Adirondack Brook

Written by Lang Elliott on March 25, 2011 · 9 Comments

Hey everyone! The spring field season is almost upon me and I won’t be able to continue posting regularly beyond the end of March—I figured I’d better warn you. However, I hope to blog regularly during my journeys, perhaps every two days or so.

My first adventure will be spending 10-12 days in the Smoky Mountains in mid-April. Ted Mack will accompany me. We’re going to enjoy the wildflowers and some early spring soundscapes. After that, I’ll be heading up to the Canadian northwoods to record Loons. Finally, when June rolls around, I plan to drive all the way to the Rocky Mountains for more exciting adventures.

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I captured today’s recording, Adirondack Brook, way back in 1995 in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York. I set my microphone next to a small creek where the water made hollow gurgles as it passed over stones. A Northern Parula sang it’s buzzy zeeeeee-up! from a maple tree overhead. White-throated Sparrows were abundant, giving pure tone whistles from pines and firs. A Canada Warbler added its choppy notes to the mix and Ruby-crowned Kinglet topped things off with his spirited melody. Listen also for the chatter of a Red Squirrel and the hum of bees:

Gurgling water with Northern Parula, White-throated Sparrow, Canada Warbler, & Ruby-crowned Kinglet. 6:15am, 13 June 1995. Adirondack Mtns., Paul Smiths, NY. Recorded by Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

This soundscape recording could easily be categorized as “species portrait” because it emphasizes the song of the Northern Parula. Do you like it? I worked really hard to make it usable. Apparently, one microphone was going bad and it produced some high pitch tones that I’ve tried to eliminate. There were other problems as well, such as a lot of high frequency hiss in the bad channel, but I think I did a fairly good job resolving everything. Let me know what you think? Does this recording sound good to you? I really like it.

Hawk, Robin, and Wren

Written by Lang Elliott on March 22, 2011 · 8 Comments

Given that I’ve been working the theme of animals giving alarm calls in the presence of hawks, I can’t help but post the following recording that I made with the help of my friend Karen Edelstein.

Last July, Karen alerted me that immature Red-tailed Hawks were frequently perching and calling in the woods behind her house. So I showed up one morning, waited for about an hour, and then delighted in the arrival of a youngster who landed and screamed loudly from high in a tree. Within seconds, an American Robin started calling excitedly from nearby, giving it’s sharp peek and softer tut-tut-tut alarm calls, probably because it had a nest nearby. Another songbird responded as well; one can hear a male Carolina Wren giving cheer calls (down-slurred rattling trills) in the background. Listen also for the harsh nasal mews of a distant Gray Squirrel, possibly also upset by the presence of the hawk (although his calls may have been coincidental):

American Robin and Carolina Wren sounding off in response to a perched and calling immature Red-tailed Hawk. 10:30 am, 24 July 2010 near Ludlowville, New York. Recorded by Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

I rather like this recording. I think it’s a fairly straightforward example of songbirds responding with alarm calls in the presence of a potential predator, an aerial predator in this case. But can we be absolutely certain the robin and wren are calling because of the hawk? Seems likely for sure, but maybe the Robin and Wren were upset because I was standing nearby. And maybe the distant Gray Squirrel didn’t give a whit about me or the hawk. I say this because I’ve heard Gray Squirrels give mewing calls on many occasions when there was no obvious or immediate cause; for this reason, I’m always hesitant to label them “alarm calls”.

One must always be extra careful when inferring causation from correlation, especially when basing one’s claims on just one or two observations. It is all too easy to misinterpret what is going on.

Gentle Wills

Written by Lang Elliott on March 16, 2011 · 9 Comments

I’ve told this story time and again. I search through my collection of soundscape recordings that feature particular species and I am disappointed to find that most of the time I got too close, the recordings overpowering the average listener who prefers gentle soundscapes over striking closeups.

Such is the case with the Whip-poor-will. I’ve got tons of recordings but nearly all of them are up close. Nice, for sure, but too loud to listen to for long periods. I was beginning to think I didn’t have any really excellent immersive soundscape recordings of Whip-poor-wills, but then I stumbled across the following one that I made in mid-April of 1995 in Kentucky, shortly after the Whip-poor-wills had returned from migration. Take a listen . . . there are lots of birds involved, some perhaps just passing through:

Numerous Whip-poor-wills singing at night in hardwood forest surrounding a small marsh. 15 April 1995, Land Between the Lakes, Kentucky. Recorded by Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

Do you like this recording? It’s busy with Whip-poor-will’s but they are all at a distance and their songs are resonant, well-integrated into their environment. “Gentle Wills,” I have decided to call them because they are so darned easy on the ears! Listen also for the peeping of Spring Peepers, the chirps of Spring Field Crickets, the buzzy, high-pitched song of a Cone-headed Katydid, and water sounds from the marsh.

