergent composition. There’s an order without it being ordered. All the voices are competing for their own space, and the easiest way to win that space is to carve out a slice no one else has claimed. When that happens, the result is a complex tapestry of life. I only wish I could have been around here 500 years ago to know what it was like before European American settlers began cutting down the forests.
On the morning of 06 July, 2016, I awoke to the mellow “poor-will-low” of a Common Poorwill and the distant “peents” and later the croaking “booms" of Nighthawks. Both Poorwills and Nighthawks are members of the nocturnal Nightjar family. I’ve gotten used to hearing them for the short period after everyone else has roosted for the night or just before dawn, but until recently I hadn’t been able to readily identify either. Here a Nighthawk is still awake well after the sun has started its march into the sky, although it's not even 4:30am on this early summer morning in the Colockum Wildlife Area of Washington.
I camped out off Brewton Road near Colockum Pass for the first night. Falling asleep to the sounds of distant lowing cattle. In the morning I awoke to the mellow “poor-will-low” of a Common Poorwill and the distant “peents” and later the croaking “booms" of Nighthawks. Both Poorwills and Nighthawks are crepuscular members of the Nightjar family. I’ve gotten used to hearing both for a short time after everyone else has roosted for the night or just before dawn, but until recently I hadn’t been able to readily identify either. I like to think of Poorwills as the alarm clocks of the scrublands: I always hear them first, and the chatter of other morning birds always starts as an annoyed “wassat?” shortly after. Fun fact: the Common Poorwill was the first scientifically-identified hibernating bird, although the indigenous Hopi peoples knew it for far longer and called it “hölchko” or “The Sleeping One."
As mellow as the Poorwill is, the Nightjar loudly makes its presence known, not with calls or song, but with loud croaking “booms” made by its wings when pulled in for a dive. When I first heard Nighthawks in the field I thought it was a sick Raven or aggressive distant bullfrog (flying bullfrog?). Indeed, they are sometimes known as “bull-bats” as they often are found feeding in the dark with the mammalian fliers.
Other singers throughout the chorus include Juncos, Creepers, Woodpeckers, Yellowthroats, Chickadees, Swallows, Sparrows, Waxwings, and even a daylight-confused Owl around the 28 minute mark.
Geophony: rocky shrub steppe with mixed grasses and vegetation, some stands of Ponderosa Pine Temperature at start: 48°F Humidity: 67% Pressure: 29.98" and steady Wind: 3mph from ENE Anthrophony: Recordist
Giant three-bladed wind turbines dominating the landscape of the Wild Horse Wind Facility in Kittitas County, WA. The facility provides on of the main entrances to the Colockum Wildlife Area and Naneum Ridge, so I stopped to record on my way through. Pictures don't do their size justice. Each blade in the length of a 747, so just imagine three jetliners spinning around overhead and you have an idea of what's going on here.
Giant three-bladed wind turbines dominating the landscape of the Wild Horse Wind Facility in Kittitas County, WA. The facility provides on of the main entrances to the Colockum Wildlife Area and Naneum Ridge, so I stopped to record on my way through. Pictures don't do their size justice. Each blade in the length of a 747, so just imagine three jetliners spinning around overhead and you have an idea of what's going on here.
On the morning of 06 July, 2016, I awoke to the mellow “poor-will-low” of a Common Poorwill and the distant “peents” and later the croaking “booms" of Nighthawks. Both Poorwills and Nighthawks are members of the nocturnal Nightjar family. I’ve gotten used to hearing them for the short period after everyone else has roosted for the night or just before dawn, but until recently I hadn’t been able to readily identify either. I like to think of Poorwills as the alarm clocks of the scrublands: I always hear them first, and the chatter of other morning birds always starts as an annoyed “wassat?” shortly after. Fun fact: the Common Poorwill was the first scientifically-identified hibernating bird, although the indigenous Hopi peoples knew that for far longer and called it “hölchko” or “The Sleeping One."
Part of my occasional "Will It Whoosh" mental warm up, where I take 10 minutes to put something on a string and twirl it in front of a microphone to see if it'll whoosh. A squeaker (as you would find in a giggle tube or a stuffed animal), on some monofilament fishing line (not the best choice as monofilament is kind of whistle-y). Does it whoosh: yes
Download it. Use it. Let me know.
Part of my occasional "Will It Whoosh" mental warm up, where I take 10 minutes to put something on a string and twirl it in front of a microphone to see if it'll whoosh. A squeaker (as you would find in a giggle tube or a stuffed animal), on some monofilament fishing line (not the best choice as monofilament is kind of whistle-y). Does it whoosh: yes
Download it. Use it. Let me know.
Part of my occasional "Will It Whoosh" mental warm up, where I take 10 minutes to put something on a string and twirl it in front of a microphone to see if it'll whoosh. A squeaker (as you would find in a giggle tube or a stuffed animal), on some monofilament fishing line (not the best choice as monofilament is kind of whistle-y). Does it whoosh: yes
Download it. Use it. Let me know.
Part of my occasional "Will It Whoosh" mental warm up, where I take 10 minutes to put something on a string and twirl it in front of a microphone to see if it'll whoosh. A squeaker (as you would find in a giggle tube or a stuffed animal), on some monofilament fishing line (not the best choice as monofilament is kind of whistle-y). Does it whoosh: yes
Download it. Use it. Let me know.
Similar to 01 in this series, this is more of that “twittery-pop” call… but… more. This is from a raven that settled somewhere around 50 ft above above me (and some distance away) and proceeded to make this brilliant “twittery-pop”. I knew the “pop” was a common raven call that varied with location and population, but I’d never heard anything like the long trilling twitter made before the pop. A few times after the “pop” you can hear it either gulp or beak snap. The twitter and beak snap are just reminders that the raven really is North America’s largest songbird.
The recording’s a bit noisy because of distance and the oyster-hatchery across the bay, so I’ve included a noise-reduced version first that enhances the details, but loses some of the beautiful reverb of the trees. The original recording follows.
Ravens and crows never cease to amaze me with the range of vocalizations they have beyond the mere “wonk-wonk" and “caw-caw” we normally think of them having. They have a high degree of intelligence and communication ability. I really wish I could sit in on a translation of these birds and hear what they have to say, “There’s a weirdo down their with a microphone.” “Yeah. I saw.”
This is from a raven that settled somewhere around 50 ft above above me (and some distance away) and proceeded to make this brilliant “twittery-pop”. I knew the “pop” was a common raven call that varied with location and population, but I’d never heard anything like the long trilling twitter made before the pop. A few times after the “pop” you can hear it either gulp or beak snap. The twitter and beak snap are just reminders that the raven really is North America’s largest songbird.
