Misc. Soundscapes | The Music of Nature

Grey Butcherbird Duets

by Lang Elliott · November 6, 2012 · 18 Comments

During my last morning of recording in Australia, I managed to snag a real jewel … the musical song-duetting of a pair of Grey Butcherbirds. What a surprising and delightful “grand finale” to my adventure Down Under.

Song duets of a pair of Grey Butcherbirds. Recorded at sunrise on 6 November 2012 in Karuah National Park, north of Newcastle, New South Wales, Australia. Intervals between duets have been reduced for your listening pleasure. © Lang Elliott, all rights reserved.

The following sonogram shows the particulars … eight songs, all being duets. I followed the pair for nearly an hour in dry forest in Karuah National Park, just north of Newcastle. The is just a small sampling of the thirty or more song duets that I captured.

If you wear headphones or earbuds, you can clearly hear the different locations of the two individuals and their relative contributions to each song outburst. I’m not entirely sure how you can tell which is the male and which is the female, but I assume that the male usually initiates the duet, with the female chiming-in to fill out the song.

From a distance the duets sound like the work of just one singer, a bright melodic outburst of considerable beauty. Only when you get close can you hear the different positions of the two contributors and appreciate the close-knit quality of the duet.

There is really no comparison to this back in the United States. Sure, female Carolina Wrens and Brown-headed Cowbirds may chatter when their mate sings, but these are pale in comparison and the female outbursts are far from being musical. I have heard musical “call duets” between pairs of Great-crested Flycatchers, but these don’t hold a candle to the butcherbirds.

Australia seems full of such surprises. Next spring, I fully expect to find myself bored with my local soundscapes and longing to hear the exquisite melodies from Oz, from that magical land below the equator where birds sing like nowhere else on earth, their songs freshly sprinkled from the heavens.

Do I plan to come back to Australia for more recording? You betcha! C’mon, I still haven’t recorded the zen-whistling Pied Butcherbird, perhaps the greatest singer of all. That’s a magnet that will surely lure me back!

Magpie Composition

by Lang Elliott · November 4, 2012 · 25 Comments

A true signature sound of Australia is the gurgling, bubbling melody of the Australian Magpie, a large black-and-white butcherbird of open country as well as forest edges and clearings. During our recent trip to New England National Park, I was very fortunate to record the contagious singing of a group, in farm country just outside the park:

Songs of Australian Magpies recorded around 7am, 27 October 2012, just outside New England National Park, New South Wales, Australia. © Lang Elliott (note: set against background recorded in dry forest near Coonabarabran, New South Wales, Australia.)

The magpie’s musical song is a complex series of rich and varied gurgling whistles that lasts five or six seconds. It begins with soft low-pitched notes but quickly builds in volume and sometimes cascades downward at the end. The effect is quite pleasing, a real Australian “delicacy” for the ears.

Magpies live in family groups that defend territories. Males often begin singing in the wee hours of dawn, before other birds, although they usually continue to sound off well into the morning. The best performances happen in areas where they are dense, with the singing of one male eliciting the song of a neighbor, which may then elicit the song of another nearby male. This contagious singing pattern is quite evident in my recording, which involves at least four or five different males. Sometimes it sounds as if more than one male sounds off simultaneously from a single location. It’s also possible that females add notes when their mates sing, although I do not hear that happening in my recordings (duetting commonly occurs in related species such as the Grey Butcherbird).

A Soundscape Composition: The recording I’m presenting is actually a “composition,” in that I was compelled to place the songs against a different background to improve the listening experience. This is why I have called this post “Magpie Composition.”

Throughout my original field recording, there were several birds of an unknown species giving loud and obnoxious high-pitched (alarm?) calls almost continuously in the background. Perhaps these birds had a nest nearby and were disturbed by my presence. Whatever their cause, these calls pretty much wrecked the recording, at least from the perspective of human appreciation of the magpie songs. Fortunately, I was able to use advanced editing techniques to literally lift the magpie songs from their distracting background and then re-place them against a more pleasing backdrop from a similar dry sclerophyll forest.

I hope you like the result! While not an entirely authentic documention of the actual sound event, the recording does qualify as a “near-natural representation” of the magpie’s extraordinary musical talent … and it sounds WAY better than the raw field recording. In other words, the magpie songs are absolutely authentic and true to life (they have not been twisted, stretched or crunched), but their exact timing and the background ambience has been changed.