Twilight Twittering

Written by Wil Hershberger on March 12, 2011 · 8 Comments

During the earliest of morning twilight in spring, ardent listeners can be enthralled by the dawn song of Field Sparrows. Just the weakest hint of light in the east is all it takes to get the males going, their dawn ritual gracing open fields, pastures, orchards and woodland edges.

To appreciate the Field Sparrow’s dawn performance, we must first become familiar with its normal daytime song, which is a series of sweet slurred whistles that quickly speed up into a trill. Here are two examples, both recorded in West Virginia:

Two examples of normal daytime songs of Field Sparrows, both recorded in WV. ©Wil Hershberger0:00 / 0:00

In contrast to its daytime song, the Field Sparrow’s lovely dawn song is more complex—a series of chips followed by a variable collection of slurred notes and trills. Sometimes, the dawn song differs so much from daytime song that a first-time listener has no idea that a Field Sparrow is responsible. Here are three examples:

Three examples of the rapid twittering of a field sparrow giving dawn song. ©Wil Hershberger, June 1998 at three different locations in WV and MD.0:00 / 0:00

The recording above includes examples of dawn song from three different males. The first is from a hay field in southern Frederick County, MD. You can hear a whip-poor-will singing from a wooded hillside in the background. This fellow is producing a very rich version of field sparrow dawn song. The second example is from a wonderful little wildlife preserve in central Frederick Co, MD. Here the dawn song is not so rich, being a simpler version of the motif. Finally, I include an example from good’ol West Virginia (Jefferson County). This fellow was in an apple orchard that was routinely maintained as a commercial orchard (lots of pruning and spraying to control pests). A virtuoso among field sparrows, this last male has the richest and most pleasing of the field sparrow dawn songs that I have heard.

What do you think of the Field Sparrow dawn song? I think it is a special treat that these birds reserve for the break of day, a rapturous explosion of joy greeting the dawn. Granted, the dawn song may function as a powerful message to neighboring males: “Hey — look, I survived the night and this is my territory. Stay out!” But the singing male is likely not thinking anything of the sort, but is simply enjoying the the moment and feeling really good, maybe even rapturous, as he sings.

Wings Over The Prairie

Written by Lang Elliott on March 9, 2011 · 7 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.0:00 / 0:00

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.

Breezy Wheezy Singer

Written by Lang Elliott on March 6, 2011 · 16 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.0:00 / 0:00

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?).

Owl Screams and Elk Bugles

Written by Lang Elliott on March 4, 2011 · 15 Comments

Everyone knows that Barred Owls hoot, but have you ever heard a Barred Owl scream? I’m not talking about the hissy screeches made by begging young—I’m referring to full-bodied screams produced by adults? I have only heard this several times in my life and I’ve never been able to record it. In fact, I was of the opinion that nobody had a good recording of this call until my friend and fellow recordist Bruce Rutkoski posted a wonderful example on his NatureGuyStudio web site blog.

What a fabulous recording! Bruce got the owl screams accidently, while gathering recordings of bugling Elk at a remote location in the wilds of northwestern Pennsylvania (where there is an introduced population of Elk). Apparently, the Barred Owl screamed in response to the Elk bugles (the owl screams are indicated with pointers). What an arresting soundscape!:

Elk bugles and a Barred Owl screams. 23 September 2007. Gilmore Trail in northwestern Pennsylvania. Recording © Bruce Rutkoski.0:00 / 0:00

Thank you Bruce for sharing this with us! Also, everyone please check out Bruce’s web site and all the wonderful soundscape CDs he is has up for sale: NatureGuy Studio.

The Clucking Munk

Written by Lang Elliott on March 2, 2011 · 11 Comments

Oh my, what praytell shall I post this evening? It’s been a long, busy day, so whatever I do can’t take too much effort. Let me see what I have sitting here on my desktop (computer desktop, that is). Hmmmm … how about a recording of … a couple of Eastern Chipmunks giving “aerial predator alarm calls” in response to a Broad-winged Hawk perched in a nearby tree, the hawk giving its penetrating alarm whistle because it could see me sitting there with my headphones on, a few hundred feet away? (FYI, I had set my microphone close to the hawk’s nest just to get his alarm screams; the two chipmunks that started calling off to one side were a complete surprise.)