The recording’s a bit noisy because of distance, so I’ve included a noise-reduced version immediately after that enhances the details, but loses some of the beautiful reverb of the trees.
The only thing I can say about this is, aw, aren’t raven’s cool? I mean really, “Wonk”?
There’s really not a lot to be said about this recording. The story IN the recording is worth listening to. The site is a permanent roost for a mob of ravens. This is their home. On a daily basis, though, their home is utilized by a murder of crows as a staging area for their final roost. After a long day of foraging, the crow gang descends to overrun the area before moving along. It’s clear the ravens don’t like the crows. They sound agitated. You can hear their frantic calling as if to say, “It’s that time of day. Everyone hide the shiny stuff!”. After the shadow of crows falls, the ravens occasionally try to run them off, dispersing them from their favorite trees, saying, “Hey! You’re not one of us!” They fly after the crows, causing them to lift up and circle around.
When the crows do finally move along comes a moment of silence. The ravens are listening, waiting to see if it’s okay to go about again. There are a couple test “wonks” (around the 25:16 mark) followed by the surprise flight of a few dallying crows. Another minute goes by and finally the whole raven mob comes out from their shelters, swapping stories, wiping sweat from their brows, and calling to each other, “Are they really gone???!?”
I’m at a loss for words here. I have no idea what’s happening above my head. My first thought was that the raven was smacking something against a tree branch, possibly an oyster shell (oysters are plentiful in the area and popular corvid-food). Listening back, however, it’s clear this is an internally-created sound from a raven. Snapping its beak? There’s a little “gulp” sound it makes occasionally that makes this a viable conclusion.
The recording’s a bit noisy because of distance, so I’ve included a noise-reduced version immediately after that enhances the details, but loses some of the beautiful reverb of the trees.
From the pre-twilight still silence to a sun-risen cacophony of birds, squirrels, and elk. Just outside the fence of the Coffin Game Reserve in the Colockum Wildlife Area of Washington state on the morning of 2016, July 8. An elk herd sleeps nearby. In the silent distance, coyotes yip and bay. A male elk bugles to wake the herd. A nighthawk calls in the distance. After stirring the elk migrate past the microphones. One female hangs around to investigate, but is scared away by the unusualness of the Rycote. Birds include ravens, chickadees, nighthawks, wrens, jays, robins, and more. The geophony is a mixture of soft grasses, ponderosa pine, rocky outcroppings, and rolling hills.
Drummers gather to celebrate at Womxn's March Seattle while marchers continue to move through. A rolling wave cheer sweeps through the crowd. Chanters pass by, calling, "Hey-hey, ho-ho, misogyny has got to go!". The drummers stop amidst cheers as more chanters call, "Build a bridge, not a wall!" All the while a news helicopter circles above, reverberating through the downtown.
On January 21st, 2017, Seattle joined forces and unite for the Womxn’s March on Seattle in solidarity with the national Women’s March on Washington D.C. and other sister events around the world.
With an estimated crowd of over 150,000 marchers, it was one of the largest peaceful marches in Seattle history. The full march stretched nearly 3.5 miles, starting at Judkins Park and ending at Seattle Center.
In an effort to aid in documenting this historic event for future generations, I made my way through the crowd and recorded from numerous vantage points, never hiding myself nor taking my presence out of the situation.
I present these tracks to you to have and download and use free of license or attribution. I would only ask that you use them to honor and respect the mission of the march and do not seek to use them to harm, hurt, oppress, marginalize, or otherwise minimize anyone's plight.
If you use these tracks in a for-profit manner, I'd appreciate the thanks and credit.
More about the Women's March: womxnsmarchseattle.wordpress.com
Womxn's March SeattleBlack Lives MatterChantingdemonstrationmarch
Indigenous tribal members chant, "You can't have justice on stolen land!" near the start of the Womxn's March in Seattle. They are followed by singing and hand drums. Marching to the side, rather than directly in the route, they remind us a struggle that has too long been ignored.
On January 21st, 2017, Seattle joined forces and unite for the Womxn’s March on Seattle in solidarity with the national Women’s March on Washington D.C. and other sister events around the world.
With an estimated crowd of over 150,000 marchers, it was one of the largest peaceful marches in Seattle history. The full march stretched nearly 3.5 miles, starting at Judkins Park and ending at Seattle Center.
In an effort to aid in documenting this historic event for future generations, I made my way through the crowd and recorded from numerous vantage points, never hiding myself nor taking my presence out of the situation.
I present these tracks to you to have and download and use free of license or attribution. I would only ask that you use them to honor and respect the mission of the march and do not seek to use them to harm, hurt, oppress, marginalize, or otherwise minimize anyone's plight.
If you use these tracks in a for-profit manner, I'd appreciate the thanks and credit.
More about the Women's March: womxnsmarchseattle.wordpress.com
Bookended by massive march-length cheers, a frontline group marching at the Womxn's March in Seattle chants in call-and-response, "Tell me what democracy looks like! This is what democracy looks like!"
On January 21st, 2017, Seattle joined forces and unite for the Womxn’s March on Seattle in solidarity with the national Women’s March on Washington D.C. and other sister events around the world.
With an estimated crowd of over 150,000 marchers, it was one of the largest peaceful marches in Seattle history. The full march stretched nearly 3.5 miles, starting at Judkins Park and ending at Seattle Center.
In an effort to aid in documenting this historic event for future generations, I made my way through the crowd and recorded from numerous vantage points, never hiding myself nor taking my presence out of the situation.
I present these tracks to you to have and download and use free of license or attribution. I would only ask that you use them to honor and respect the mission of the march and do not seek to use them to harm, hurt, oppress, marginalize, or otherwise minimize anyone's plight.
If you use these tracks in a for-profit manner, I'd appreciate the thanks and credit.
More about the Women's March: womxnsmarchseattle.wordpress.com
After pausing to listen to a speaker, the frontline demonstrators marching at the Womxn's March in Seattle resume with a call-and-response chant. "Say it loud, say it clear: Refugees are welcome here!"
On January 21st, 2017, Seattle joined forces and unite for the Womxn’s March on Seattle in solidarity with the national Women’s March on Washington D.C. and other sister events around the world.
With an estimated crowd of over 150,000 marchers, it was one of the largest peaceful marches in Seattle history. The full march stretched nearly 3.5 miles, starting at Judkins Park and ending at Seattle Center.
In an effort to aid in documenting this historic event for future generations, I made my way through the crowd and recorded from numerous vantage points, never hiding myself nor taking my presence out of the situation.
I present these tracks to you to have and download and use free of license or attribution. I would only ask that you use them to honor and respect the mission of the march and do not seek to use them to harm, hurt, oppress, marginalize, or otherwise minimize anyone's plight.
If you use these tracks in a for-profit manner, I'd appreciate the thanks and credit.
