Category: sonora

Fortunately, I have a lot of interests. Unfortunately, and the problem of having a considerable amount of interests, I can’t get most of my projects done – there is always something more interesting to think about. Maybe this is a sign of ADHD or simple immaturity or neither. Sometimes it’s fun to fuse the topics I’m interested in together. 

Today I decided to mix one of my main hobbies – ornithology and birding (a type of wildlife observation) – with the subject that I am studying – sound. It is the same as using the concept of biomimicry (the emulation of nature to solve complex human problems), although I am not solving any issue. I woke up with this question: “How does the world of sound work for birds?”.

One of the aspects that birders need to know is bird vocalization. Its importance embraces such significance that many birders only dedicate their time attempting to identify birds by their call or song (yes, there is a difference between both). Birding Licenses are administrated to those who complete a formal exam which compiles two sections of evaluation: visual identification under various conditions (maturity of the bird, gender, seasonality, weather exposure, and type of lightning) and sound recognition (calls, songs, sonations and the mixture of all of them in a hypothetic situation where there are more than species in a single environment).

As it is possible to notice, the world of sound in this area represents a pillar of knowledge. Without it, it is not possible to execute this practice. Here’s an example of my guide book for birds that I take with me every time I go on an expedition:

in the characteristics of every bird, there is a section dedicated to their vocal sounds. The funniest part is that the heard sound was literally written in words apart from a description followed with adjectives and common verbs related to birds (e.g. sing, tweet, twitter, cheep, chirp, shriek, cry, hoot, caw, cluck, crow, cook-a-doodle-do). The vocalization writing system functions as a code, as every group of letters, represents a specific tonality:

This aspect reminds me of one particular lecture with Dr. Louise Marshall, where she discussed a project, from the dutch artist Toine Horvers, called “Chartres one hour of sound in a Gothic Cathedral”, where he described sound without referring to the source. Attempting this sounds complicated, although, and considering the ornithologist way of describing vocalizations, Toine forgot to write sound as it is. This could be a literary centric perspective of a sound. 

Definitions on bird vocalizations

There are two types of bird vocals: (1) bird calls (relatively simple vocalizations); (2) bird songs (relatively complex vocalizations). In non-technical use, both are considered to be songs as they sound melodious to the human ear, but in ornithology and birdwatching, the couple differs from one another. Songs tend to be longer, more complex, and are mainly associated with territory/courtship and mating. Calls are more likely to be alarms or a way to keep in contact with other relatives. It is also considered to be songs the non-vocal sounds of woodpeckers drumming and the “winnowing of snipes” according to some ornithologists.

Example of (interesting) songs:

• Western Capercaillie (Tetrao urogallus)

Examples of (interesting) calls:

• Willow ptarmigan (Lagoupus Lagopus) – “Very characteristic calls: “Kuwa -Kuwa -Kuwa” (go back!) Also: “kauw kauwkkkrrrkekekekekeke” with a short pause after first “kauw”, then a decelerating cackle, often followed by the “go back” call.” (Nord University – Bird ID)

• Eurasian bittern (Botaurus stellaris) – mating call, or contact call, is audible from a distance of 5km (3 miles) on a calm night. 

• Common Loon (Gavia immer): resembles the calls of a wolf. “(They are) essentially saying I’m here, where are you?” – Greg Budney

Nevertheless, both types of vocalizations have a deep relation with the geographical and taxonomy context they are inserted. The passerines are the group of birds that are best in vocalization, but some birds are completely voiceless, producing only percussive and rhythmic sounds such as the storks which clatter their bills, or other birds who use other parts of their body to produce noise as a signal – this is called mechanical sound production. Stridulation, on one hand, is a good example of these types of vocalizations, which is the act of producing sound by rubbing together certain body parts. Charles Darwin in the Origin of Species described this mechanical sound production as instrumental music. More recently, it was defined as sonation (sounds opposed to the use of the syrinx – birds vocal organ). To sonate is the act of producing non-vocal sounds that are intentionally modulated communicative signals using non-syringeal structures such as the bill, wings, tail, feet, and body feathers.

