Chipmunk Clucks Revisited

Written by Lang Elliott on March 22, 2011 · 5 Comments

Sometimes one’s memory is not so good. After telling a friend that I only had three solid observations of chipmunks responding to aerial predators by giving cluck calls, I went back to my original published study from 1978 and discovered that I had actually recorded a whopping seventeen (17) instances of this behavior, not just three as I had remembered. And come to think of it, I’ve observed at least three additional examples since my study, bringing the total to around twenty! Not bad, even from a scientific point of view.

Concerning my monograph on chipmunk behavior published in 1978, I am pleased to announce that you can now download a hi-resolution PDF copy, thanks to Smithsonian Institution. I had no idea they had made it available online (click on the graphic to access the PDF):

Reference: 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.

Just so we’re all up to speed on this matter, be sure to check out my two previous blog posts: The Clucking Munk and The Chipping Munk. Below is a summary recording featuring the chipmunk’s aerial predator alarm call, cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck … (ending with a chip-trill), followed by high-pitched chipping, chip, chip, chip, chip …, the latter most often given in the presence of ground predators (at least that’s my educated guess):

An Eastern Chipmunk giving 'cluck' calls followed by another individual giving 'chip' calls. Recordings by Lang Elliott made in the Adirdondack Mountains of upstate New York.0:00 / 0:00

One friend tells me he has heard chipmunks clucking in the presence of house cats, and it appeared to him that the cats were stalking the chipmunks and that the chipmunks were responding with the clucks. I would be the first to admit that clucks might be given in response to ground predators, even though my experience has been otherwise. Given that chipmunks may cluck for five or ten minutes after a hawk has flown away, it is quite possible that a cat would walk by during that refractory period, leading an observer to believe the cat is responsible. On the other hand, maybe they do cluck in response to cats. I certainly have no observations to the contrary.

To my blog followers: Let me know if any of you have something relevant to add to this discussion. Have you noticed the clucking yourself? And have you ever nailed down an event (aerial predator fly-by, ground predator walk-by, etc.) that you think actually instigated a clucking bout? Have you ever heard chipmunks cluck in response to cats nearby?

Hoots and Snorts

Written by Lang Elliott on March 10, 2011 · 10 Comments

Lots of folks say that owls fly so silently that their prey cannot hear them coming. Well, this may be true when they’re hunting, but on a quiet night, when an owl flies to a perch nearby, one can certainly hear the sounds of its wings.

The date is May 1, 1993. I am at Delta Marsh along the south shore of Lake Manitoba. It is the middle of the night and countless Wood Frogs cackle from a nearby marsh. I’ve placed my soundscape microphone in a forested patch near a Great Horned Owl nest, in hopes of getting some nice hoots. Just before midnight, an owl sounds off from about a hundred feet away. Then my attention goes to the subtle sounds of something moving around in the leaves, maybe a deer mouse or some other small mammal . . .

Hoots of a Great Horned Owl and snorts of a White-tailed Deer, 11:45pm, 1 May 1993, Delta Marsh, along the south shore of Lake Manitoba. Recording by Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

Holy smoke! That “little” mammal turned out to be one heck of a “BIG” mammal, a White-tailed Deer, who snorted and bounded away into the woods! I am amazed that he made so little noise as he approached. And how about the wing noise made by the Great Horned Owl, both as he flew in close and then flew away about a minute later? Pretty impressive, huh?

Note: As you may have noticed, as of late I’ve moved away from posting “easy listening” recordings in favor of recordings that portray significant sound events. They are still soundscapes, for sure, but more of the engaging type. I’m curious what you think of these recordings. Do you find them satisfying? Would you like to hear long samples, or should I strive to keep these kinds of recordings rather brief, on the order of two to four minutes in length? Let me know what you think!

Wapiti Wailings

Written by Wil Hershberger on March 8, 2011 · 5 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, 2010.0:00 / 0:00

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.

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 Chipping Munk

Written by Lang Elliott on March 3, 2011 · 10 Comments

With regard to yesterday’s Clucking Munk post, which featured a recording of the Eastern Chipmunk’s “aerial predator alarm call,” some folks asked me to provide an example of its counterpart: the “ground predator alarm call.” So I’ve decided to do just that, as well as briefly describe the differences.

The ground predator alarm is a loud, high-pitched, staccato “chip,” given in a measured series (as you might guess, the chipmunk is named for this call). The energy of the call, frequency-wise, is mostly well above 3000 Hz. Here is an example:

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In contrast, the aerial predator alarm call is characterized by a loud, hollow cluck at around 1200 Hz that is accompanied by a much softer high frequency aspect (clucks can be heard several hundred feet away):

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It is true that you may come across a chipmunk giving calls that seem intermediate, but for the most part the two call types are distinct (at least that is my belief). In general, if the low clucking aspect of the call is present and dominant, the chipmunk is most likely responding to an aerial predator, although he might be giving the call because he hears neighboring chipmunks giving the call (clucking is contagious in this respect—if one chipmunk sees a hawk and starts clucking, a neighbor might soon join-in, even though he might not have seen the hawk).

