“I welcome every noise around me. No matter what it is: a duck, a fish, a deer farting. [...] You invite it all. And [...] this is [...] when you realize [that] every inch of this planet is occupied and we are sharing and coexisting with other species - [so] how can you ever be alone?”  In this edition of Earth.fm podcast Wind Is the Original Radio, curator Melissa Pons speaks to  Serge Bulat, a multidisciplinary artist whose work - which spans and hybridizes music, exhibitions, immersive games, radio, field recording, and psychological installations - explores the edges of performance, sound, perception, and identity. Serge is from a Moldovan town divided from Ukraine by a river, with family hailing from both worlds. For this reason, borders are “a prominent subject in [his] work”, which seeks to question topics around unity, differences and similarities, and the utopian aspiration of finding “ways to live in a borderless world”. Earlier this year, he released Phonomundi: Selected Recordings of Heritage Sites and Traditions 2017-2024, an album which draws upon years of recording, sharing, and contributing to projects, causes, and stories close to his heart. Phonomundi is also about engaging with “our absolutely disastrous path away from respecting our ears and respecting our culture and respecting our environment”. Against a backdrop of woozy compositions by Serge, featuring nature soundscape recordings, he and Melissa discuss the trials of having a “noisy” mind, which feels like “war in your head” and means that “it’s hard to stop the thinking process” - but which can also lead recordists to “forget about [them]self and [...] start thinking about communities, people that are affected, and [how] that [can be] such an ego drop”. Serge also talks about how ‘now’ is illusory, and his “weird relationship with time”: “I guess it might be some form of synesthesia, because I feel time; I feel its thickness and I feel its qualities.” The flow of time is “one of the driving forces behind [him] doing what [he’s] doing”, while field recording can provide “the nowest now that there can ever be”. He describes how, after experiencing difficulties with conventional mediation, he managed to develop his own system of meditation around listening, where “time stops [...] [and] you find that serenity and that absolute calmness and, for me, this is when I stop the noise”. As he says, “We're all pieces of [...] a bigger body and we're [...] made of the same substance. [...] I always struggle to put anything like that in words [...]. It's easier for me to put it in music. [...] This is what music and sound does [...] and words don't.” Together, Serge and Melissa also address topics including: The relevance of creative work in the face of the climate catastrophe and alarming political developments across the world - including how music, as a precursor to language, can be “a shortcut [...] to somebody's mind, heart and soul”. While also acknowledging the necessity of “dig[ging] deeper [to] understand the issues [with which] we're living” Wanting to make work of significance despite “sonic pollution, [...] over-tourism, over-consumerism, weird politics that make zero sense when it comes to preserving [...] or nurturing stuff that matters and makes us us” - and especially in light of the fact that everything we know is at risk of “disappearing just by [the] pressing [of] one button” Learning to love silence. As Serge says, “We need to reset our hearing. [...] I feel like [silence] makes the ear function better” How it is possible to “feel and hear” bees’ moods from the frequencies of their buzzing, and how bee therapy (‘apitherapy’) - known since the time of Ancient Egypt - can improve anxiety, depression, and even respiratory conditions. “What bl[ows] my mind [about them]”, says Serge, is their “self-sufficiency, community, [and the way that they can] solv[e] a crisis [by] relying on each other” Serge

“Sound is life for me.” The latest installment of the Earth.fm podcast, Wind Is the Original Radio, finds curator Melissa Pons in conversation with sound recordist and expedition leader George Vlad. You can listen to and read George’s work elsewhere on the site - and you may already have heard recordings of his in high-profile projects such as Dune: Part Two and Mufasa: The Lion King, as well as various documentaries, TV series, podcasts, and audiobooks. The love of George’s life, as a recordist and collector of sounds, is to be among wildlife sounds, trying to understand them, and getting to share them. Though he confesses to being initially fastidious about avoiding anthropophony, he explains that he has become more understanding and flexible, given how reductive it is to imagine that nature is separate from humans (and vice versa): “We are moving forward, whether we like it or not; progress happens: people need to travel and use power tools.” However, though he has become more open to recording people, he draws a line at combustion engines. He also shares about his journey from being a sound designer, when he originally saw field recordings as purely “tools or assets”, with no appreciation for the ecosystems they