Here is where recording information can be included and styled so that the text is small and colored.

Hey, this works quite nicely! Now I wonder if this player is accessible to vision impaired users (unfortunately, a quick test using the FANGS plugin for Firefox indicates that the player will be completely invisible to screen readers such as JAWS).

Most haunting of all is one I call the fairy bell ringer. I have never found him. I’m not sure I want to. His voice — and surely he himself — are so ethereal, so delicate, so otherworldly, that he should remain invisible, as he has through all the nights I have searched for him. It is exactly the sound that should come from a bell held in the hand of the tiniest elf, inexpressibly clear and silvery, so faint, so barely-to-be-heard that you hold your breath as you bend closer to the green glades from which the fairy chiming comes.

This quote has puzzled readers for a long time. Seemingly, the most apt identity of the singer she was seeking would be the Tinkling Ground Cricket, Allonemobius tinnulus. His song certainly fits the bill — a tiny bell being rung from the woodland floor. The silvery tinkling he produces can’t be heard from very far away as he prefers to hide in the leaf litter, preferable of oaks, as he rings out his chorus. Rachel was certainly not alone in having difficulty finding this diminutive singer. Once one is “certain” where he is singing from and begins to search within the layers of fallen leaves he seems to magically vanish. Other than the very lucky searcher who finds him perched on the surface, the best method to find him seems to be to lay out a light colored sheet, grab a large arm full of leaf litter from where he is singing and plop it on the sheet. Careful searching through the treasures in the mound will finally reveal this elusive songster — usually under the last leaf to be turned.

Tinkling Ground Crickets can be found from the southern portion of the New England States south to mid-Georgia, then south from the Gulf coast of Alabama to east Texas then north to extreme southeast Nebraska with a northern limit across northern Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, and then through New York.

Here is a recording of the silvery ringing of a Tinkling Ground Cricket on a cool and rainy day in West Virginia. It certainly evokes the image of a tiny fairy rhythmically swinging a tiny silver bell as if calling all the fairies within earshot to assemble.

Tinkling Ground Cricket singing from the leaf litter in an oak woodland. Berkeley Co. WV. ©Wil Hershberger September, 20110:00 / 0:00

What do you think of Rachel’s marvelous description? Have you heard this secretive singer in the woods near you? If not, next time you are in the woods, from late July until frosts silence these singers, listen for the silvery bell being rung from the forest floor both day and night. A careful approach with a flashlight might just reveal the singer perched on a clump of leaves — lord of his minute domain.

Japanese Burrowing Crickets were introduced into the Washington D.C. area in 1959. From there they apparently spread to the south and have been introduced all around the Southeast, hitching a ride from nurseries as eggs in the root balls of ornamental plants. There is also evidence that some populations have developed the ability to fly. These are called macropterous individuals as they have longer than normal flight wings making them able to fly more easily and for further distances than the typical form. I have not heard any reports that this new species is displacing or harming our native field and burrowing crickets. I would love to know of any studies that are looking into this.

Now, in 2011, it appears that the Japanese Burrowing Cricket is really on the move. I am hearing them just about everywhere I travel in the mid-Atlantic states. Their songs are distinctive, composed of a rapid series of chirps very reminiscent of a field cricket’s song. These rapid series of chirps can go for 6, 8, to 12 repetitions or can go on more-or-less continuously for minutes on end. Apparently, a number of people have dismissed the song as some form of native field cricket song type that they were not familiar with.

Listen to the mellow chirping of the Japanese Burrowing Cricket, first inside at 77F and then outside at 72F. From personal experience I find that individuals that are outside tend to sing continuous trains of chirps rather than the shorter versions that the inside cricket is singing. However, one of the cricket listeners I was talking with described the shorter chirp sequence coming from his flower beds at night.

Japanese burrowing cricket from Ohio singing short series of chirps followed by a longer series of chirps that was recorded outside near Shepherdstown, Jefferson Co. WV. ©Wil Hershberger August, 20110:00 / 0:00

Have you heard or seen these wonderful introduced burrowing crickets in your area? I think their song is a pleasing addition to the nighttime soundscape. What do you think of their song?

But before heading West I would like to do a quick review of what has happened so far. During our early season trip to the Smoky Mountains and several other more southerly locations, Ted Mack and I were dogged by bad weather. Wind and rain made it very difficult to get much, though we managed to snag a few nice recordings before returning home on April 22. In early May, Bob McGuire and I traveled northward to Algonquin Provincial Park in Ontario in quest of choruses of Common Loons. Once again we encountered bad weather (very high winds), but nonetheless we captured some absolutely beautiful loon recordings, along with a really delightful marsh dawn chorus. Here are highlights from both trips, starting with recent recordings and working back:

Dawn in a marsh recorded on May 5 in Algonquin Provincial Park, Ontario:

Loon Magic recorded on May 4 after dark in Algonquin Provincial Park, Ontario:

Dawn chorus recorded on May 1 at Texas Hollow State Forest near Ithaca, New York:

Birds singing at dusk along Elliott Island Road on the eastern shore of Maryland. Recorded April 19:

Busy Dawn Chorus recorded on April 18 in the Pocosin Lakes National Wildlife Refuge in northeastern North Carolina:

Coyotes and a Gurgling Brook recorded on April 14 at Cade’s Cove in the Smoky Mountain National Park:

Whip-poor-wills and Mountain Chorus Frogs recorded on April 12 in Big South Fork National Recreation Area, northeastern Tennessee:

Bonus Track – Lang playing his japanese shakuhachi flute with spring peepers singing nearby (forgive me, I’m a beginner!):

Spring is upon us and I am about to take off for the Smoky Mountains and other destinations. I would very much like you to follow my adventures by checking out my Facebook posts.

Originally, I had intended to post about my trip on my Facebook “business page.” But I’ve recently changed my mind in favor of posting to my “personal profile.” This is because Facebook doesn’t allow me to post simple video-podcasts to my page using my new iPhone, even though it easy to do (almost trivial, in fact) if I post to my profile.

Therefore, I invite all of you good and faithful musicofnature.org blog followers to become my Facebook friends so you can follow me as I gallivant around in nature’s primordial soup. If you’re not already my friend, please visit me on Facebook and send me a friend request. Unless you have a very bad reputation, I am sure to oblige:

Lang Elliott’s Facebook Profile

Note too that I intend to keep a google map of my journeys that will be visible on the home page of the musicofnature.org web site (ironically, I can’t find a way to post that map on my Facebook personal profile, though it is easy to post on my Facebook business page).

Sooner or later, Facebook will come around and give me all the business page features I need, including the ability to automatically post videos from my iPhone. When that finally happens, I will shift the action to my business page and ask all my Facebook friends to move from my profile to my page, where you will no doubt “Like” me for all the bad jokes I’ve told, for all my horsing around, and for the little bits of wisdom that I inadvertently let fall.

tonight, i hear woodcocks twittering
and whimpering above the field.

a lone spring peeper piping weakly
at pond’s edge.

a screech-owl trilling softly
from forest next to my friend’s house.

nocturnal magic, purely felt and smelled.

at dusk, i had noticed a robin alarming;
me-wonders now if he had seen the little owl,
peering from a tree hollow, anticipating
sweet moist darkness.

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?

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.

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.