A BRILLIANT IDEA: Why don’t we name this animal based on what sound he’s making? If we come across an individual who is chipping, we will call him a Chip-munk. But if we come across an individual who is clucking, maybe we should call him a Cluck-munk. I rather like that … Cluckmunk! And if he isn’t making any sound? How about Stripemunk!

There is yet another vocalization type made by chipmunks. It is called the “chip-trill” and is given by chipmunks who are diving for cover. I believe that chipmunks give this call no matter what the disturbance (a diving hawk, a fox or dog on the charge, or a human suddenly appearing). Almost always, if you hear this call, the chipmunk is rushing into a burrow, a tree hollow, or other shelter, although in my best recording he gives a chip-trill in the middle of a chip series:

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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.

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:

Kentucky Marsh

Written by Lang Elliott on February 11, 2011 · 11 Comments

When it comes to soundscapes, the night choruses interest me most, and especially the remarkable array of sounds heard in marshes and swamps. Wherever I go, I seek out wetlands and the magic they hold.

I made the following recording in the spring of 1995 at a favorite swampy area in Land Between the Lakes, Kentucky. It was nearly midnight. Whip-poor-wills, Spring Peepers, and distant Chorus Frogs provided a satisfying backdrop for a big surprise: the alarm calls of a two White-tailed Deers, whose airy snorts echo across the marsh in the dark of the night:

Alarm snorts of a White-tailed deer with Whip-poor-wills and frogs calling, 11:00 pm, 15 April 1995, Land Between the Lakes, Kentucky. Recorded by Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

I have a number of night recordings that feature deer snorts, but this one is perhaps my best. The deers weren’t close, which worked to my advantage, producing a reverberant and unobtrusive soundscape. I like hearing the distant deer about halfway through, followed by another that is much closer.

I’m curious if you guys are familiar with this surprising sound. Have you ever heard a deer snort up close? When that happens, it can be extremely startling and make your heart skip a beat (or two, or three).

Beaver Mumblings

Written by Lang Elliott on February 10, 2011 · 8 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.0:00 / 0:00

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!

Mesquite Nightscape

Written by Lang Elliott on February 3, 2011 · 12 Comments

I’ve been working on a soundscape collection I’m going to call Insect Lullabies, featuring recordings that will lull you to sleep, at least when played at fairly low volume. One of my favorites is yet another jewel recorded by my buddy Ted Mack, this one made during our 2005 visit to Chaparral Wildlife Management Area in southern Texas (see Chaparral Concerto for a dawn chorus from the same location).

Ted’s nighttime soundscape features a rich chorus of insects offset by the distant howls and yips of coyotes. I also hear a few calls from a Groove-billed Ani early-on in the recording. About halfway through, a large insect flies right by the microphone. Ted and I had trouble with Kissing Bugs while at the refuge, so my guess is that the wing noise is from one of those obnoxious cone-nosed bloodsuckers that bit me all to heck that very same night . . . well, that’s another story . . . right now, just forget about those nasty bugs and enjoy the wonderful play of sounds:

Insects and Coyotes, 3 am, 21 May 2005, Chaparral WMA near Artesia Springs, Texas. Recorded by Ted Mack.0:00 / 0:00

This recording, I believe, qualifies as a lullaby, but only if played at fairly low volume. I’m thinking about adjusting the loudness of the insects, pulling down the loudest crickets just a bit. What does everyone think? A thumbs up for the “lullaby” aspect, or do the insects overpower you here? Perhaps the near coyote is a bit too loud? Let me know what you think. If there’s a problem, I’ll massage it into shape!

Coyote Echos

Written by Lang Elliott on January 18, 2011 · 6 Comments

Way back in 1994 (seems like yesterday), Ted Mack and I traveled for nearly six months, gathering soundscapes and species recordings. While visiting Valentine National Wildlife Refuge in northcentral Nebraska, Ted managed to snag a close-and-clean recording of a coyote barking and howling, with others sounding off in the distance:

Coyote barking and howling, with others sounding off in response, around 4:30 am, 14 March 1994, Valentine National Wildlife Refuge. Recorded by Ted Mack.0:00 / 0:00

This is an engaging recording. The nearest coyote is quite loud, even though I’ve mellowed him down quite a bit. Yes, he’s rather in-your-face, but nonetheless this is a really fine species portrait and the echos of both the close individual and the distant coyotes add considerable depth to the listening experience. I particularly enjoy the group outburst at the end. Listen also for the soft moans of Greater Prairie Chickens and the calls of Canada Geese.

What do you think of this recording? While certainly not in the relaxation category, do you agree that it is compelling and instructive? Though some of the outbursts are loud, they’re fairly easy on the ears, aren’t they? I’m very curious as to how everyone will respond, given that I’ve mainly been posting “easy listening” recordings.

By the way, my plan is to use this rather brief recording (I’ve posted the entire thing) at the very beginning of a title that will be called “Prairie Spring,” which will actually be a re-mastering of an earlier version that I produced years ago. “Prairie Spring” will feature a variety of prairie soundmakers, including Greater Prairie Chicken, Sharp-tailed Grouse, American Bittern, Western Meadowlark, Baird’s Sparrow, and many more.