More about the Women's March: womxnsmarchseattle.wordpress.com
Black Lives Matter demonstrators marching at the Womxn's March in Seattle call-and-respond chant, "Whose lives matter? Black Lives Matter!". Down the block a religious proselytizer yells into a bullhorn. When the marchers are reach him, they stop, standing strong and chanting in his direction until he relents, causing a cheer to break out among the onlookers. The marchers continue with another call and reponse, "When women's rights are under attack, what do we do? Stand up, fight back!" A circling news helicopter gathers aerial footage from above.
On January 21st, 2017, Seattle joined forces and unite for the Womxn’s March on Seattle in solidarity with the national Women’s March on Washington D.C. and other sister events around the world.
With an estimated crowd of over 150,000 marchers, it was one of the largest peaceful marches in Seattle history. The full march stretched nearly 3.5 miles, starting at Judkins Park and ending at Seattle Center.
In an effort to aid in documenting this historic event for future generations, I made my way through the crowd and recorded from numerous vantage points, never hiding myself nor taking my presence out of the situation.
I present these tracks to you to have and download and use free of license or attribution. I would only ask that you use them to honor and respect the mission of the march and do not seek to use them to harm, hurt, oppress, marginalize, or otherwise minimize anyone's plight.
If you use these tracks in a for-profit manner, I'd appreciate the thanks and credit.
More about the Women's March: womxnsmarchseattle.wordpress.com
So I bought an elektrosluch 3+, like every other sound designer in the world at the moment. I've used RadioShack "Telephone Mics" (cheap electrical coil transducers)for a long time, and I wanted to see if there really was a marked improvement. THERE IS. Oh, there is. The first thing I did was record the radio signal from the bluetooth transmitter on my Logitech keyboard. Not for any grand reason mind you. It was simply on my desk in front of me. What I heard had a fantastic rhythm to it with a strong funky attitude. I'm not a composer by stretch of the imagination, but when I heard it I was inspired to open up my favorite stereo editor and whip up a little diddy with the source. The result was composer with only editing and some varispeeding. No other processing was done t... okay... some dynamic range limiting and normalization, but nothing else!
So I bought an elektrosluch 3+, like every other sound designer in the world at the moment. I've used RadioShack "Telephone Mics" (cheap electrical coil transducers)for a long time, and I wanted to see if there really was a marked improvement. THERE IS. Oh, there is. The first thing I did was record the radio signal from the bluetooth transmitter on my Logitech keyboard. Not for any grand reason mind you. It was simply on my desk in front of me. What I heard had a fantastic rhythm to it with a strong funky attitude. I'm not a composer by stretch of the imagination, but when I heard it I was inspired to open up my favorite stereo editor and whip up a little diddy with the source. The result was composer with only editing and some varispeeding. No other processing was done t... okay... some dynamic range limiting and normalization, but nothing else!
Traveling home on the last day I made a couple pit stops. The first was to record some particularly impatient cattle lined up by a roadside pasture waiting for breakfast.
Traveling home, I made a pit-stop to head into the forests after passing over the Cascades to record… some cascades
Traveling home, I made a pit-stop to head into the forests after passing over the Cascades to record… some cascades
My final night I set up near the same location I had the evening before, but in a higher elevation, away from the marsh and into the plateau. I’d heard coyotes coming from that direction the night before and I needed to see if I could catch a hint of them before leaving. I wasn’t disappointed, being scared half-witted by the sound that erupted in my headphones just at the moment I’d thought I’d missed them. I was admittedly nervous about going back up to collect my microphones but later realized the pack had likely moved on and remembered that coyotes don’t hunt human-sized meat. I think. I hope.
Because of the long summer-time aridness of the refuge, vegetation is sparse. Prairie grasses and sage dominate the landscape outside of the marshy coulees. There are times in which I felt like I was out just to record wind through sage.
The Columbia National Wildlife Refuge is an important stopover for many migrating birds, including Sandhill Crane. I missed the Crane stopover for this year, but did manage to catch a few other temporary residents, including the American Bittern. I’d never heard a bittern before this week, and so I was not actually aware of what I was hearing until I inquired at the refuge headquarters. To put it simply, Bitterns sound like great, giant drops of water followed by a loud swallowing-gulp.
Near the main entrance I found a marsh that is popular with Yellow-Headed Blackbirds. Raucous cousins of Redwing Blackbirds, these birds sound like they should live in a jungle. The males sit on exposed reeds or tree limbs and make great clock-wise swings with their heads and wings, letting out a long “marooooooow” call that sounds like a horribly frightened house-cat. Meanwhile, the females stay out-of-sight in the reeds with the young, but they create such a loud chatter it’s difficult to refer to them as “hidden”. Also abundantly present in this recording are mourning doves. One of the great birding tragedies of Seattle is that it lies west of the Cascade Mountains, a range the Mourning Dove has historically avoided crossing despite being resident in nearly every other part of North America.
Traveling into the refuge, I came upon a Cliff Swallow rookery. Thousands of swallows, darting in and out of the cliff, hanging in hundreds or thousands of nests. Their numbers were so great that the presence of two Red-tailed Hawks wasn’t something to be afraid of. Every time one would swoop close, the nests would empty and a great cloud of swallows would pester the hawk until it left.
The second trip of this project was to the Columbia Wildlife Refuge from June 9-12. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I was certainly not prepared for the stunning natural beauty of this location. Located in the the Channeled Scablands of the Northwest, the land around this area was carved out dramatically and violently during a series of ice age deluges. The Cordilleran Ice Sheet dammed up the Glacial Lake Missoula, which periodically broke free and scoured the land here free of soil and most life. Giant pot-hole-like formations called coulees show testimony to the power of the drainage, and to this day provide quiet refuge to animals such as birds, rabbits, and coyotes, as well as providing a rainwater collection point for marshy reeds to grow.
I arrived early in the morning of the 12th of May and set up near a still-water riparian area. This being the Cascade Mountains range, there was plenty of distant water wash everywhere, from small rivers and streams to snowmelt runoff. I managed to find a nice quiet area to set up, though, and spent the next 24 hours there. The non-riparian portion of the forest here was filled with typical Cascades’ evergreens such as Douglas Fir, Spruce, and the like. Near the water there was a greater abundance of Cottonwoods and other more deciduous trees.
These forests are filled with woodpeckers, thrushes, Pacific Wrens, and more. Speaking of thrushes, this is an area where you just can’t get away from American Robins during the morning and evening. Mid-day they tend to be quiet, probably foraging or resting form the hot sun. Mornings and evenings, however, the world is their stage. Their evening call is slightly faster, as if they’re ready for bed and can’t wait for their shift to end.
