Snipewinnow Marsh

Written by Lang Elliott on March 27, 2011 · 5 Comments

In late May 2005, Ted Mack and I visited Riding Mountain National Park in Manitoba. The park is an island of wilderness rising out of the prairie landscape, where habitats of eastern, western and northern Canada meet and mingle into a pattern of forest, grassland, hill and valley.

In dawn’s early light, Ted and I converged upon a huge marshy area surrounded by forest. Full of beaver ponds and alder patches, the marsh was home to a large variety of species. Ted ventured way out into the wetland and snagged a wonderful dawn chorus. Most impressive are the eerie winnows of a Common Snipe, a sound made by air moving through the outspread tail as the snipe swoops downward then upward in fight. Listen also for the drums of a Ruffed Grouse and the songs of numerous songbirds, including: Marsh Wren, Common Yellowthroat, Chestnut-sided Warbler, Song Sparrow, White-throated Sparrow, Red-winged Blackbird, Mourning Dove, Swamp Sparrow. A Pied-billed Grebe sounds off near the end. What an incredibly rich and varied soundscape:

Dawn chorus in a northern marsh with lots of Common Snipe winnows. 6am, 30 May 2005. Riding Mountain National Park, Manitoba. Recorded by Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

I can’t wait to get back up to Manitoba, not only to pay my respects to Riding Mountain, but also to explore the abundance of pothole ponds to the south of the park in the Minnedosa area. And then there is Poverty Plains, a great spot for finding hawk nests and the home to western species such as Brewer’s Blackbird. Have any of you ever been to any of these places?

Muskrat Ramble

Written by Lang Elliott on March 18, 2011 · 5 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.0:00 / 0:00

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 1926.0:00 / 0:00

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.

Night Squeals

Written by Lang Elliott on March 13, 2011 · 5 Comments

During my first recording expedition to Florida in 1988, my buddy Ted and I camped in a low area next to a small river and were delighted when a pair of Barred Owls paid us a visit in the dark of the night. We managed to get some nice recordings as they hooted back-and-forth in a pine tree overhead, but those were the days before we began using soundscape microphones to capture the full dimensional experience. Since that first expedition, I have returned to Florida many times and recorded many Barred Owl visitations. Sometimes I think that owls are friendlier down there. It certainly seems so because about every time I camp out in a Florida swamp, the owls come visit me!

One of my favorite Barred Owl recordings is from Ocala National Forest in central Florida. I canoed down a river to a likely spot and set up camp. To my delight, when darkness arrived, I heard the squeal of a young owl (its begging call) not far from my tent. I set up my microphone and waited. A little before midnight the parents finally arrived, hooting in the distance and then up close. When they finally fed their “little one,” he screamed with considerable delight before receiving his mouthful of ecstasy (I think he got fed, but maybe not; see bottom of post):

Barred Owls hooting, Pig Frogs croaking, and an immature owl periodically giving begging sqeuals. 11:30pm, 5 June 1994, Ocala National Forest north of Orlando, Florida. Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

Pretty nice, huh? I’ve shortened the recording somewhat so you can hear a good deal of the hooting and squealing. I rather like those Pig Frogs; they were sounding off from the river’s edge. The insect chorus brightens the recording … it’s not too loud is it?

As for the little one being fed, I must point out that it was pitch black and I didn’t actually see anything. But his loud and animated squeals indicate something important happened there, which I presume was him being fed by one or the other of his parents. But how could they feed him when they’re both hootin-it-up? Does anybody out there have an explanation? (Gerrit, if you’re listening, please chime in)

Peents and Booms

Written by Lang Elliott on March 11, 2011 · 13 Comments

photo of Common Nighthawk © Brian Small I love listening to nightjars of all types, their strange calls being among my favorite voices of the night. Who is not moved by the musical whistles of Whip-poor-wills, Chuck-will’s-widows, and Poorwills, the buzzy peents of Common Nighthawks, the toadlike trills of Lesser Nighthawks, and the nasal purr-weers of Common Parauques?

