Northwest Soundscapes

A days' worth of round-trips on the Seattle-Bainbridge Island Ferry, nearly all short fore-and-aft from then passenger and car decks.

A days' worth of round-trips on the Seattle-Bainbridge Island Ferry, nearly all short fore-and-aft from then passenger and car decks.

A days' worth of round-trips on the Seattle-Bainbridge Island Ferry, nearly all short fore-and-aft from then passenger and car decks.

A days' worth of round-trips on the Seattle-Bainbridge Island Ferry, nearly all short fore-and-aft from then passenger and car decks.

This track isn't really from within a coastal hollow. This is the underside of a large boulder being repeatedly smacked by a shallow tide.

I sat on top of a big boulder and lowered my mics in for this track. What you don't hear is me slowly groaning and huffing-and-puffing as I realize that it wasn't a good idea. You know, leverage, balance, and all...

I should have taken more pictures to describe the action. Live and learn. Here the mics free standing, barely, between two large boulders. The tide was coming in but wasn't quite up there. Most of the splashing here is from a shallow inlet filled with kelp.

This is the stuff I really love. The water comes in, fills a little hollow area about 4 feet deep and two feet wide. The it drains out with a shlorky-wet "glurg-g-g-g-g". To say that the 6 year old in me is pleased with it sounding like a giant wet fart is an understatement.

The tide was coming in. There was a slight storm surge from an off-shore event. Positioned at the end of a long narrow breach between two rocks, we can hear the water surging its way between with every wave, only to just kind of "splort" at the very end before draining away.

We're not really in a hollow here. The storm surge is battering a really odd-shaped set of rocks and I'm trying desperately not to fall in.

On the backside of the weird rocks this time. The surge pours over the rocks and slowly trickles away.

Over the weekend of 2018 May 11-13 I spent some time camping in and briefly hiking the beginning section of the Snider Jackson/ Rugged Ridge trail. BEFORE that, however, we'd driven all night and were exhausted just before dawn having not quite made it to the trailhead. After a beautiful dawn chorus, we pitched tents and set out to record the morning. Exhausted, I fell asleep while recording. When...

Sometimes -- nearly always -- I lose myself while recording. Listening to the sounds of songbirds, fowl, wind in trees, squirrels, chipmunks... I feel like I'm alone at nature's whim. I'm just a small, pink dot on her back, along for the ride. It's a beautiful feeling, one that I seek out whenever I can. That feeling is instantly lost humanity intrudes back. Sometimes humanity intrudes hard, like...

Afternoon in Colville National Forest, Calispell Meadow is filled with crickets and grasshoppers.

The morning continues at Little Pend Oreille National Wildlife Refuge's Bayley's Lake.

Little Pend Oreille National Wildlife Refuge, Bayley's Lake has more life. The young eagles' parents circle about the canyon, considering feeding.

Dawn in Little Pend Oreille National Wildlife Refuge, Bayley's Lake is waking. A young eagle calls hungrily for feeding. Ducks disturb the calm air.

Dawn in Little Pend Oreille National Wildlife Refuge. Bats are still out, at the end of their nightly feast. Pygmy Owls' hoots echo across the still waters of Bayley's Lake.

Dusk in Little Pend Oreille National Wildlife Refuge, voices mostly inaudible to humans, thousands of bats fly around the still water at night. Their wings are the only disturbance in the air.

Dusk in Little Pend Oreille National Wildlife Refuge. Bayley's Lake is calm, flat, and sheltered by tall canyon walls.

Dawn in Okanagon National Forest. As I lay in my tent, a woodpecker dances from snag to snag looking for food.

Towards morning twilight the Nightjars return. They circle above calling "peent... peent... peent". Occasionally the pull their wings tight and dive, letting out a loud "boom" that sounds like a distant roar as they straighten out. Crickets sing throughout.

Yesterday Jack Menhorn and I made an important discovery: squeaker toys are uncontrollably funny when fired out of a high-powered slingshot.

Yesterday Jack Menhorn and I made an important discovery: squeaker toys are uncontrollably funny when fired out of a high-powered slingshot.

A short representative collection of elk (and a few birds) from a recent expedition. These are all excerpts from the same 3.5 hour recording on the morning of September 18, starting pre-dawn. It was rutting season in the Colockum Wildlife area, and just before the start of open hunting season, so the males were out, about, and vocal. These are raw tracks, down-mixed to stereo (from double-m/s), no...