Fair enough?

p.s. Australian nature recordist Vicki Powys also tells me the following species occur in the background: Peaceful Dove (heard at the beginning), White-throated Treecreeper, Willie Wagtail, hint of Pied Butcherbird, Noisy Friarbird, Mistletoebird, Spiny-cheeked Honeyeater, a flycatcher species, Rufous Whistler, and Yellow-faced Honeyeater. Wow, Vicki’s got a great ear, doesn’t she!

ART CREDIT: The attractive painting of magpies is by Australian artist Katherine Castle. It is available in notecard form and as both paper and canvas prints. Check it out on her web site:

http://www.wildlifeart.com.au/2012/08/20/an-aussie-good-morning-magpies/

Muskrat Ramble

by Lang Elliott · March 18, 2011 · 7 Comments

Ever heard a muskrat squeal? Well, I had no idea they even made any sound until I heard the following recording by my buddy Ted Mack. During a visit to Crescent Lake National Wildlife Refuge during the spring of 1994. One morning, Ted set his soundscape microphone in a grassy marsh. To his amazement, a pair of muskrats soon swam by, squealing excitedly at one another and then diving into the water:

Muskrats giving squealing calls in marsh; possibly courtship behavior. Early am, 30 April 1994, Crescent Lake National Wildlife Refuge, Nebraska. Recorded by Ted Mack.

Listen also for the honks of a Canada Goose, the distant hoots of a Great Horned Owl, and the periodic swishing sound of wind blowing the grass,

Quit a unique recording, huh? Wonder why I’ve called it Muskrat Ramble”? If you’re an old-timer you might guess. It’s because my dad used to play a jazz tune by that name, a piece written by Kid Ory and played by Louis Armstrong and his band. Would the real “Muskrat Ramble” please stand up …

Muskrat Ramble by Kid Ory, played by Louis Armstrong’s band, circa 1926.

Wings Over The Prairie

by Lang Elliott · March 9, 2011 · 9 Comments

We’ve all seen waterfowl flying overhead, but few of us are aware of how much sound they make with their wings.

In 1994, Ted Mack and I embarked on a six-month recording expedition. Our first project was to document the spring migration of waterfowl as they moved northward through the prairie states. For nearly two months, we worked numerous lakes and potholes in shortgrass prairie from Nebraska to North Dakota and Manitoba. One of our favorite spots was Crescent Lake National Wildlife Refuge in west-central Nebraska. During one of his visits to the refuge, Ted discovered a long and narrow pothole that appeared to be a primary flight path for waterfowl moving between large marshy wetlands at each end. He noticed that duck after duck would fly the length of the pothole, often only ten or fifteen feet above the surface of the water. During a lull in activity, Ted quickly placed his soundscape microphone along the shoreline and then retreated to his pickup truck a few hundred feet away. There he smiled with pleasure as ducks not only flew over the mic, but also landed and swam right in front of it. Here are some highlights from his session, featuring the wing sounds of a variety of species, including Common Goldeneye, Green-winged Teal, Lesser Scaup, and Northern Shoveler:

Wing noises of various species of waterfowl flying over and landing in a prairie pothole. 8 am, 23 March 1994, Crescent Lake National Wildlife Refuge in western Nebraska. Recording by Ted Mack.

Can you believe the incredible whooshes made by the ducks in flight? I was shocked when I first heard these sounds. Sure, I had heard the musical twittering of beating wings and some measure of swishiness, but never anything so powerfully loud as what Ted has documented. Good job Ted!!

Let me help you identify some of the sounds. The musical wing twitter or whistle that is prominent about a third of the way through is made by the Common Goldeneye (also called “The Whistler”). Listen also for the loud musical peeps of Green-winged Teal, heard right after the Goldeneye. The odd nasal notes heard at various points are made by Lesser Scaup—a small group was swimming not far from the microphone. About halfway through, listen for a male Ring-necked Pheasant that cackles and then shakes his wings. About two-thirds the way through, a Northern Shoveler takes flight and makes calls that sound like chux, chux, chux.

So whatya think of these amazing sounds? Please leave a comment and let me know.