Later in the day I moseyed on back into the Mt Adams Wilderness. There had been a late snow, and roads were still closed going up into the mountain, so I had to stay at lower altitudes. Still, I found a quiet place to spend the afternoon and night. Early on the forest floor was thick with flies. This is fairly common, if sometimes annoying. Without taking careful notes it can often be difficult listening later, trying to suss out if a sound is from buzzing insects or distant chainsaws. Fortunately, this is not currently a logging area, so chainsaws were fairly easy to rule out. Later in the day and most of the night there was some fairly heavy rain, with minor flash floods in nearby campsites. I was safe, but I had a brief worry as to whether or not I’d be able to leave in the morning. Fortunately the road out drained fast and I was left just testing the mud-worthiness of my vehicle.
Conboy Lake is not a true year-round lake, but a dense marshy area that fills with snowmelt from the end of winter throughout the spring, forming a temporary lake that slows drains off throughout the long summer. It’s an important stopover for migratory birds such as Sandhill Crane, but also provides a year-round sanctuary for all manner of creatures, great and small. From typical Pacific Northwest songbirds such as Marsh Wren and Redwing Blackbirds, to Meadow Larks and Tree Swallows, to year-round populations of elk and mule deer, to coyotes, to bobcats and mountain lions, this is a place that has life all year round.
I spent the day driving around the area, looking for an ideal spot to record. As rural and quiet as it is, this can still be a difficult thing to do. Small sounds carry long distances in quiet places. Loud sounds carry still farther. Any car within a couple miles was audible through the microphones, so even when a location LOOKED perfect, it was still problematic.
That night I camped in a turn-out just outside of the refuge. It was a quiet night, but the insects were happy to sing for me.
Conboy Lake is not a true year-round lake, but a dense marshy area that fills with snowmelt from the end of winter throughout the spring, forming a temporary lake that slows drains off throughout the long summer. It’s an important stopover for migratory birds such as Sandhill Crane, but also provides a year-round sanctuary for all manner of creatures, great and small. From typical Pacific Northwest songbirds such as Marsh Wren and Redwing Blackbirds, to Meadow Larks and Tree Swallows, to year-round populations of elk and mule deer, to coyotes, to bobcats and mountain lions, this is a place that has life all year round.
I spent the day driving around the area, looking for an ideal spot to record. As rural and quiet as it is, this can still be a difficult thing to do. Small sounds carry long distances in quiet places. Loud sounds carry still farther. Any car within a couple miles was audible through the microphones, so even when a location LOOKED perfect, it was still problematic.
In the morning I made my way back into the Lake portion of the refuge to record the morning songbirds and Sandhill Crane waking up. It was a beautiful cacophony I want to return to again and again.
Conboy Lake is not a true year-round lake, but a dense marshy area that fills with snowmelt from the end of winter throughout the spring, forming a temporary lake that slows drains off throughout the long summer. It’s an important stopover for migratory birds such as Sandhill Crane, but also provides a year-round sanctuary for all manner of creatures, great and small. From typical Pacific Northwest songbirds such as Marsh Wren and Redwing Blackbirds, to Meadow Larks and Tree Swallows, to year-round populations of elk and mule deer, to coyotes, to bobcats and mountain lions, this is a place that has life all year round.
I spent the day driving around the area, looking for an ideal spot to record. As rural and quiet as it is, this can still be a difficult thing to do. Small sounds carry long distances in quiet places. Loud sounds carry still farther. Any car within a couple miles was audible through the microphones, so even when a location LOOKED perfect, it was still problematic.
My favorite recording came at dusk on this day. I found a secluded back-road through the refuge and set up on the border of a closed-off sanctuary marsh. The evening started with blackbirds and wrens, but those quickly faded away while the the insects, frogs, and snipe came out. Oh, those snipe. I had no idea what they were at first and needed a naturalist friend to identify them for me. This evening setting is a recording I can listen to over and over.
I arrived early in the morning of the 12th of May and set up near a still-water riparian area. This being the Cascade Mountains range, there was plenty of distant water wash everywhere, from small rivers and streams to snowmelt runoff. I managed to find a nice quiet area to set up, though, and spent the next 24 hours there. The non-riparian portion of the forest here was filled with typical Cascades’ evergreens such as Douglas Fir, Spruce, and the like. Near the water there was a greater abundance of Cottonwoods and other more deciduous trees.
These forests are filled with woodpeckers, thrushes, Pacific Wrens, and more. Speaking of thrushes, this is an area where you just can’t get away from American Robins during the morning and evening. Mid-day they tend to be quiet, probably foraging or resting form the hot sun. Mornings and evenings, however, the world is their stage. Their evening call is slightly faster, as if they’re ready for bed and can’t wait for their shift to end.
I arrived early in the morning of the 12th of May and set up near a still-water riparian area. This being the Cascade Mountains range, there was plenty of distant water wash everywhere, from small rivers and streams to snowmelt runoff. I managed to find a nice quiet area to set up, though, and spent the next 24 hours there. The non-riparian portion of the forest here was filled with typical Cascades’ evergreens such as Douglas Fir, Spruce, and the like. Near the water there was a greater abundance of Cottonwoods and other more deciduous trees.
These forests are filled with woodpeckers, thrushes, Pacific Wrens, and more. Speaking of thrushes, this is an area where you just can’t get away from American Robins during the morning and evening. Mid-day they tend to be quiet, probably foraging or resting form the hot sun. Mornings and evenings, however, the world is their stage. Their evening call is slightly faster, as if they’re ready for bed and can’t wait for their shift to end.
I arrived early in the morning of the 12th of May and set up near a still-water riparian area. This being the Cascade Mountains range, there was plenty of distant water wash everywhere, from small rivers and streams to snowmelt runoff. I managed to find a nice quiet area to set up, though, and spent the next 24 hours there. The non-riparian portion of the forest here was filled with typical Cascades’ evergreens such as Douglas Fir, Spruce, and the like. Near the water there was a greater abundance of Cottonwoods and other more deciduous trees.
These forests are filled with woodpeckers, thrushes, Pacific Wrens, and more. Speaking of thrushes, this is an area where you just can’t get away from American Robins during the morning and evening. Mid-day they tend to be quiet, probably foraging or resting form the hot sun. Mornings and evenings, however, the world is their stage. Their evening call is slightly faster, as if they’re ready for bed and can’t wait for their shift to end.
I spent another weekend in the Colockum Wildlife Area, camping at the border of Coffin Game Reserve for the last week of silence before firearm hunting season begins. The elk were particularly active, perhaps they knew what was coming and were trying to get everything out of life that they could.
The cows make mewling cry that I use think was from the young. The farther away a bull's bugle is heard in the distance, the more hillside and forest reverberation swallows it, the more musical and majestic it becomes.
