This playlist (album) contains recordings made before, during, and after dawn within Deep Creek Conservation Park, South Australia.

On the one hand, it is intended to comprise a (somewhat inevitably sporadic) 'scientific' seasonal and  longitudinal soundfield documentation of soundscapes in various locations within this Conservation Park, before, during, and after the period of dawn.

On the other hand, it is also the record of a very personal, internal, natural-spiritual inquiry, exploration, and quest. My first profound experience of this very special place occurred during Easter in 1984. Later, in the winter of that year, my first child was conceived here. Since then, this place has always held a very deep life and spiritual significance for me. I have returned to visit it very many times, over many years, before I finally began to record its voice.

You can listen deeply to these recordings, then, in - at the very least - two very different ways (or, preferably, in both ways, simultaneously).

This playlist is an ongoing work in progress: more recordings will continue to be added.

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

Dawns of Deep Creek: A Seasonal Study

Three to four kilometres from the wave-lashed cliff-edged coast, and about 250 metres above sea level, after several days of heavy rain, in a part of Deep Creek I have not recorded in before; as everywhere, here, and at all times, the sound of the ocean pervades this subdued, widely dispersed, yet peaceful and healing winter dawn.

Related tracks: https://soundcloud.com/hearingbeings/20210829-deep-creek-dawn-late-winter. (For the later recording, I positioned myself in the location whence, in this earlier recording, magpies can be heard singing in the far distance.)

2021.07.04 A Subdued Dawn. Winter. Deep Creek.

From 04:51 to 07:13 (from before first light till after sunrise). Unedited recording. At the boundary between native coastal eucalypt forest Conservation Park and pastoral land; and the boundary between night and day. Heavy rain throughout the day and night; sky cleared completely after midnight, just before recording began. Temperature fell below dew point; much condensation and some frost. Windy to begin with, very gradually subsiding towards dawn.

Listening with good quality headphones is recommended.

96/32 WAV > 48/24 FLAC. MKH 8020s in AB with 113 cm spacing into MixPre-6 II. Low cut filter at 120 Hz (6 dB/octave) in post.

Related tracks:
https://soundcloud.com/hearingbeings/20210704-a-subdued-dawn-winter-deep-creek (In this earlier recording, magpies can be heard singing in the far distance. For the later recording, I positioned myself in the location whence I'd heard the magpies singing during the earlier recording. Although the weather conditions were different (especially wind-wise and therefore sound-wise), even so, I wasn't disappointed.)
https://soundcloud.com/hearingbeings/20200831-pine-forest-winterspring-midnight-magpies.

2021.08.29 Deep Creek Dawn. Late Winter.

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.

Unedited and unprocessed original recording.
Recorded on land of the Kaurna and Ngarrindjeri peoples.

2021.10.31 Dawn at Tapanappa Creek. Spring.

A windy, rainy, stormy dawn at Tapanappa, Deep Creek.
Unprocessed recording (except for limiter set to -0.5 dB, engaged once).
Good quality headphones recommended.
Recorded on the land of the Ngarrindjeri and Kaurna peoples.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At first, I wasn't going to post this recording, mainly for one reason: it has what many listeners would perceive as an unpleasant flaw, which spoils the particular kind of aesthetic satisfaction that most listeners of nature recordings want and enjoy. The flaw is the sound of strong wind to the far left of the stereo sound field. This wind noise does occasionally rise and subside, but it is present for much of the recording. And if the listener is listening through headphones, then that sound is present in just their left ear for much of the recording, and that can be a quite uncomfortable (indeed, even a quite physically uncomfortable) experience. For that reason, I was not going to post the recording.

Coincidentally, however, I happened to read a recent blog article by Lang Elliott (https://musicofnature.com/celestial-music/). I don't want to compare this recording with Lang's, they are entirely different kinds of soundscapes, but I found his conclusion astute: "By denying the wind as a supportive actor in the soundscape, I rejected the concert as Mother Earth produced it, on that special morning in that special place. How imperceptive of me, and how demeaning to [the] natural world! The original recording embodies the most accurate living representation of the flow of sound during that particular passage of time. So who am I to think it is somehow defective..."