originated from. However, informed by his experience of growing up in the Romanian countryside - which taught him the value of loving nature and of living with it rather than trying to control it - he subsequently came to appreciate and take enjoyment from their beauty. Additional topics addressed during the episode include: The “heavy question” of decolonising sound recording and working ethically as a recordist outside of one’s home culture. And, how working respectfully with locals can provide information that, as an outsider, he wouldn’t otherwise be privy to - but also the importance of choosing what to share, considering the importance of certain areas to Indigenous peoples “Being careful, being mindful, trying not to create tension and problems; this is just being a human, being a nice person, having common sense - it's not just about sound recording.” Where some recordists cause damage, ignore local taboos, or go chasing after animals, George has learned to be more mindful, preferring to work with passive-recording drop-rigs, which are not only easier for him, but less disruptive for wildlife Fellow recordists who see going back to camp and having a cup of tea as ‘cheating’ and consider suffering to add value to the work. While George has taken part in extreme expeditions (for example, in Sumatra and Gabon), “It was tough; I got a bunch of diseases, and it was painful, and I had to come back and spend two months taking antibiotics and trying to get better - but that didn't make the sound recordings better.” Alternatively, sometimes you're in air-conditioned lodges and being driven around (where it's unsafe to walk) - but that this is equally valid. Being attracted to the 'extremeness' of the experiences is ultimately only a way of making everything about yourself, and “that's just focusing on the wrong aspect; the soundscapes and the sound recordings are more valuable than the effort you put in, or the leeches that suck your blood” Things that George is afraid of in the field - which turns out to not be a lot, something he puts down to being brought up around cats, which can transmit Toxoplasma gondii to humans: a parasitic infection which reduces fear responses and increases risk-taking. However, he does fear losing his kit on a job Memorable field-recording experiences, including “sleeping on the edge of an active volcano in Ethiopia, without having taken any precautions” against the silica suspended in its gaseous emissions, which can cut up the lungs like broken glass… On the advise of a geologist who turned out not to have any experience of volcanoes How to incorporate study and research into a busy practice - not a problem when you “find it hard not to read”, and when research fuels excit

“I prefer to live in the fantasy, not in the desperation of the crisis [...], you know?” This latest episode of Earth.fm’s Wind Is the Original Radio podcast finds site curator Melissa Pons in conversation with Peruvian sound artist and ‘resilient designer’ Nahun Saldaña. In his work, Nahun explores the intersections between soundscapes and sound ecology, especially in relation to climate change and speculative sound future. Together, they discuss: The possibility of using soundscapes to drive the awareness that we all depend on the natural world - and even of using them to make companies prioritise caring for the planet rather than solely the pursuit of profit.  The ludicrousness of carbon credits (“Okay, you contaminate, but you pay for the compensation”), but the way that a similar model of mitigation could be applied to noisy manufacturers. The impact of individualism on people’s awareness (or lack thereof) of the sounds that they make and how those sounds may impact neighbours or the broader community around them How, in urban spaces, silence has become a new kind of luxury - one denied to people living in lower-income areas A tendency, within the nature-sound-recording community, to fetishise tragedies in the natural world by recording “the sounds of extinction” or the last examples of particular species, despite this not curtailing those tragedies. Is there an argument for focusing, instead, on “stories of regeneration and flourishing”? Whether sound technology can be harmful, and, if so, is it “more important to teach the kids to listen”? Nahun describes an instructive visit to a small jungle town where younger generations no longer have the ability to recognise specific sounds, such as the sounds of honey-producing bees - meaning that resources are lost as older members of the community pass away. The power of deep listening and the notion of “politicians with a capacity for [...] deep listening”, and what groundbreaking policies might emerge from such a (sadly improbable) possibility. Nahun's one of many projects Escuchadores: a physical structure installed in sound conservation areas conceptualized exclusively to listen and stay in the moment. We hope that you enjoy this episode, including Nahun’s irresistible exuberance and enthusiasm! You can follow him on Instagram, and check out the work - writing, photography, video, sound art, and ambient music - on his (Spanish-language) website.