The herd never really settles long in one spot and is constantly on the move. Distant recordings like this are thus the easiest and most common to make. Not long after dawn the herd had mostly moved away from my camp.
I spent another weekend in the Colockum Wildlife Area, camping at the border of Coffin Game Reserve for the last week of silence before firearm hunting season begins. The elk were particularly active, perhaps they knew what was coming and were trying to get everything out of life that they could.
Not long after dawn I witnessed a challenge. I heard it more than saw it, as it all took place on the other side of a stand of Ponderosa Pine. Two bulls met and clearly neither was going to quickly give on the right to the cows present nor the territory they roamed. They bellowed, galloped, and clashed antlers. I hadn't realized a challenge would last so long.
I learned a lot about elk vocalizations during this trip. The cows making mewling cry that I used to think was from the young. The bulls' bugles sound like very unsettling screams of torture from nearby. The farther away a bull's bugle is heard in the distance, the more hillside and forest reverberation swallows it, the more musical and majestic it becomes.
Interestingly, when in challenge, the bull's bugle turns into a bellow, a deep chesty roar that sounds not terribly unlike what one would expect to come from a Tyrannosaur on some Jurassic plain.
Listen carefully around 8:42-9:24 and again later starting at 13:32. You can hear the thumping of cloven hooves and the clashing of antlers as the two bulls go at it.
I spent another weekend in the Colockum Wildlife Area, camping at the border of Coffin Game Reserve for the last week of silence before firearm hunting season begins. The elk were particularly active, perhaps they knew what was coming and were trying to get everything out of life that they could.
A cow munched on grass near my microphone for nearly an hour. The sound was so lulling that I had dozed off, succumbing to the lack of sleep that arises from recording distant elk all night. That's when her bull decided to move the herd on and screams nearby, less that 20 feet from the mic. It was so loud as I was monitoring that I jumped up in the car. I looked out, only to see the cow peacefully continuing to munch away. "I've heard it all before", she seemed to say.
20 minutes or so after this recording she would finally work her way over close enough to decide that sniffing and licking the microphone windscreen would be interesting. I now have a grass-green swirly on my furry!
I spent another weekend in the Colockum Wildlife Area, camping at the border of Coffin Game Reserve for the last week of silence before firearm hunting season begins. The elk were particularly active, perhaps they knew what was coming and were trying to get everything out of life that they could.
The cows make mewling cry that I use think was from the young. The farther away a bull's bugle is heard in the distance, the more hillside and forest reverberation swallows it, the more musical and majestic it becomes.
The herd never really settles long in one spot and is constantly on the move. Distant recordings like this are thus the easiest and most common to make. Not long after dawn the herd had mostly moved away from my camp.
Dawn near the Coffin Game Reserve in the Colockum Wildlife Area in central Washington. A herd of elk bedded down for the evening across the meadow from my tent. As the sun moved toward first light, the large males began to stir the herd, bugling out that it was time to awake. They were answered by a nearby coyote pack that was getting ready to take itself to bed. The cries of the pack and the cries of the herd briefly intermingle.
technical notes There was actually a 46 second lull between the initial bugle in this recording and the first coyote howl. This was the only edit I made. For brevity. The recording itself was pretty darn far away. There is a very light amount of noise reduction.
It's been a while since I've updated everyone on The Northwest Soundscape Project, so I thought I'd upload a passage from a recent trip. This is an evening recording made at the Conboy Lake National Wildlife Refuge https://www.fws.gov/refuge/conboy_lake/ on May 13, 2016.
To anyone that lives rurally around the Refuge, I'm sure this evening chorus is nothing spectacular, normal even. To a city-boy like myself, though, it's magical. The bullfrog on the left is over 150 feet away, probably more. How can I be sure? Because my mic cables are 150 feet exactly, and it was further than that. Recording that in the city would be laughable, if not impossible.
*EDIT So it turns out I was far, far off. Those crazy space-monkeys aren't frogs at all. They are a bird called Wilson's Snipe. And that sound? Produced by their TAIL. https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Wilsons_Snipe/sounds ORIGINAL FOLLOWS I can identify, quite readily, the Bullfrogs and Pacific Chorus Frogs... but I'd really appreciate it if someone out there could tell me what the crazy space-monkeys are? I know they're frogs, but that's about as far as my naturalist abilities extend. END EDIT ORIGINAL***
There are a few moments of birds, mostly Coots and ducks trying to sleep nearby. In the distance a dog barks @21 min. Fifteen minutes before this recording the nearby Sandhill Crane flock had a moment of rowdiness. I'll let y'all hear that track later.
This track is straight from the recorder, down-mixed to stereo from Double-MS, boosted +15db (despite the pre-amps already being open all the way), down sampled to 48kHz from 192kHz, and that's it. No filtering, no editing, no other mastering.
Acoustics: Biophony: frogs, frogs, more frogs, Wilson's Snipe, waterfowl (coots? ducks), distant dog, crickets Geophony: trickling water, very light wind in reeds and surrounding distant cottonwoods and Douglas Fir Anthropophony: possible car engines or plane rumble very distant @13 minutes
Temperature: 65°F Relative Humidity: 31% Barometric Pressure: 29.86 in Wind: negligible Skies: Clear
Equipment: Mic configuration: Double-MS (downmixed to stereo) mid-front: MKH8040 mid-rear: MKH8040 side: MKH30 Recorder: Zaxcom Zax-Max
I was out testing a new parabolic reflector dish this morning when I got serenaded by a bullfrog at the Union Bay Nature Area. I knew there were bullfrogs in the PNW, but didn't know I'd find any in Seattle until today. It's a noisy area, with lots of plane and road traffic, so there's a light touch of noise reduction, other than that this is straight off the recorder with a HPF.
An electric arc furnace running a "meltdown" process. Think of it as a giant arc welder. Three giant electrodes, each 8 feet tall and 1 foot across, create a continuous electrical arcing for melting and mixing ingredients used in industrial steel casting. The electrodes never touch the steel themselves, and it's the radiant heat of over 2400° F that melts the ingredients! The furnace itself is 20 feet across and spits out tiny globs of melted steel throughout the process. Because of the danger, I could only come within 30 feet. Even at that distance, it's once of the loudest things I've ever recorded. With pads on both mics and the level on my 702 nearly all the way down, this still peaked around -9 when recording. Thank goodness for hearing protection! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Electric_arc_furnace
recording miscellany: Sound Devices 702 mid/ pressure: MKH8060 side/ gradient: MKH30
recorded at Bradken Foundry in Tacoma, WA Photo courtesy of Elaine Thomas and Bradken Foundry in Tacoma, WA.