The wind in Lang's recording is not as intense as in this one, and it is not concentrated to one side, as in this one. Nevertheless, it is true that this is how things sounded at this location at this time. If I could repeat the experience, I would choose a different spot from which to record, much farther away from the source of the wind sound: a stand of large old non-native pine trees originally planted as a (quite ineffective) wind break. The sounding out of the pine trees certainly indicates the force of the wind very well, but, with headphones, it's something of a challenge to one's left ear. The microphones, on the other hand, were very well sheltered from that wild wind by native grass trees, which are excellent wind breaks.

Lang's article motivated me to listen to my own rejected recent recording more openly. By now, I've listened to it, all the way through, several times, as a kind of meditation practice. And I do now hear it, and relate to it, quite differently, and much more deeply, than at first. Almost all of my recordings are a kind of natural meditation practice, and I realised that this one is not an exception. The nature of the meditation experience that this recording gives me is different to other recordings, but it now makes a lot more sense to me and has a much clearer and deeper meaning for me. Of course, I don't and can't expect others to understand or experience this; it's essentially personal and subjective. So, perhaps I might present a shorter version, with as much of the wind sound edited out as possible, for the ears of others. Or just try again, one stormy dawn, from another spot at this special place.

2023.06.25 Winter Dawn Soundscape at Deep Creek.

The Bureau of Meteorology had forecast a very calm night and morning for Deep Creek. They are usually fairly accurate; but even while still a few kilometres away, on the way there, it was quite obvious that BOM had got it rather wrong. Never mind. The fact is that this southern coastal region is far more often wild and windy than it is calm and still. Strong winds and ocean roar: this is just how it was. It's remarkable that the birds can make themselves heard, but they do. And there were many of them: many species, and many individuals. This recording certainly won't be everyone's cup of tea. But for the natural record, it is as it is. And that is how I love it.

An unattended recording. Good quality headphones (preferably open-backed) are recommended.

Recorded on the land of the Ngarrindjeri peoples.

2023.07.15 A Mid-Winter Dawn Near Boat Harbour Beach

Dawns of Deep Creek: A Seasonal Study. Recording 1.

Recorded in Deep Creek Conservation Park, Fleurieu Peninsula, South Australia.  The recording begins with 'Civil Twilight' (at 5:25 am), and continues after sunrise (at 5:55 am). Prominent in this recording is the calling-and-answering of Grey Shrike-thrushes.  Recorded with a pair of MKH 8020s in AB array with 36 cm spacing into a Sound Devices MixPre-3. (Best listened to with good quality headphones with a flat frequency response.)

2018.12.12 First Light and Sunrise at Deep Creek: Early Summer

Dawns of Deep Creek: A Seasonal Study. Recording 2.

This unedited recording has been uploaded to the Playlist collections https://soundcloud.com/hearingbeings/sets/dawns-of-deep-creek-a-seasonal-study and https://soundcloud.com/hearingbeings/sets/deep-creek-conservation-park-soundscape-perspectives for the purposes of nature documentation and future comparative referencing; as well as for its own inherent natural aesthetic and meditative value.

Recorded on Sunday 28 July in Deep Creek Conservation Park, South Australia. The recording commences at 05:57 (with a crescent honeyeater calling in the foreground) and ends at 08:14 (ACST).

The following moon and sun data for the location assume ideal horizon and clear weather, neither of which were the case: it was fairly cloudy and, given the location just below the crest of one side of a valley, the ocean horizon to the north-east was not visible because of the intervening hill on the far side of the valley. But the deep rumbling and roaring of the ocean, and the occasional crashing of large waves, can be heard emanating from both the far left and the far right, travelling inwards from both ends of the valley.

Moonrise 03:10. Moon phase between Third Quarter and New Moon (four days before New Moon). Fraction of moon illuminated 0.25. Nautical Twilight 06:18. Sunrise 07:17. (Bird activity in this valley began much earlier than I had expected. I believe that this was in response to the moonlight that preceded the solar twilight. I was on my way to my intended dawn recording location from my previous recording location (cf. https://soundcloud.com/hearingbeings/20190728-deep-creek-the-healing-emptiness-between-the-worlds) when the birds began calling, so I stopped where I was, set up, and began recording. And I'm grateful for the result that nature forced on me. It's very peaceful, like deep, gentle breathing ... until, inevitably, the first human machine noises of the day finally pass through ... but the morning continues.)