One of my all-time favorite nightjar recordings is one made by my friend Ted Mack. The date was May 17, 2006. Ted and I drove to a remote area in the Adirondacks, arriving at our destination at 4:30am. As soon as we got out of car, we heard a Common Nighthawk giving nasal peent calls and periodically diving and booming as Green Frogs and Spring Peepers sounded off from a nearby pond. Ted fumbled with his gear in the parking lot while I sprinted down the road in order to get under the calling bird. But as soon as I turned on my recorder, the bird shifted its activity to Ted’s position, and Ted raked in the gold:

Common Nighthawk peents and booms, 4:30am, 17 May 2006, Adirondack Mountains near Paul Smiths, NY. Recording by Ted Mack.0:00 / 0:00

You may wonder how the nighthawk produces the loud, airy booms. These remarkable sounds occur as the male dives toward the ground and then pulls upward at the last moment, the sound being made by air rushing through the feathers of his wings. Pretty amazing, isn’t it?

This recording is special because of the close proximity of the nighthawk, which circled and boomed above Ted for over five minutes. Usually, they come and go, giving a few calls and a boom from close by and then heading off into the distance, their calls becoming muffled and soft.

Do you like this recording? I had to do a little work on it to eliminate popping sounds made by Ted’s car as it cooled, and also to reduce some annoying high frequency hiss. I also toned-down a few of the loudest peents. Did I do okay? Does it sound good to you?

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!

Wings Over The Prairie

Written by Lang Elliott on March 9, 2011 · 8 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.

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.

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?).

Thousand Dollar Croaks

Written by Lang Elliott on March 5, 2011 · 11 Comments

What’s a ribbit, peep, or croak worth? For the sake of my sanity, I wouldn’t dare calculate the amount of money I’ve spent over twenty-five years, chasing after myriad frogs and toads, documenting their calls. But there is one rather unusual frog that I will account for here, a remarkable amphibian that eluded me for years—the timid Crawfish Frog, a chunky, dark-spotted species named for its habit of taking refuge in abandoned crawfish burrows (see range map below). Crawfish Frogs are explosive breeders and can be heard for only a week or so in early spring. Their mating call is a deep gagging snore, a sonorous croak that I absolutely had to snag for my collection.

It was early spring of 2007. I had enlisted the help of John John MacGregor, Kentucky’s state herpetologist. On March 20, John e-mailed me that the weather looked good (rainy and warm) and urged me to meet him in western Kentucky the next afternoon. That evening I threw everything in my car and drove like a mad-man, covering 900 miles from Ithaca, New York, to western Kentucky, so I could rally with John at the appointed hour.

Shortly after dark, we homed-in on a calling group in a wetland in a grassy prairie that had been reclaimed from surface-mining. To my dismay, Spring Peepers were calling so loudly that it was impossible to record. For the next few hours, we drove all over the place, stopping and listening, but to no avail. Then, just when we were ready to give up, a friend of John’s (zoologist Brainard Palmer-Ball) called and informed us that had located a small calling group in a farm pond not far away. We drove to investigate.

The situation was perfect. Several Crawfish Frogs were clustered along one edge of the pond, calling intermittently. Other species (American Toad, Spring Peeper, Upland Chorus Frog, and Southern Leopard Frog) could be heard calling, but they in no way interfered. I was able to get some pretty decent recordings, though not entirely up to my standard. So I stayed in the area for two more nights, searching for other choruses (this included a foray into southern Illinois in hopes of finding Illinois Chorus Frog, but that didn’t work out). The night before I was to return home, I headed back to the little farm pond, and this time struck gold, capturing my best recording of all:

Crawfish Frogs snoring away in a small farm pond, with aggressive stuttered calls. 1am, 24 March 2007, near Princeton, KY. Recording © Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

Granted, my adventure was a clear success in terms of getting a great recording, but how much did it all cost? My trip lasted five days. I drove over 2000 miles (in my gas-guzzling Isuzu Trooper). I stayed in two motels. I ate lots of junk food. The final tally? Well, if I take into account the wear-and-tear on my car, the whole affair cost me at least a thousand bucks, perhaps considerably more.

So there you have it! Thousand Dollar Croaks! OMG! Such is the business of frog and toad recording! Gas guzzling, money guzzling, and time guzzling. But would I do it all over again? YOU BETCHA! I consider myself one lucky man for having recorded those awesome croaks. I only wish my bank account was in better shape. To remedy this situation, I suggest that all of you send your donations to The Frog Recordist Reclamation Fund, PO Box 1000 Bucks, Herpetoillogica, NY. Thank you in advance for your generosity!

range map for Crawfish Frog Crawfish Frog Range Map