Examples of (interesting sonations):

• Ruffed Grouse (Bonasa umbellus)

• Magnificent frigatebird (Fregata magnificens)

• Great Sage-Grouse (Centrocercus urophasianus)

Last week it was brought to my hands a little instructional book called “A little guidebook for home listening (2020)” by Ruth Anderson, Sam Auinger, David Behrman, Katrinem, Annea Lockwood, Bruce Odland, and Liz Phillips. It was meant to be a guide for sound artists to find their space inside the sonic world and their motif, followed by a list of practical exercises to do at home or outside individually.

The first exercise was called “sound portrait: hearing a person” and was developed by Ruth Anderson, an American music composer, orchestrator, teacher, and flutist. Ruth suggests that music can explain a person, and vice-versa if we put ourselves in a darkened room, in a comfortable positing, with a song picked by us and by forcing the image of a loved person of ours. she says that if you complete this procedure:

“(…) you will find after, an understanding of the person you did not have, and a personal relationship to the music. the music, too, will be known.”

Lately, I’ve been listening to Boy Harsher’s lesser man EP (2014), suggested by my sound artist friend Inês França (@in.fra.es on Instagram), and decided to pick one of the songs of this project (“pain” – track no. 3) to do my “hearing person experiment”

The result: a weird experience in unveiling a person that I know and care about. now I strongly believe that i don’t know her. The whole experience felt like a video clip – strong and vivid images crossed my mind of something that may not be the reality. I think that i’m not able to say that this song changed or revealed explanations of this person, but I definitely can say that it changed her hues and textures, the feelings and emotions attached, and her characteristics. Music didn’t create/explained the person I know. Instead, it created a new one.

The second exercise that i liked the most was “my personal sound space – an exploration by ears” designed by sam auinger, an austrian sonic thinker. sam suggests the exploring of space through sound using a pebble to answer the question “why we hear what we hear and how it makes us feel?”. The experiment is tripartite with the following tasks: pebble meets objects (touch different materials in your room with the pebble and find interesting patterns, differences between textures, etc.); pebble falls on a surface (let the pebble fall in the ground and let the sound absorb the room. Try different surfaces); pebble meets an arranged situation (combination with the previous two tasks).

“it is essential that our imagination leads us and that the game forecasting the change in the sound is part of this exercise. by doing this, we will develop a kind of an inner ear and the ability to hear the sounding properties of objects and spaces and to feel their inherent atmospheres in advance – which allows us to
act more according to our needs.”

My response: this experience indeed opened some windows in my sound perception. It feels like a mindful experience through space and sound, because suddenly you can only care and think about the different sound that the pebble can produce. trying to identify different types of sound textures and tones. It feels the same as looking at a forest and trying to decipher all types of green there are according to each tree. or looking into grains of sand and try to identify as many colors as one can. I think I’ve underestimated the sound qualities and let the visual world dominate my senses From now on, objects have both sound and visual silhouettes.

Lastly, Liz Phillips, an american sound artist, appeals to our selective memory to remember the sounds that we recollect from a determined place and time and from that create a sonic world with the sounds that we most love and appreciate hearing. this was, by far, the exercise that put me more in a sound perspective.

our senses tell us so much if we are present and still and open.

my response:

I grew up in the Portuguese city of Porto and its surroundings, and now that I think about my selective memory I do hold in my hard disk loads of sound memories of my hometown and its different textures. as an example, the other day I was searching sounds for fun in freesounds.com, I come across myself with a zoom h6 field recordings of Porto. This same mysterious recordist named 20020 had +100 recordings of the city in different sound landscapes. I thought to myself “these recordings out of context could be somewhere else”. I later heard a recording of Porto’s bus 600 line, the bus that I would take from school to my house – it was the most nostalgic experience that I had because the sound that the bus produced was exactly the way I remembered it. it was not only the sound of the engine but the sound of the walls shaking, the deteriorated pavement, people’s voices. this reflects the importance of sound. the 600 line bus sound is unique because of its patterns – human, technological, and environmental – and, for me, the emotional connection I have