My daughter and I did a little cold-weather camping this weekend. I think it's the last time she'll go with me until I promise to bring a heater. We went to the Hoh Rainforest in the Olympic National Park. I've always wanted to see it during the winter. The rainforest transforms form a mystic, lush wonderland to a frozen, but still jaw-droppingly beautiful, frosted museum during the winter. We camped by the Hoh River which is nearing full capacity at this time of the year. It is cold, deep, and turbulent.
recording miscellany: Sound Devices 702 mid/ pressure: MKH8020 side/ gradient: MKH30
The Pacific Tree Frog or Pacific Chorus Frog (Pseudacris regalia)is a keystone species on the much of the West Coast of North America. It is also the state amphibian of the State of Washington. It is tiny but loud, and lives in large raucous communities. One local community here in Seattle is located in the Frog Ponds of Magnusson Park. Go there any spring or summer day near dusk or pre-dawn and you'll hear them singing their little hearts out.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pacific_tree_frog
Recording miscellany: Sound Devices 702 ORTF: Røde nt5 pair
From August 2015, this recording is a small stream crossing the path of a trial heading out to Lake Serene. My daughter and I had gone out early to hike and record. Something about the deep cut, yet very small (barely 6 inches wide) stream determined to make its way through the forest struck us both as lovely.
recording miscellany: Sound Devices 702 mid: MKH8020 side: MKH30
In which I get bored, grab a single, small sample and pretend I'm an avant-garde 1960s electronic music composer.
Listen to as much of "The Piece" as you can stand before listening to "The Source".
errata: speed ramping & volume manipulation.
In which I get bored, grab a single, small sample and pretend I'm an avant-garde 1960s electronic music composer.
Listen to as much of "The Piece" as you can stand before listening to "The Source".
errata: speed ramping & volume manipulation.
One last example. A quick sample frequency-shifted down (-36000 Hz)segment of a bat flying in, switching from "echo-locating" to "echo-distancing", catching & swallowing, and flying off. This takes roughly 4 1/2 seconds. Immediately following is the same exact moment, but instead of frequency shifting, I've slowed the whole thing down 4 octaves. It now takes well over a minute, but the whole action is beautifully played out. When the moments are right, you can hear echoes from the bat's pulse. It's just a marvel of nature.
There's a world of life we can't hear, squeaking away either at volumes so low we can't discern it or so high above our hearing range it might as well be silent. One of the fun things about recording early in the morning is the surprise spikes of bats sitting in the recording. You can't hear them when you're standing there. You can hear them while your recording. But you can see them afterwards. In this little experiment, I've taken a condensed recording with bats it in it and re-mixed it for audibility. The original is here: https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner/pre-dawn-silence-near-beckler-creek
Okay, I lied, I DID pitch shift, as well, and mixed THAT signal back in here to give a little more character to the flying critters overhead than just the staccato buzzing of the frequency-shifted version. The thing is, pitch shifting (and what you're hearing is a 5 octane harmonic shift)causes such smearing that the sense of transient pulses is lost, especially when the bat goes from "locating" to "distancing" as it homes in on prey. The pitch shift gives us a real feel for what's going on: a tiny little screaming predator flying around over us. The frequency shift let's us actually get a sense of what that tiny murder machine is doing. Nature's cool.
original recording errata: Sound Devices 702 mid: MKH8020 side: MKH30
There's a world of life we can't hear, squeaking away either at volumes so low we can't discern it or so high above our hearing range it might as well be silent. One of the fun things about recording early in the morning is the surprise spikes of bats sitting in the recording. You can't hear them when you're standing there. You can't hear them while you're recording. But you can see them afterwards. In this little experiment, I've taken a condensed recording with bats it in it and re-mixed it for audibility. The original is here: https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner/pre-dawn-silence-near-beckler-creek
Here I've mixed the frequency shifted signal back into the original in "03 - BATS Pre - Dawn Frequency Shifted And Mixed". This gives us a good idea of what's going on over head. That's a lot of chatter. My favorite moments are when the regular staccato of the bat's echo-location suddenly drops in pitch but seriously ramps up in pulse-rate. This is followed by a brief silence and a return to the regular staccato. This is when the bat has shifted from "echo-locating" prey to "echo-distancing" prey, the brief pause signifying a successful catch and presumably a swallow.
original recording errata: Sound Devices 702 mid: MKH8020 side: MKH30
There's a world of life we can't hear, squeaking away either at volumes so low we can't discern it or so high above our hearing range it might as well be silent. One of the fun things about recording early in the morning is the surprise spikes of bats sitting in the recording. You can't hear them when you're standing there. You can hear them while your recording. But you can see them afterwards. In this little experiment, I've taken a condensed recording with bats it in it and re-mixed it for audibility. The original is here: https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner/pre-dawn-silence-near-beckler-creek Here I've high-passed out Beckler Creek and used a frequency shifter (not pitch shifter)to bring the the bat vocalizations down in audibility. The total shift? 50,000 Hz! Why frequency shift and not pitch shifting? Pitch shifting smears the signal too much of the drastic about I'd need to bring it down this far. This is equivalent to nearly a five octave shift. Using even the best pitch shifting I could, the really rapid buzzing would turn into just a single "breep". Trust me. I've tried.
original recording errata: Sound Devices 702 mid: MKH8020 side: MKH30
There's a world of life we can't hear, squeaking away either at volumes so low we can't discern it or so high above our hearing range it might as well be silent. One of the fun things about recording early in the morning is the surprise spikes of bats sitting in the recording. You can't hear them when you're standing there. You can hear them while your recording. But you can see them afterwards. In this little experiment, I've taken a condensed recording with bats it in it and re-mixed it for audibility. The original is here: https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner/pre-dawn-silence-near-beckler-creek In the original and in this condensed version you can hear the general background roar of Beckler Creek a few hundred yards away, a slight wind, and maybe a pine needle falling or two.
original recording errata: Sound Devices 702 mid: MKH8020 side: MKH30
Recording pre-dawn forest silence can be deceiving. We think nothing's out there, that nothing's awake. After all, our ears confirm it for us don't they? Little do we know, and little can we tell, but there's a whole world of life up where we can't hear it. In fact, it's a life that' so loud, that our recordings can distort without us even hearing it. The bat vocalizations in this recording, and YES THERE ARE BAT VOCALIZATIONS IN THIS RECORDING, spike nearly 30db above the ambient background. Check out this little re-mix experiment I did over here to illustrate: https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner/sets/bat-mix
Recording Errata: Sound Devices 702 mid: MKH8020 side: MKH30
Biophony: BATS!