Will this be exciting enough for everyone, or have I pampered you so much that it won’t impress at all? Well, whatever, here it is:

Eastern Chipmunks giving aerial predator alarm calls in the presence of a Broad-winged Hawk that is also calling. 9am, 27 June 1995, in hardwood forest near Ithaca, New York. Recording © Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

This is quite an instructive recording. The “clucking” of the Eastern Chipmunk is, in fact, given in the presence of aerial predators such as hawks or day-hunting owls. Guess who discovered this? Yep, ME, yours truly. Way back in the mid-1970s, for my masters degree in Animal Behavior and Ecology at the University of Maryland, I studied the social behavior of a population of chipmunks in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York. I made lots of interesting discoveries and described many aspects of their social life that nobody else had witnessed, but figuring out that the hollow cluck-calls are given in the presence of aerial predators was perhaps my most important contribution to their natural history.

At first I had no idea what it was about. I’d hear one chipmunk start clucking, then another, then another, as a “clucking bout” seemed to spread through the forest along a path. It wasn’t until autumn and spring, when the leaves were no longer on the trees, that I was able to put it all together. Seventeen times altogether I was lucky enough to see hawks fly by—mostly Broad-winged Hawks, but also Cooper’s Hawks and even a Goshawk—and in every instance clucking gradually erupted along the flight path of the hawk. When chipmunks gave these calls they became alert, and often sat still on a log, rock, or stump. As you might suspect, an alert chipmunk does not make good prey. If a hawk were to swoop at one, the perched chippie would see it coming and dash to safety.

Why do chipmunks give these calls when they see an aerial predator? Well, I’m not totally sure, but it might have something to do with altruism and genetics, with the “relatedness” of neighbors in the forest habitat. Biologists theorize that if neighbors are related, then it’s a good idea to alert your neighbor of danger, as long as it’s not too dangerous to do so. From an evolutionary perspective, this means that the calling chipmunk is helping pass on its genes, by helping neighbors that share genes . . . or something like that. In addition to the relatedness hypothesis, it is also possible that the sound simply tells the hawk that it has been spotted, that it won’t fare well here, and that it might as well move on down the road.

If you’re interested, you can download a hi-resolution PDF of my original study, provided online by Smithsonian Institution:

Elliott, Lang. 1978. Social Behavior and Foraging Ecology of the Eastern Chipmunk (Tamias striatus) in the Adirondack Mountains, Smithsonian Contributions to Zoology, Number 265, Smithsonian Institution Press, Washington, D.C.

Words Cannot Describe

Written by Lang Elliott on March 1, 2011 · 39 Comments

Words cannot adequately describe the following recording—to even try to put words to it would mute its brilliance, dampen its magic. I only ask that you relax into this soundscape, that you sink your being into this unbelievable mix of sounds.

Rest assured there are no tricks here, no layering of recordings. This sound-event really did happen, just as you hear it, in dawn’s early light, at the edge of a northern bog:

A choir of Hermit Thrushes, with Coyotes and lone Barred Owl. 5:30am, 25 June 2000, in the Adirondacks, not far from Tupper Lake, NY. Recording © Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

Maybe you’re different from me. Maybe you’re unaffected. This recording takes my breath away. I can scarcely believe I made it. I can scarcely believe I just found it (yet another jewel I had overlooked!).

Listen for: A veritable choir of Hermit Thrushes, Coyotes, a Barred Owl, subtle Green Frogs and Bullfrogs, a Yellow-bellied Flycatcher, Lincoln’s Sparrow (I think), one White-throated Sparrow (toward end), plus a few other soundmakers (tell me what else you hear!).

Pine Woods Medley

Written by Lang Elliott on February 26, 2011 · 7 Comments

Spring is coming to the southern pine woods . . . perhaps it has already arrived! With over two feet of snow on the ground here in Ithaca, New York, it is difficult for me to imagine that spring is just around the corner.

Wanting to taste the flavor of the pine woods soundscape, I searched my collection and came up with a pleasing recording from April 29 of 1994. I well remember the experience. I was exploring the Apalachicola National Forest near Tallahassee, Florida, and camped one night near the Sopchoppy River. At the break of dawn, a Great-crested Flycatcher established the rhythm of the chorus with regular slurred notes accompanied by soft throaty garbles (his special dawn song). Bachman Sparrows soon joined in with their musical songs—thin whistles followed by trills. Many other birds sounded off in the distance, including Chuck-will’s-widow, American Crow, and Northern Cardinal. Listen also for the continuous trilling of crickets. What a wonderfully piney medley!

Pine woods dawn chorus featuring Great-crested Flycatcher and Bachman's Sparrow. 6am, 29 April 1994. Apalachicola National Forest near Tallahassee, Florida. Recorded by Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

My friend Bob McGuire is heading to Florida in a couple of weeks. He will be recording bird songs and calls in the Florida panhandle. It will probably be a tad early for him to get a soundscape as rich as this one, but who knows? Whatever Bob finds, I’m sure he’ll home-in on some exciting sound events. So let’s all wish him well as he rushes toward the leading edge of spring.

Good Luck Bob!