Wapiti Wailings

by Wil Hershberger · March 8, 2011 · 6 Comments

Although I don’t get to hear it all that often, one of my favorite sounds is that of our native elk bugling during the fall rut. Wapiti, as it is know to the native Americans, is a formidable creature. Adult elk are avoided by even grizzly bears as those massive antlers can mean terrible injury or even death. Many an unwise tourist has been introduced to the business end of those ivory tines and learned the hard way – keep your distance.

During the fall the elk are in rut. Males wail night and day trying to attract a harem and defend it from other males. Watching one of these beasts bugling instills in the viewer the shear power required to create such a wonderful sound that can be heard for miles. In the still darkness of 3am on September 23, 2010, I was in a large meadow just east of Jackson Lake in Grand Tetons National Park, Wyoming. The cataract at the dam of Jackson Lake can be heard in the distance as well as great horned owls and the single yelp of a canid – perhaps a wolf. There are several male elk spread out from very close to where I was standing (you can hear him munching on grass) to many hundreds of yards in the distance. The hills in the area reflected the screams, creating a wonderful echo and reverberation.

An ethereal early morning chorus of elk bugling near Oxbow Bend of the Snake River. Grand Tetons National Park, WY. ©Wil Hershberger, 3AM, Sept. 23, 2010.

Even though this is a rather sterile recording composed of just a few species, I really enjoy the sense of space and the feeling of loneliness that can be palpable in these locations. What do you think? I certainly hope that you enjoy this recording as much as I.

Breezy Wheezy Singer

by Lang Elliott · March 6, 2011 · 17 Comments

The songs of our native thrushes are typically described as being flutelike and ethereal. This description works pretty well for Wood Thrush, Hermit Thrush, and even Swainson’s Thrush, but it isn’t accurate when it comes to the songs of the Veery, Gray-cheeked Thrush, and Bicknell’s Thrush. These latter species have ethereal and musical songs, for sure, but even the flute of Pan could not come anywhere close to imitating them (at least I don’t think). No, I wouldn’t call them flutey, but I would certainly characterize them as being breezy, wheezy rambles of silvery, musical, and reedy notes.

It my opinion, the song of the Bicknell’s Thrush is the breeziest and wheeziest of them all. Found in high altitude spruce forest in the mountains of the Northeast, the scarce and reclusive Bicknell’s is not an easy thrush to record. Ted Mack and I have tried a number of times to get acceptable soundscapes on Whiteface Mountain in the Adirondacks, but we have usually failed. However, in mid-June of 2000 I got lucky. Just before dawn, I set my microphone next to a small brook, not far from the summit. A Blackpoll warbler soon began singing, along with a Winter Wren. Not long after, I heard the call of a lone Bicknell’s off in the distance. Then, to my absolute delight, he flew in close, called loudly, and then did his breezy, wheezy thing for several minutes before silently vanishing into the wilds:

Bicknell’s Thrush calls and songs, with Blackpoll Warbler and Winter Wren. 6am, 13 June 2000, Whiteface Mountain near Lake Placid, NY. Recording © Lang Elliott.

I’m wondering what you think of this bird’s song. How would you describe it? Let me hear your words. Does it sound “flutelike” to you? Is “breezy” and “wheezy” accurate? Imagine this is a contest of words, and the winner will get a free trip up Whiteface this coming June (I’m not sure who’ll pay for that, but it’s a nice idea, isn’t it?).

Wrensong

by Lang Elliott · February 13, 2011 · 18 Comments

When I launch my soundscape series of products, I plan to include a title called “Songbird Portraits,” which will include recordings of a variety of my favorite singers. These will differ from most of my other soundscape recordings in that individual singers will be prominently featured, even though embedded in a wide soundscape.

The following recording of a Winter Wren is a good example. The male was singing from the top of a tall conifer next to a babbling brook and I was excited by the pleasurable mix of sound. The wren’s complex and silvery song was prominent but not overwhelming. The gurgling of the brook sounded nice to my ear. What’s more, there were two Wood Thrushes fluting in the background. Everything went well, except that while setting up I tripped over the microphone cable, lost my balance, and fell into the stream! Hrmph! No damage done, thankfully, and I managed to get my recording with a smile on my face:

Soundscape portrait of a Winter Wren with a babbling brook, Wood Thrush, and other bird songs, 6am, 9 May 2006, Shindagin Hollow near Brooktondale, New York. Recorded by Lang Elliott.

I would like some feedback here. I believe most folks will like the sound of this recording, but I wonder how long they might want to play it. Would it get tiring to listen-to after a few minutes?