Geophony: Beckler Creek, a silent forest in the Mt Baker-Snoqualmie Wilderness
On a road trip with my daughter, we spent a lovely afternoon on Mt St Helens. We each have our quiet-time meditative styles, but it starts the same. We walk out into the middle of a place. She pulls out her pad and pen and starts a landscape of the spot (see some of her work, mostly NON-landscape here: http://sofiaverbena.deviantart.com). I walk ahead a bit and pull out microphones and a recorder.
Normally I try to show sounds as clean as possible, with little to no editing or filtering, kind of like a photograph of a location. What touching-up there is done for length or levels. I try to master for -30 LKFS. If necessary, I might roll off the low-end a touch around 85 Hz.
This piece is a little different. Why? Because I'm a moron. The recording was filled with wind noise. I accidentally left my furry windscreen back in the car. It would have been a 1 hour walk back (2 hours round trip) on a sweltering afternoon. By the time I'd returned it would have been gone. Plus, the daughter was already inking away, and I didn't want to distract her.
So, there's a good deal of clean-up that went into it to get rid of extraneous wind growl. I plan on going back this summer with the specific intent of recording. And this time I'll remember the windscreen.
recording miscellany: Sound Devices 702 mid/ pressure: MKH8020 side/ gradient: MKH30
Biophony: Insect (is that a grasshopper? a katydid?). A bird (I need to brush up on my ID'ing skills)
Anthrophony: Some voices from a family of hikers.
single prop, piston-driven, STOL bush plane https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/De_Havilland_Canada_DHC-2_Beaver
single prop, piston-driven, STOL bush plane https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/De_Havilland_Canada_DHC-2_Beaver
single prop, piston-driven, STOL bush plane https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/De_Havilland_Canada_DHC-2_Beaver
single prop, piston-driven, STOL bush plane https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/De_Havilland_Canada_DHC-2_Beaver
single prop, STOL bush plane https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/De_Havilland_Canada_DHC-3_Otter
Not long ago, on my birthday in November 2015, I was out wandering the Mt Baker-Snoqualmie Wilderness (as one does) and thought, ooooooo..... lots of great places to pull over record some Pure Mountain Air™. Now, it had snowed just a week ago, the first substantial snow in the Cascades since the previous year (2015 wasn't a good year for the Cascades). And it was warming up. Loose gravel mountainsides, scabs, essentially had water seep in and freeze. Now they were melting in the brilliant autumn sun. That meant a) any ambient recordings were going to have a continual white noise background of meltwater in the background, and b) any ambient recordings were going to have a continual parade of tumbling rocks falling off of these now-loosened mountainsides. Unsettling, to say the least. Here's an excerpt (edit: a very long excerpt).
recording miscellany: Sound Devices 702 mid/ pressure: MKH8020 side/ gradient: MKH30
While hiking past Bridal Veil on the way up to Lake Serene with my daughter, we noticed a rock outcropping near the falls that was sheltered from the torrent, yet was dripping and overgrown with moss. It was soft and meditative, yet slightly on-edge with the sound of the falls in the background. We start a little outside the alcove, moving closer in around 2 minutes.
Recording errata: Sound Devices 702 mid: MKH8020 side: MKH30
A Day of Humanity in Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest, or An Ode For AR-15, Power Lines, Nature, and a Plane
Backstory: A sunny morning in the Wild Sky Wilderness of the Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest. My morning ambience recording ended by the encroachment of distant chainsaws, I'd packed up to leave when I stumbled upon power lines tearing through the forest. I stopped to look, only to discover that the power lines make a powerful sizzling sound. I found a nice spot beneath one set of lines and pressed record. Moments later the gunfire begins. As I discovered later, it was three AR-15 owners who'd found a quiet spot. The echoes of the gunfire painted a image of the mountains in my ears. They also reminded me of silence we've lost in our precious few wildernesses. A few more moments went by and plane soared somewhere in the distance, out of sight. Somewhere in the distance a train thrummed it's way through the mountains. Through it all nature persevered, both competing with humanity and continuing on despite it.
Technical notes: All the work I've done here is lop the ends off the recording. The power lines were not causing any interference. THAT'S THE ACTUAL ACOUSTIC SOUND THEY GENERATE.
recording miscellany: Sound Devices 702 mid/ pressure: MKH8020 side/ gradient: MKH30 pad-free, filter free. Recorded in the raw (tm).
Back-and-forth all afternoon. recorder: SD702 mid-side configuration mid: MKH8060 side: MKH30
They really can sneak up on you, going from dull booming to ear-bleed in just a couple seconds. recorder: SD702 mid-side configuration mid: MKH8060 side: MKH30
Back-and-forth all afternoon. recorder: SD702 mid-side configuration mid: MKH8060 side: MKH30
They really can sneak up on you, going from dull booming to ear-bleed in just a couple seconds. recorder: SD702 mid-side configuration mid: MKH8060 side: MKH30
I was situated along the shore of Lake Washington, so I had to make the tough choice of "light crowd chatter" or "gentle wave lapping" in the background. recorder: SD702 mid-side configuration mid: MKH8060 side: MKH30
The Blue Angels practice strafing runs over Lake Washington for two days. During that time the air is filled with screaming jets, continuous booming rumble, and dissipating smoke-oil tracks. recorder: SD702 mid-side configuration mid: MKH8060 side: MKH30
I was situated along the shore of Lake Washington, so I had to make the tough choice of "light crowd chatter" or "gentle wave lapping" in the background. recorder: SD702 mid-side configuration mid: MKH8060 side: MKH30
I was situated along the shore of Lake Washington, so I had to make the tough choice of "light crowd chatter" or "gentle wave lapping" in the background. recorder: SD702 mid-side configuration mid: MKH8060 side: MKH30
The Blue Angels practice strafing runs over Lake Washington for two days. During that time the air is filled with screaming jets, continuous booming rumble, and dissipating smoke-oil tracks. recorder: SD702 mid-side configuration mid: MKH8060 side: MKH30
If you lose track of them in the distance they can really sneak up on you when they return, just as this simultaneous pair did. The stereo field goes all wacky as I twist the boom around. kinda like how it feels, all nice and swimmy. recorder: SD702 mid-side configuration mid: MKH8060 side: MKH30
Back-and-forth all afternoon. recorder: SD702 mid-side configuration mid: MKH8060 side: MKH30
I love pigs, especially smaller pigs. They have a very human vocal range, and they sound like they're constantly in conversation. It's a very strained conversation that THEY'D REALLY WISH YOU'D LISTEN TO THEIR OPINION ON. They're always excited to see you, especially if you have food.
I love pigs, especially smaller pigs. They have a very human vocal range, and they sound like they're constantly in conversation. It's a very strained conversation that THEY'D REALLY WISH YOU'D LISTEN TO THEIR OPINION ON. I love this track so much because it sounds like they've made their point and are resting the case, "harrumph" included.
