I hope to head up there around July 5th.  I spent last weekend in the Sinlahekin, what great sounds.  thanks.

Listen carefully for the distant "Quick! THREE-beers!" of the Olive-Sided Flycatcher, Contopus cooperi

A  Mallard Duck, Anas platyrhynchos, reminds us that this is a wetland

Sunrise, 05:15, brings the end of the Dawn period

The brightening brings increased Chipmunk activity

Daylight doesn't just mean more songbirds. Waterfowl take advantage for increased foraging.

Tree Swallows, Tachycineta bicolor, trying to be heard around the Sparrows

Song Sparrows have enough song variations that unless you recognize them all it can be easy to think there are many Sparrow species present. In this scene, however, we only have Song Sparrows and Lincoln's Sparrows. I don't know them all, so I myself am frequently confused until I return home for confirmation. This one sparrow here goes through at lest five variations over the next ten minutes. Can you hear them all?

This really is incrediable. Pristine quiet, over 2 hours in length and super helpful comments. Thank you so much for sharing this

A collection of Dawn and Dusk Choruses from the Okanogan region of Washington State.

Okanogan Joy

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!

Northwest Soundscapes

Loomis NRCA Long Dawn

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.

2021 - 06 - 21 ThirtymileMeadows Across The Dawn

Boson Spin / P a b l o - Aphica (arrhythmia mix)

Kacie Day:  iscream

Inspired by the Youtube video of Magnapinna (Big fin squid) filmed in the Gulf of Mexico.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=To2_Gq14UVs

Created using
4ms Spherical Wavetable Navigator  Oscillator
MakeNoise Wogglebug
MakeNoise Mimeophone
ALM Pamela's New Workout
DivKid 0chd

Image taken from National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration  "Windows on the deep 2021" project https://oceanexplorer.noaa.gov/okeanos/explorations/ex2107/media-resources/bigfin-squid.html

Magnapinna

Stravati 2. Late night Session at the center.

Early morning. I went to see if it would be possible to record moor frogs in a place where I know they are. I didn't see any frogs, but I did meet a capercaillie. I tied the microphones to a tree and left to record. The picture shows the same bird that appears in the recording.

Equipment:
Zoom F3 digital recorder
An Azden microphone pre-amplifier/mixer
Primo Microphones with EM172 capsules. Recorded 32 bit 48kHz

Western capercaillie makes vocalizations in early spring forest

El conjunto del canto de ranas del Zarzal o trepadoras (Hypsiboas pulchellus) genera una obra sonora natural, acompañada de grillos y el sonido del mar. En su etapa de reproducción su llamado es muy sonoro, metálico y musical, producido por la rápida vibración de las cuerdas vocales que se amplifican por el saco vocal.

//ENG The singing of the Zarzal frogs or climbers (Hypsiboas pulchellus) generates a natural sound work, accompanied by crickets and the sound of the sea. In its reproduction stage, its call is very loud, metallic and musical, produced by the rapid vibration of the vocal cords that are amplified by the vocal sac.

— Grabación de campo realizada en un charcal a orillas de la  Playa Bello Horizonte, Costa Azul, Uruguay  05-04-2023 02:00 AM
///
Autor: @damian-alferez
Equipos: Grabadora Portátil ZOOM
Localidad: Playa Bello Horizonte, Costa Azul - Uruguay
Fecha: 5 de Abril del 2023
Hora: 02:00 AM (UTC-3)

Concierto de Ranas del Zarzal - Damián Alférez (AR)

Original Track by :
https://soundcloud.com/r3000/tilt

R3000 -Tilt (Senglar Ti RMX)

Voici un des sons surprenants que j’ai pu enregistrer au cours du voyage en Patagonie en novembre 2023 avec Fernand Deroussen. 
Attention à utiliser un dispositif d'écoute permettant de bien restituer les sons graves !

En arrivant dans la vallée de Chingue, au sud-est de El Calafate, nous avions l’impression qu’il y avait des travaux dans un chalet, comme des coups de marteau. 
Alors que je cherchais à enregistrer un oiseau, j’ai pu entendre distinctement un son sourd, répétitif à quelques mètres de moi et ce son provenait du sol ! Il y avait des trous dans le sol, caractéristiques d’un micromammifère. En croisant plusieurs sources d’informations, j’ai alors pu déterminer qu’il s’agissait du Tuco tuco de Magellan (Ctenomys magellanicus). 

Déjà, Charles Robert Darwin dans son récit du voyage du Beagle entre 1826 et 1836 écrivait à propos de cette espèce : « Au R. Negro, dans le nord de la Patagonie, il y a un animal qui a les mêmes habitudes et probablement des espèces très proches, mais que je n'ai jamais vu. Son bruit est différent de celui de l'espèce Maldonado [Ctenomys brasiliensis] ; il n'est répété que deux fois au lieu de trois ou quatre, et il est plus distinct et plus sonore : lorsqu'on l'entend de loin, il ressemble tellement au bruit que l'on fait en coupant un petit arbre avec une hache, que j'ai parfois eu des doutes à son sujet » (Jaksic 2023).