I also remember my walks with my grandfather near the river of his village and we would hear this strange animal sound that we couldn’t decipher it was a reptile or a bird. Fifteen years passed and my ignorance towards that noise was maintained. it was a peep sound similar to a cuckoo but yet more rhythmic and electrical like a commutator. this year, during quarantine, I began doing research on this sound by talking with the people from the village. no one knew. as a birder, I knew that it couldn’t be a common bird, so I decided to give a shot at the reptiles. at end of 3 weeks, I discovered the sound and I immediately fell in love with that sound, becoming one of my favorite sounds. It was a midwife toad.

Introducing the topic with the great animal orchestra, a project commended by the Foundation Cartier, where the united visual artists were invited to collaborate, to perpetuate and celebrate Bernie Krause’s work (musician, bioacoustics, and scientist). In this project, the main figure is Bernie, who has been recording animals for 45 years and has compilated more the 5000 hours of sound recordings and over 15 000 individual species in their natural habitats from all over the world. The work was followed by an exposition where the spectator is surrounded by soundscapes, spectrograms. the spectrogram creates an abstract landscape that folds very smoothly in the environment of the exhibition.

Animals are indeed natural instruments that hold unique sounds and we might not notice the importance they have in landscape, because, maybe, we take natural life as something pre-acquired. this makes me think about the possibility of one day humans stop to listen to the sound of the earth moving as its inexistence is something that no one knows what it feels like. Imagine one day, you wake in New York and all you can hear is a loud murmur reverberating in the tall walls of the city with no sign of technology and life. Although, I feel that Bernie was not recording nature with this ideology. It seems that he was chasing textures and hues, denying the presence of the artist and with a very classic approach. Bernie Krause’s intention is not to lie to you about what you are hearing. In fact, what you hear is reality itself, but from the perspective of the recordist. I consider that I relate a lot to Bernie Krause’s personality. 5000 hours means a passion for something. 5000 hours means patience and knowing how to live with it. Since I was 15 I’ve been observing birds with perseverance and now that I am a young artist I know that I can use this passion of mine for something big. When art touches the most natural things, it explodes with clairvoyance.

On the other hand, Izabela Dłużyk, a polish nature recordist, seeks a feeling when she records her pieces. She makes the presence of the artist more real, as she lets you know where she points her microphone. Her work is selective but yet with no filters. The connection that she has with nature is described by her encounter with it and not the opposite. In her project “soundscapes of summer”, recorded in the forests of Zywkovo (Poland), Izabela shows us what she seeks in a constant movement to find the perfect sensation/spot – in the track “dawn with the white storks” you can notice this elliptical movement of the microphone, where sounds fade away and reappear with a purpose. Compared to Bernie Krause’s recordings, Izabela has a more modern approach to sound, but yet without unrevealing nature itself. The stork’s calling feels to be rotating and the listener is constantly changing positions in terms of space.

Lastly, Jana Winderen’s work is the least realistic, however, it is the most conscient of the post-production capabilities of audio. Jana is a Norwegian sound artist that, for now, has been focusing her work on the unreachable water world, either on the deep sea or even inside the ice. She studies and records wild places that have particular importance in our understanding of the complexity and fragility of marine ecosystems. Her album “energy field” is a great example to describe her work both sonically and artistically: you can notice the presence of the artist in many different ways – microphone selection and position, editing frequencies, and sound structure timeline – and you can point the mood intentionality in terms of feeling and state of mind. in the track “aquaculture” I personally felt a spoonful of seasickness and a very dark and unreachable environment that wasn’t meant to be reached by humans.

Related to the previous showcased works, I would recommend xeno-canto, a website made by ornithologists, and for ornithologists. It is dedicated to sharing bird sounds from all over the world. Whether you are a research scientist, a birder, or simply curious about a sound that you heard out your kitchen window.