An indulgently lengthy excerpt, but reflective of taking the time, under a searing morning sun, amidst flies, to sit still and listen to the intimate psychophysical presence of these very curious yet nervously cautious calves, as they approached nearer and nearer. In particular, the sounds of their breath. Wondering about their existence, and their destiny.

2022.03.13 Calves. Morning. Coorong. Early Autumn.

I've been recording throughout Deep Creek National Park (formerly Conservation Park) for several years, and throughout all seasons. This recent recording was different from any other I've made here. It was dominated mainly by Australian Ravens and Magpies, although a few other birds make an appearance, such as what I believe was an energetic little Brown Thornbill in the foreground, at one point. In other recordings made during the same morning at other nearby locations, Grey Shrike-thrushes and White-throated Treecreepers, amongst others, could be heard.

What I like most about this recording is the recurring, distant, beautiful, wistful call of a Magpie somewhere much farther up the valley: its song is sometimes occluded by the nearer Ravens and Magpies; and sometimes, in more quiet intervals, its song reverberates gently, quietly, and elegantly down the valley.

Can be listened to with speakers or headphones; but quality open-backed headphones are especially recommended.

Unprocessed and unedited recording (96/24 WAV > 48/24 FLAC).

Recorded on land of the Kaurna and Ngarrindjeri people that is now a National Park.

2022.05.08 Coastal Eucalypt Forest. Dawn. Deep Creek. Late Autumn.

August 14, 2022...    forest soundscape at ~ 5 am.   Quiet, still, calm, little wind, dominated by insect sounds typical of this time of year.  Recorder & mics located on the edge of a still pool in Brown Creek, not flowing this time of year due to lack of rain in late summer here.  There actually is a very slight flow of water, which can be heard thoughout the recording.   Photo shows site of recording.  Near the beginning of the recording there are calls of an eastern screech owl.  Later, a few frogs chime in.   This night was relatively cool for August (temps in the high 60°F range).  

In the forest here, this is the the quietest time of the night, 1-2 hours before dawn.  After dawn, the cicadas will start, the wind will pick up and it won't be quiet again until late afternoon.  As night falls, the evening summer soundscape here is dominated by (very loud) katydids, crickets, other insects and sometimes frogs/toads, for hours...   continuing through most of the night until early morning quiet time. 

Recorded with Earsight mics about 50-60 cm apart into a Zoom F3 recorder.  Low frequencies were attenuated and volume was adjusted.  

Headphones recommended (as always).

Arkansas forest in late summer ~ 5 am August 14, 2022

Grabación de Campo por @mapasonoroap
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Descripción:
“Era una fría mañana de Junio, me encuentro en el parque del centenario, un parque urbano en el plano de Arica, realizando grabaciones de campo para el proyecto “Mapa Sonoro de Arica y Parinacota”, en ese horario se pueden escuchar diversas especies, como Chincoles (Zonotrichia capensis), Picaflores del Norte (rhodopis vesper), Águilas (Generanoaetus melanolecus),  Cernícalos (Falco tinnunculus), Paloma común (Columba livia), Tórtolas Quiguagua (columbina cruziana), entre otras especies. por suerte la costanera que bordea el parque tenía muy poco movimiento y todavía no llegaban las familias, ya que era un domingo de día. Así  que arme el equipo y puse a grabar al micrófono zoom H3vr que realiza grabaciones ambisonic (esfera 360°) y en ese lapso de tiempo de grabación , volaban alrededor entre el follaje de los árboles una colonia de tórtolas.
En la grabación se pueden escuchar tres tipos de vocalizaciones, llamados generales, llamado de atención y vocalización de enfrentamiento entre machos. La vocalización de las tórtolas es muy interesante ya que las personas que no conocen la especie creen que es una “pequeña rana croando”. Mientras grabo el audio solo me queda sentarme, respirar hondo y disfrutar del ambiente."

Equipos: 
Micrófono ambisonic zoom H3vr
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Localidad: Parque del centenario, Región Arica y Parinacota, Ciudad Arica  - Chile 
Fecha: Junio del 2021
Hora: Desde las 9:00 am a 10:00 am (GMT-3)
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Bio: 
Gato del Desierto (gdsf.cl) (Arica, Chile), Manuel M. Figueroa (Gato del Desierto), nacido en la ciudad de Arica, desde muy pequeño gracias a su madre, comienza por el amor a las Artes, las tradiciones y la conservación. Fue fotógrafo de danza y arte, con exposiciones en Chile y Perú. Comienza en el área de sonido el 2016, y el 2020 crea el proyecto de Mapa Sonoro, el año 2021 participa en las transmisiones de Tsonami Radio (Chile), en el 2022 participa en el Festival Sur Aural (Bolivia) y Festival Asimtria (Perú). Actualmente sigue con nuevas fases del mapa sonoro y comienza como investigador sonoro.
 