For relaxing soundscapes, I intend to offer tracks that are five to ten minutes long. But for species portraits like this one, my hunch is that tracks should should be shorter, perhaps lasting around three or four minutes. What does everyone think? One advantage of making species portraits rather brief is that I could cover more birds and include fifteen or more species portraits in the one title (for a total of 60-70 minutes). Or maybe that would be foolish. Maybe a recording like this should last five minutes or more. Whatya think?

Pasture Dawn

by Wil Hershberger · February 12, 2011 · 13 Comments

Hello, Wil Hershberger here. One of my favorite times of day is dawn. From first light through sun-up, as the world awakens and song returns to the earth I get a feeling of renewal, of rebirth. I feel invigorated for the rest of the day.

A particularly magical morning occurred last summer near my home at a large pasture along a lonely country road. There were American toads singing from a pond in the distance and grassland birds were singing from the field. Not far to the right was a copse of trees that supported a variety of open habitat birds. It was still well before sunrise when I started this recording. Grasshopper sparrows were the most vocal and evident species. Spring field crickets, American robins, tufted titmouse, American crows, red-bellied woodpeckers, American toads and green frogs can all be heard in the background, along with cows mooing near the end. I particularly enjoyed the counter singing of the grasshopper sparrows as these males vie for mates and sing to the world that this spot in the pasture is theirs.

What do you think? Are the grasshopper sparrows too loud? Is the presence of cows a turn off or do you like them? This is the time of the year when farmers separate the calves from their mothers and I don’t think that she was very happy with this situation! I was really impressed that I was able to record for nearly 20 minutes without a jet, car, truck or dog contaminating the aural beauty.

Beaver Mumblings

by Lang Elliott · February 10, 2011 · 10 Comments

It is difficult to capture great soundscapes that feature the voices of mammals. Why? Because most mammals keep pretty quiet as they go about their business. Sure, coyote and wolf packs sound off with great enthusiasm every now and then, squirrels and chipmunks chatter and chip when excited, and deer snort and bound away when alarmed. But for the most part, mammals are a quiet lot and it is a true gift when we humans get hear their more intimate mumblings—sounds they make as they “talk to one another” in social situations (for example: calls given during courtship and mating, sounds made by parents communicating with young, and the talkings between young in groups).

The following recording puts your ear at the entrance to a beaver den.

It was early September of 1994 and I was sitting at the edge of a small beaver-dam pond in a forested area near Ithaca, New York. It was almost midnight when the mumblings began. Listen for a breathy growl followed by scraping sounds, and then finally the animated moans of young beaver in and around the den. Notice also the hissy sound of water pouring over the beaver dam at the opposite edge of the pond:

Moaning of young Beaver in and around their den, 11:30 pm, 4 September 1994, Connecticut Hill Wildlife Management Area, near Ithaca, New York. Recorded by Lang Elliott.

Is this cool or what? You’d never guess that beaver make such sounds. I only became aware of the moaning when I camped near a beaver hut one night in the autumn of 1988. On that occasion, I was awakened in the middle of the night by the strange, otherworldly sounds. I pulled myself out of my tent and went to investigate. Sure enough, the muffled moans were coming from inside the beaver’s den. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any recording gear with me. But at that very moment, I vowed to get a great soundscape recording of this utterly endearing sound-event. Six years later, after a number of failed attempts, I finally snagged a great one!

Let me know what you think!

Raven Resonations

by Lang Elliott · February 5, 2011 · 6 Comments

Today, I spent some time searching through our sound archives in hopes of finding something special that I had overlooked. I was not disappointed. I uncovered the following wonderful recording of Common Ravens, captured by Ted Mack in Alaska in 2002. I was unable to find the exact date and location, but I thought I’d go ahead and share it anyway.

As you will hear, the magic is in reverberation. When the nearby raven calls, his deep croaks bounce off the landscape, creating a resonant echo that decays ever-so-slowly:

aven croaks. Recorded in Alaska in 2002 by Ted Mack.

Isn’t this fabulous? It’s a true “dimensional soundscape” in the strictest sense. There are a number of other birds sounding off in the recording. I hear Ruby-crowned Kinglet, American Robin, Varied Thrush, and a distant Sandhill Crane. You tell me who the really high singers are. The woodpecker, I would guess, is a Three-toed (because its drum trails off at the end).

What a terrific find!