I love pigs, especially smaller pigs. They have a very human vocal range, and they sound like they're constantly in conversation. It's a very strained conversation that THEY'D REALLY WISH YOU'D LISTEN TO THEIR OPINION ON. This track in particular is meaningful to me as it sounds just like our dog Jack, an Australian Terrier that passed away in 2012 at the age of 14, when he couldn't find his food bowl.
A medium-length tanker train recorded at Carkeek Park, Seattle. The trains here are easily accessible to recording, but their location makes it difficult to get a nice, clean recording with no voices and no birds. You may hear some on this track... I really love the squealing brakes on this train as rounds the bend I'm standing in. Recorded in tight MS. mid: MKH8060 side: MKH30 recorder: SD702
A long freight train recorded in Columbia Hills State Park, Washington, right on the Columbia Gorge. The trains here are frequent, long, running at full speed, and easily accessible to recording. In other, designed for sound recordists! Also: dangerous! This was recorded at a distance of close to 1/4 mile, somewhere around midnight from my tent on a camping trip earlier this year. Yes the trains are frequent here... and as I discovered they don't stoop to sleep. ORTF: Røde nt5 pair recorder: SD702
A long freight train recorded in Columbia Hills State Park, Washington, right on the Columbia Gorge. The trains here are frequent, long, running at full speed, and easily accessible to recording. In other, designed for sound recordists! Also: dangerous! ORTF: Røde nt5 pair recorder: SD702
A long freight train recorded in Columbia Hills State Park, Washington, right on the Columbia Gorge. The trains here are frequent, long, running at full speed, and easily accessible to recording. In other, designed for sound recordists! Also: dangerous! ORTF: Røde nt5 pair recorder: SD702
A long freight train recorded in Columbia Hills State Park, Washington, right on the Columbia Gorge. The trains here are frequent, long, running at full speed, and easily accessible to recording. In other, designed for sound recordists! Also: dangerous! This train was recorded at with a tight mid-side pattern, hoping to get come good clatter. mid: MKH8060 side: MKH30 recorder: SD702
Seattle has an airport in the heart of the city: a water-port for the seaplanes of Kenmore Air. Their fleet consists primarily of DHC-2 Beavers and DHC-3 Turbo-Otters. Turbo-Otters, such as this one, have turbine engines and sound more like jets than the quintessential old-clanky-propeller-plane sound of the Beavers.d SD702 Mid: MKH8060 Side: MKH30
Seattle has an airport in the heart of the city: a water-port for the seaplanes of Kenmore Air. Their fleet consists primarily of DHC-2 Beavers and DHC-3 Turbo-Otters. Beavers, such as this one, have piston-drive engines, and really sell that great old-clanky-propeller-plane sound that is matched only by a fleet of Harley Davidsons. SD702 Mid: MKH8060 Side: MKH30
These are monster planes, used for carrying around 787 Dreamliner parts. This one landed and taxied by at an airport where I watching my daughter take single-prop flight lessons. Fortunately I had my gear handy. SD702 Mid: MKH8060 Side: MKH30
I've been playing around with alternate stereo recordings methods lately. This excerpt is from my first using an omni center Mid-Side setup. No high-pass filtering in record and no post-processing has been done (a rarity for me)except for a gain-boost and trimming down to 2 minutes. Mid: Sennhesier MKH 8020 Side: Sennhesier MKH 30
I spent the day going through some of my old crow recordings. The have just such a wonderfully expressive range, more than just the simple "caw-caw" that everyone thinks they do. Every time I see a movie with a crow or raven that says, "caw-caw, caw-caw-caw" at the same pitch over and over and over, I think it's a wasted opportunity.
Lately I've been trying to record some straight-out natural ambiences from the same location at multiple times-of-day, mostly dawn & dusk choruses. Seattle's a noisy town, full of background roar and cars, so it's nice to find a place within the city that actually sounds like it's got a natural presence.
Many years ago we had finches as pets. I could listen to finch songs all day. It's like sunshine in a little feathered body.
These woodpeckers have a "not in Seattle" quality to them. They make a back yard sound like a jungle. I wish I could get closer, but they pretty choose only the highest spots -- generally the tops of cedar trees -- around to call from.
I hate Red-winged Blackbirds. I mean, I like their calls -- bright beautiful, easy to record, not very afraid of humans with large furry microphones getting too close. But they're ASSHOLES. Whenever I'm out trying to record something else, the final recording is FILLED with Red-winged Blackbirds. It's like they see wildlife recording as some sort of a competition for who can get on the most recordings. Half of my recordings go like this: "Oh look, a pretty humminbi-- CHIRRUP-BURRRRRRRRRR! LOOK AT ME I'M A GoDDAMNED BLACKBIRD!!!"
Song Sparrow, Melospiza melodia, Song, parabolic recording, clean-processed for clarity, natural pace and rhythym maintained, family: New World Sparrows
Some birds seem to have an endless array of verses and lyrics to throw into their songs. This is one of those birds.
Recorded in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Washington, United States
image credit: "892 - SONG SPARROW (9-06) attu, ak (6)" by Sloalan is marked with CC0 1.0
Recorded from my rooftop in Seattle's Fremont Neighborhood. Parties full of whooping-and-hollering folk are on every apartment building in the area. One nearby had some extra fireworks.
SoundDevices 702 m/s: Sennheiser MKH8060 + MKH30 light limiting so I didn't fry my ears
Pulled as an example from a personal collection of high-frequency interference recordings made with a Radioshack Telephone mic (I love those little buggers!) via a Sound Devices 702 and Barcus Barry pre-amp. The original was recorded at 192kHz / 24bit. This example is the source original for https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner/48khz_tone_lamp. The source was a goose-neck lamp at my bedside. Play this for your dog.
Pulled as an example from a personal collection of high-frequency interference recordings made with a Radioshack Telephone mic (I love those little buggers!) via a Sound Devices 702 and Barcus Barry pre-amp. The original was recorded at 192kHz / 24bit. This example was pitched down 4 octaves before being sample rate converted to 48k/16bit. The source was a goose-neck lamp at my bedside. Check out the original non-varispeed version at https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner/48khz-interference
The high wavering tone you hear was originally between 46kHz and 62kHz. Your dog would love it.
TRAIN - diesal - freight - pass-by left to right at med-hi speed - urban beach location - Carkeek Park in Seattle - great squeaks squeals rattles thunka-thunka and more
Marsh Wren - Cistothorus palustris - recorded at Marymoor Park in Redmond, WA 2013-05-02 Takes culled and cleaned from 5 minutes recording. It's the same bird, going crazy, but sometimes he turned his back to me... I love Marsh Wrens. Their songs are clankerous, noisy and and constantly varying. I could listen to them for hours. At 1/2-speed they sound like frightened children from hell and car alarms.