Links: 
Proyecto Fonografico Mapasonoroap  ist’aña suyu https://gdsf.cl
Instagram: @mapasonoroap @gato_desierto.cl
SoundCloud: @mapasonoroap

Compilación de Vocalizaciones de Tortolita Quiguagua - Gato del Desierto

Recorded 17th May 2022
Aragon, Spain

My alarm was set for 5am local time, about 45 minutes before the dawn chorus had been starting up on recent mornings in the hills. But I hadn't taken account of the full moon. Beware the power of the moon in a clear sky. When I switched on the recorder a few minutes later, this was what I heard: the larks all in full swing. 

There are Calandra Larks, Lesser Short-toed Larks and the incomparable Dupont's Lark here.

before dawn on the Ebro steppe

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!

Northwest Soundscapes

Queets River Valley Rainforest Dawn with Roosevelt Elk

A track produced for Naviar Records Haiku Challenge; one week to write and record a track in response to the haiku posted.
'Lazing in shadows
conceding the drawing room
to moonrays'

Lazing In Shadows (naviarhaiku504) - Adrian Lane

The Red Deer Rut (Brame du Cerf) recorded in the heart of the  the Orleans Forest, the largest Forest in France. 

Zoom F3 + 2 x Sennheiser MKH8020s
23.09.2023

Red Deer Rut - Forêt d'Orleans, France

Recorded respectfully on the land of the Nuennone people.

The Superb Lyrebird (Menura novaehollandiae victoriae) is not native to Tasmania: it was deliberately introduced there - by an ornithology group. Between 1934 and 1949, 22 Superb Lyrebirds were released at Mt Field National Park in the mid south and at Hastings in the far south. The Lyrebirds flourished, and continue to spread widely. Today, experts estimate that their population must be well over 10,000, if not even higher. The Superb Lyrebird has basically 'gone feral'.  And it's known to be having some negative impacts on forest ecosystems. However, one thing that I haven't yet seen discussed or studied is what negative acoustic-ecological impacts Lyrebirds might be having upon native and especially endemic Tasmanian bird species. Some forest soundscapes are being overwhelmed by multiple Lyrebirds, spread through the forest, simultaneously performing intricate, complex and well-projected mimicry for very long periods of time. Fascinating as this is, it's very hard to believe that the native and endemic bird species can communicate naturally and effectively, as they need to do, when such mayhem is going on.

2023.09.23 Superb Lyrebird Being Itself. Dawn. Huon Valley. Early Spring.

From album Jaro /Spring/ Bandcamp 2023
https://tomassenkyrik.bandcamp.com/album/jaro

Notes to this recording:
Last April, I went to a floodplain forest in southern Moravia to capture a bombina bombina at one of the wetlands. No sooner had I settled down on the shore than the bombina bombina starts to call. My son fell asleep in his bicycle seat, it was beautifully quiet, no wind, no people, so ideal conditions. I quickly connected the equipment and started recording. After pressing the record button, I heard a small sport plane approaching me in my headphones. It circled over the wetland and then over the floodplain forest continuously for twenty minutes, yes really twenty minutes. It alternately receded and approached. I cursed quietly and preferably away from the microphones, so luckily my comments are not heard on the recording. The next day I downloaded the recording to my computer and was determined to delete it. But I listened to the recording. Something happened that I didn't expect. From the first seconds, the picture seemed to me as a compositional unit. The hum of the aircraft engine entered the recording with gradually increasing volume and began to create a harmony in the lower frequency band to the call of the bombina bombina. Since then, I listen to nature sounds and the sound environment differently. During the recording session, I took a photo of the location and my son sleeping on the bike. I decided to use it as the cover image for the whole album Jaro because it reminds me of the day I started listening a little "different"

Bombina bombina and a small sport plane

This work is intended as a meditative companion-piece to an earlier work, https://soundcloud.com/hearingbeings/20211024-night-music-spring, and follows a similar structure. However, it was recorded in an entirely different location (thirty-six kilometres away).

In this piece, the auditory journey of approach towards the distant source has more intervals, and is more gradual, than in the earlier work. Listening to what may be heard along the way is as important as arrival. On this occasion, there is only one Eastern Banjo Frog in the midst of a plenitude of Spotted Marsh Frogs, along with some Brown Tree Frogs and Common Eastern Froglets.

Other than balancing gain levels, the sequence of recordings constituting this work (made during one night at one location) has not been filtered or processed in any way (with the exception only of the final two minutes).

Fixing the volume from the outset to a fairly low level, e.g., around 40 per cent, and certainly not more than 50 per cent, is recommended. What is distant and quiet will gradually become nearer and louder.

Recorded on the land of the Peramangk people.

The track image is a modification of an original photo of an Eastern Banjo Fog (Limnodynastes dumerlii) taken by by Fir0002/Flagstaffotos and made available under a CC BY-NC licence.

@Bandcamp

2023.12.23 Night Dreaming. One Final Banjo Frog. Early Summer.

𝔈𝔵𝔭𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔩𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔯, 𝔞𝔰 𝔞𝔫 𝔈𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔞 𝔐𝔬𝔡𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞 𝔇𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔅𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤.

2023.09.23 Superb Lyrebird Being Itself. Dawn. Huon Valley. Early Spring.

𝕳𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕭𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘

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