Weather data from the local weather station at Parawa : Minimum overnight temperature 7.2° C. Wind direction and speed at 09:00: NE 6 km/h. Relative humidity at 09:00: 73%.

(Please note that the location and topography of this recording are quite different from those in https://soundcloud.com/hearingbeings/20181212-first-light-and-sunrise-at-deep-creek-early-summer. Exact location details for all recordings in this collection will be provided at a later time, when the project is closed.)

Recorded with a pair of MKH 8020s in an AB arrangement with 50 cm spacing into a MixPre-6. (Best listened to with good quality headphones with a flat frequency response.)

2019.07.28 From Before First Light to After Sunrise at Deep Creek: Mid-Winter

Dawns of Deep Creek: A Seasonal Study. Recording 3.

This recording has been uploaded to the Playlist collections https://soundcloud.com/hearingbeings/sets/dawns-of-deep-creek-a-seasonal-study and https://soundcloud.com/hearingbeings/sets/deep-creek-conservation-park-soundscape-perspectives for the purposes of nature documentation and future comparative referencing, as well as for its own inherent natural aesthetic and meditative value.

Recorded in Deep Creek Conservation Park, South Australia. The original complete recording begins at 03:47 and ends at 07:35; the version uploaded here omits the first 51 minutes, beginning at 04:38 (but it is otherwise unedited). By this time, the earliest diurnal bird calls are quite distinctly audible(mainly Crescent Honeyeaters); but nocturnal Boobook Owls can still also be heard. In fact, however, the diurnal birds had begun calling at least half an hour earlier, soon after moonrise, although their calls were much fainter, and difficult to discern behind the crooning of the frogs.

The location and topography of the recording, as well as its lifeworld content and soundscape texture, are again quite different from both https://soundcloud.com/hearingbeings/20190728-from-before-first-light-to-after-sunrise-at-deep-creek-mid-winter and https://soundcloud.com/hearingbeings/20181212-first-light-and-sunrise-at-deep-creek-early-summer. But some of the astronomical conditions were similar to those of the former recording.

In particular, moonrise (for ideal horizon and meteorological conditions) was at 03:40. The moon phase was three days before New Moon (similarly in the previous recording); the fraction of the moon illuminated was 0.24 (at the time of the previous recording it was 0.25). On this occasion, the sky was clear. Once again, the appearance of the crescent moon above the hill and tree line (at around 04:13) induced a very early 'First Light' response in the birds. Actual Nautical Twilight (for ideal horizon and meteorological conditions) was at 05:08; and sunrise at 06:03.

Weather conditions were very calm, and the temperature remained at or below dew point throughout the night. Hence, lots of condensation on the foliage of the trees and bushes, which is the source of the constant sound of water drops striking plant leaves and the ground; and occasionally also the microphone tripod, stereo bar, and windshields.

The location is in a creek valley approximately one kilometre inland from the coastline, so the roar of the ocean can be heard throughout the recording (mainly in the distance to the left), though it waxes and wanes in intensity. The trickling of the nearby creek flowing down the valley can also be heard (to the right).  (This particular little creek is known as Tapanappa Creek. There are quite a few creeks flowing down to sea within Deep Creek Conservation Park, including the eponymous Deep Creek itself.)

Some of the bird species heard in the recording: Crescent Honeyeater, Boobook Owl, Grey Shrikethrush, Grey Currawong, Red Wattlebird, Yellow-Tailed Black Cockatoo, White-throated Treecreeper, Common Bronzewing, Australian Magpie, Australian Raven, Honeyeaters of several kinds, possibly Thornbills. The names of others will be added, here, as they are identified by the recordist.

Recorded with a pair of MKH 8020 microphones in AB array with 60 cm spacing into a MixPre-6. (Best listened to with good quality headphones with a flat frequency response. It's also best not to set the volume level too high, as some of the sudden close bird calls (e.g., of Currawongs, etc.) can be loud and piercing.)

2019.09.25 From Before First Light to After Sunrise at Deep Creek: Early Spring

Dawns of Deep Creek: A Seasonal Study. Recording 4.

