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.

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!

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

Lost Maples Moonlight Serenade

Written by Lang Elliott on February 22, 2011 · 3 Comments

In early April of 2001, I visited Lost Maples State Natural Area in central Texas in search of Barking Frogs (Craugastor augusti), a unusual subtropical, land-breeding species found in dry, rocky regions from Texas to Arizona.

My adventure began not long after dark, as I hiked a trail that led up a valley next to a stream. I was thrilled to hear Barking Frogs calling from high on limestone bluffs above the trail, but the stream was too loud and the frogs too far away to get a pleasing recording. I tried climbing up to them, but the slope was much too steep and dangerous. So I continued up the valley. The night was magical. It was dead calm. The moon was full (or nearly so) and I was able to walk safely without using my headlamp. The temperature was around 70 degrees Fahrenheit (21C) and the humidity was fairly high—perfect conditions for the Barking Frogs. If only I can get closer . . .

I discovered a second trail that led up the side of the valley. I followed it up to a flat ridge and sauntered along under bright moonlight. I remember scaring up two small herds of wild pigs, the pitter-patter of their small hooves fading into thick brush. At long last the trail began descending into the next valley, switch-backing down a limestone bluff above another stream course. It was here that I encountered several Barking Frogs and discovered that they were giving their gagging croaks from under large boulders or else from crevices in the limestone. No wonder their calls sounded muffled and resonant. I was pleased to get a nice recording of several males calling back-and-forth, punctuated by the soft chirps and trills of Cliff Chirping Frogs:

Several Barking Frogs calling from a limestone bluff, 1 am, 5 April 2001, Lost Maples State Natural Area near Vanderpool, Texas. Recorded by Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

After gathering a number of closeup recordings, I made several attempts to get a nice soundscape. My efforts generally failed until I droped down to the stream. At 3 am I captured my favorite portrait, a true “moonlight serenade” featuring a single Barking Frog sounding off from the bluff above the stream, with distant cricket frogs and cliff chirping frogs coming and going against the gurgling backdrop:

A single Barking Frog calling from a limestone bluff above a gurgling brook. 3 am, 5 April 2001, Lost Maples State Natural Area near Vanderpool, Texas. Recorded by Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

These recordings bring back my fond memory of walking the trail alone under soft moonlight, enveloped in a unique and extraordinary soundscape so different from what I’m used to back home. I remember enjoying the beauty and solitude, yet I wanted to share the magic with at least one other person. Returning to the campground just before dawn, I phoned a close friend who I thought would understand, and left a hurried description of my experience on her answering machine. The sun rose and the magic evaporated from view, yet a lasting and poignant impression had been made on my mind.

Long Pine Predawn

Written by Lang Elliott on February 15, 2011 · 9 Comments

Several years ago, my friend Beth and I visited the Everglades National Park in late May in hopes of videotaping frogs and toads. Unfortunately, it never rained and there was virtually no amphibian activity. So we spent most of time sound recording.

One of my favorite soundscapes from our trip is a predawn recording made at Long Pine Key campground. It is rich with sound. Greenhouse Frogs chirp like crazy from the shrubs surrounding our campsite. High-pitched insects give buzzy trills and Common Nighthawks give nasal peents. Chuck-will’s-widows sound off in the distance, their songs echoing through the pine woods. The most interesting sound is at the bottom end of the frequency spectrum: the booming of the nighthawks. Their airy expulsions (which remind one of “you know what”) occur when they dive toward the ground and then suddenly swoop upward, the air rushing through their spread wings:

Predawn soundscape from Long Pine Key campground in Everglades National Park. 4am, May 28, 2008. Recorded by Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

Though fairly busy, I am captivated by the mixture of sound. In particular, the numerous booms of the nighthawks create a flavor that is unusual among soundscapes.

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).

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!

ThunderToads

Written by Lang Elliott on January 30, 2011 · 20 Comments

During our discussion of what makes a recording relaxing, my friend Dorothy Gracey commented that “distant thunder/rain and a soft frog chorus would be heavenly.” So I’ve decided to give her what she wants.

I made the following recording, which I call ThunderToads, in early April of 2000, at Land Between the Lakes, Kentucky (which you’ve probably gathered is one of my favorite places to record). A thunderstorm was passing by, though mostly in the distance. Several American Toads were sounding off from a wetland next to the road, and Spring Peepers were singing lightly in the background. After many rounds of thunder, it finally began raining:

American Toads, distant Spring Peepers, and distant thunder, then rain, 8 pm, 10 April 2000, Land Between the Lakes, Kentucky. Recorded by Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

This soundscape is one of nature’s finest lullabies! The toads are lovely and the distant thunder is soothing. The entire recording lasts a little over and hour. I intend to offer it for sale as a sleep aid. Whatya think? Might this recording help you transition into the land of heavenly slumber? I almost fell asleep while editing the recording for this post!

NOTE: Please don’t listen to this recording using tiny little speakers. If you do, you won’t hear the lovely low frequency rumble of the thunder. I advise using a speaker setup that is accompanied by a subwoofer, or else listen using headphones.

Blue Mountain Frogscape

Written by Lang Elliott on January 25, 2011 · 5 Comments

Frogs and Toads can be a challenge to record. The problem is one of balance. If several species are involved, it is important that their sounds do not compete too much with one another, thereby turning the soundscape into a cacophonous “mush.” It is also important that calling individuals not be too close to the microphone; otherwise their calls may be too loud and overwhelming, especially if many individuals are involved. Loud calls might be okay for a brief recording designed to be used in an identification guide, but they are not okay if one desires a soundscape that the listener will enjoy for minutes on end.

Consider the following “frogscape” recording that I made in the summer of 1997 at a favorite location near Paul Smith’s College in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York:

A mixed-species frog chorus recorded at 10pm on 22 June 1997 in the Adirondack Mountains not far from Paul Smiths, New York. Recorded by Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

This is a fairly dense recording (meaning there’s lots going on). The sounds of four species are clearly heard. The most prominent singers are the Gray Treefrogs (pictured above); listen for their brief melodic trills. Spring Peepers provide the high end, their shimmering peeps adding sparkle to the recording. In addition, Green Frogs give staccato gunk! calls throughout, and a Bullfrog sounds off occasionally with his rum, rum, rum.

Do you like the balance here? I remember being very careful with microphone placement. The biggest challenge was getting some distance from the Spring Peepers, while at the same maintaining good levels of the other species. I think the result is pretty decent. The Gray Treefrogs are not at all overwhelming. The only thing I am tempted to do is lower the Spring Peepers a bit.

What’ya think? Should I fiddle with this recording, or just leave it as it is?