Le capitaine du Beagle, Robert Fitz-Roy, rapporte que "ce nom indien [tucu-tucu], prononcé de manière gutturale, exprime le curieux son produit par ces créatures lorsqu'elles sont sous terre,  un bruit qui ressemble un peu au coup d'un marteau éloigné » (Jaksic 2023).  Le son peut être entendu à au moins 10-15 mètres du terrier (Francescoli 1999).
Les Ctenomys sont des rongeurs vivant dans le sol. Soixante-neuf espèces ont été décrites, toutes présentent en Amérique du Sud (Zache et al. 2021). 
Malheureusement, le répertoire acoustique de ces espèces a été peu étudié. La plupart des données ont été obtenues en laboratoire et les rares études sur des espèces dans leur milieu naturel ne portent que sur les sons audibles en dehors des galeries souterraines. Les vocalisations des Ctenomys n’ont été étudiées que chez trois espèces. Ces espèces peuvent aussi produire des sons non vocaux produits par des vibrations de leur corps ou des claquements de dents (Zache et al. 2021). 
Dans cet enregistrement, il s’agit d’une émission vocale, de type séquentiel. L’animal ouvre la bouche, lève la tête et contracte son corps pour produire les sons (Francescoli 1999). Dans une étude sur deux autres espèces de Ctenomys, Zaché et son équipe ont pu mettre en évidence 5 types de vocalisation différents (Zache et al. 2021). 
Il est probable qu'il s'agisse ici d'un cri d'alarme en présence d'intrus. Mais sachant que les vocalisations de cette espèce n’ont pas fait l’objet d’études à ce jour, il est difficile d’en connaître réellement la signification (Jaksic, comm. pers 2023).

Cette espèce n'est pas menacée (LC (Llobet et al. 2023)). 

Bibliographie :
FRANCESCOLI, Gabriel, 1999. A preliminary report on the acoustic communication in Uruguayan Ctenomys (Rodentia, Octodontidae): basic sounds types. Bioacoustics-the International Journal of Animal Sound and Its Recording - BIOACOUSTICS. 1 janvier 1999. Vol. 10, pp. 203‑218. 
JAKSIC, Fabian, 2023. Historical and current knowledge of the Magellanic tuco-tuco Ctenomys magellanicus in Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego, South America. Revista Chilena de Historia Natural. 11 septembre 2023. Vol. 96. 
LLOBET, Toni, VELIKOV, Ilian, SOGORB, Lluís, PEACOCK, Faansie, JUTGLAR, Francesc, MASCARELL, Àlex et MARTÍ & JES, Blanca, 2023. All the Mammals of the World. Barcelona : Lynx Edicions. ISBN 978-84-16728-66-4. 
ZACHE, Keila, SILVEIRA, Lucas, FRANCESCOLI, Gabriel et FREITAS, Thales, 2021. Description of the sound diversity of two species of tuco-tucos ( Ctenomys torquatus and Ctenomys lami ) in natural environment. 
Photo cc by Sebastián Saiter V

Ctenomys magellanicus - Tuco Tuco De Magellan

Cortèges
for singer/dancer, large orchestra and electronics
(binaural recording, please use Headphones)

Voice : François Chaignaud
Conductor : Alain Altinoglu
Orchestre de Paris

Composition : Sasha J. Blondeau
Livret : Hélène Giannecchini

Recording : 06/09/2023, Philharmonie de Paris, Salle Boulez.
Sound recording : Radio France / Ircam
Mixing : Luca Bagnoli & Sasha J. Blondeau
Score publisher : Durand - Universal France

Coproduction Philharmonie de Paris, Ircam-Centre Pompidou
Dans le cadre de Manifeste-2023, Festival de l'Ircam
Avec le soutien de la Villa San Francisco, de la French American Cultural Society, de la Fondation Royaumont et de la SACEM

Cortèges

Cortèges - voice, large orchestra & electronics (binaural)

In the stillness of a Swedish forest, a solitary Mistle Thrush sings its melancholic tune. This recording captures the essence of the forest, a place where time seems to stand still and the beauty of nature can be fully appreciated.

Recorded 14.04.2023
Zoom F3 + Sennheiser MKH8020

Image courtesy of Birds of Gilgit-Baltistan (Creative Commons)

Mistle Thrush - Öjesjöbrännan Ekopark, Västerfärnebo, Sweden

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.

Long Swamp, Dawn, 2019-07-17

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.

Sinlahekin Tree Ears, 2020-07-02

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.

Sinlahekin Dawn Chorus, 2020-07-01

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

Long Swamp Dawn Chorus, 2020-06-30

Field Recordist / Sound designer
Shhhhh. Listening to nature.

To license sounds or for all other inquiries: info@andymartinsound.com

#naturesound #naturesoundscape #fieldrecording #naturesounds #savequiet #listentonature #soundscape

Long Swamp, Dawn, 2019-07-17

Andy Martin, Field Recordist

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Sounds from the Wild Country

Jared Blake

Andy Martin, Field Recordist

Andy Martin, Field Recordist

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