Period of original recording: from 02:55 to 06:56 (ACDT).

The first two hours have been condensed into the first twelve-and-a-half minutes of this recording, which give a good impression of what the first two hours were like: very still and quiet.  In fact, most of that two hours is just like the first one-and-a-half minutes of this recording: gentle wind and distant ocean, with a few quiet rustles, twig-cracks, and other odder noises, of little creatures moving warily in the dark.

The second two hours have been elided into the remaining one-and-three-quarter hours of this recording. This more active First Light movement begins quietly, gently, and very gradually, with the first faint calls of Grey Fantails (12:32), preceded only by a very faint magpie call. Soon, Golden Whistlers and Grey Shrike-thrushes join in, and the dawn chorus develops, including a long lyrical solo from a Blackbird.  After a sudden intense burst of sun-warmed insect activity has dissipated, Grey Shrike-thrushes and Golden Whistlers weave a peaceful valley soundscape background fabric for the intermittent or occasional voices and sounds of other species inhabiting the valley.

The location is the same valley where Recording 1 was made (https://soundcloud.com/hearingbeings/20181212-first-light-and-sunrise-at-deep-creek-early-summer), but on the opposite side of the valley. The deep, low rumble is the ocean against the rocky coastline (about one kilometre away).

Nautical twilight: 04:53 (ACDT).
Sunrise: 05:57 (ACDT).

Observations from Parawa weather station (located 16 kms away and farther inland to the NE of the recording location) for the period of recording: Wind direction varying from  S/ESE/E/ENE/NE, wind speeds varying between 6 to 13 km/h, with gusts varying between 6 to 19 km/h. Relative humidity varying between 90% to 95%.

Recorded with a pair of MKH 8020s in AB array with 60 cm spacing into a MixPre-6-II. (Best listened to with good quality headphones with a flat frequency response.)

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

2019.11.24 From Before First Light to After Sunrise at Deep Creek: Late Spring/Early Summer

For this 'Dawns of Deep Creek' recording, I returned to the location of my very first dawn recording at Deep Creek, made in December 2018. (You can hear it here: https://soundcloud.com/hearingbeings/20181212-first-light-and-sunrise-at-deep-creek-early-summer. You can also hear another recording, made at the same time of year, but in a different location, the following year, in November 2019, here: https://soundcloud.com/hearingbeings/20191124-from-before-first-light-to-after-sunrise-at-deep-creek-late-spring-early-summer.)

The first time, the dawn chorus was already happening by the time I began recording. This time, I was in place, set up, and recording, hours before nautical twilight. I've condensed the first 1  hour and 14 minutes of the original recording into the first 7 minutes and 12 seconds of this version. Those first 7 minutes and 12 seconds comprise, in the main, the voices of Owlet Nightjars and microbats. (And the variable wind, touching the forest trees along the crests of the valley.) Beyond 7 minutes and 12 seconds, the recording runs in uninterrupted 'real time'.

With nautical twilight, the first dawn birds, in order of appearance, are: Grey Fantails, Australian Magpies (distant), Fantailed Cuckoos. After a while, European Blackbirds make a significant contribution; and at around the same time, the plentiful native Grey Shrike-thrushes become vocal, with their fascinating, intricate, always-shifting, call-and-answer repertoire, underpinned by the meditative, mantra-like calls of Common Bronzewings. As the light increases, the wandering Wrens become acutely vocal. And so the dawn progresses, through variegated phases...

During the period of this recording, the inland weather station at Parawa recorded the following data: wind speeds ranging between 2 and 22 km/h, with wind gusts ranging between 9 and 41 km/h, and wind directions ranging between ENE and ESE. Temperatures varied between 14.5° C and 19.4° C. Relative humidity varied between 54% and 97%. Note, though, that the Parawa weather station is about 10 kms inland from the coast, whereas the sound recording location was only about 1 km inland from the coast.

(Headphones necessary: binaural recording.)

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

2020.11.28 From Before First Light to After Sunrise at Deep Creek: Late Spring/Early Summer

__________________________________________________
Exploring hearing, the hearable, and the hearer, as an event, a mode, and a dimension of Βeing (τὸ εἶναι).

Dawns of Deep Creek: A Seasonal Study

Hearing Beings