For this March Equinox we have prepared a 60 minute Listening Party with soundscapes recorded in March from the North to the South Hemisphere. We're celebrating the season's transition and we want to invite you to reflect on how we can better accommodate our lives to our surrounding environment. Tracklist: 01:58 Midnight Forest Frogs - Andy Martin 09:01 Western Capercaillie Makes Vocalizations in Early Spring - Andrus Kannel 12:49 Early Spring Thunderstorm in Beech Forest - Ivo Vicic 25:57 Hippopotamoes Preparing for the Night - Sounding Wild 39:36 Dawn Chorus is Saroluk - Enis Çakar 44:00 RDC Nightwalk in Rainforest - Owl - Gina Lo 47:02 Early Autumn Bushland Dawn near the Coorong - Khristos Nizamis 52:56 Tiny Little River - Verónica Cerrotta 56:24 Between Tree Branches - Melissa Pons 57:22: Here in There - Melissa Pons You can listen to all of these soundscapes on our free mobile app at https://Earth.FM available for iOS and Android.

“I don't feel like nature is somehow healing me - I feel as if my body is remembering what it's supposed to be like.” Earth.fm’s Wind Is the Original Radio podcast is pleased to share the second part of curator Melissa Pons’ conversation with sound designer and field recordist Andy Martin. (You can find part one here.) Here, in another thought-provoking instalment, Andy shares his thoughts about deep listening, questioning (in part because of the varied ways in which it is defined) the difference from just… listening. In the field, Andy “describe[s] [him]self as a witness”, of anything from “the trickle of water to hummingbirds which are out to kill each other” - but he refutes the idea of there being any “inherent meaning in a soundscape; it just is; it just exists”. Where deep listening often aspires to finding meaning or making a connection - “an intentional beauty or a message within the soundscape” - he asserts his conviction that there are no such intentions, beyond those of individual wildlife.  “I can listen in wonder and awe”, but “there's nothing there that is a meaningful, special interaction for me; it is just life existing. If we're looking for a deeper connection, a deep meaning within the soundscape [...] we're missing the reality of what's there, and we're trying to put our own feelings, our own belief systems onto that reality - and that's not my job. [...] My job is to listen and bring forth.” What Andy sees as people’s misinterpretations of the natural world overriding the reality means that, “The moment I hear someone describe a dawn chorus as an outpouring of joy, they've lost me. Because that's what it sounds like to us - but that's not necessarily what it is.” Further topics discussed in this episode include: The idea that, by entering other beings’ habitats, uninvited, recordists make themselves into “voyeur[s]”: “To imagine that I am not making a disruption when I go into that space [...] I think is very foolish” - one of the benefits of rolling out hundreds of metres of mic cables to listen while recording (another being the avoidance of self-noise: “I sniffle, I cough, I shuffle - I make a lot of noise”) The difference between American robins’ dawn and dusk calls and whinnies The close evolutionary relationship between birds, dinosaurs, and crocodilians - plus, a hair-raising story of being alone in a Louisiana swamp, hearing alligators booming in the twilight and legging it for his car. (Really, who can blame him?) Hearing soundscapes in those fog-shrouded swamps of the Atchafalaya Basin change over course of a year and noting the different times at which different species of frogs and insects sing, and the different frequencies in which they do so: Bernie Krause's acoustic niche theory in action The potential selfishness of making nature recordings, and whether it's necessary to assign a 'higher cause' to justify making doing so in ways that may exoticize the environments in which they are made  Acknowledging the unlikeliness “that someone'll hear [his] recordings and dedicate themselves to some sort of ecological practice”... but also acknowledging the value of influencing people on a smaller scale - including himself. Though Andy states that he makes recordings for the enjoyment of hearing the more-than-human beings’ comings and goings, he also notes that listening to them has changed his own behaviour to the extent of affecting how he brought up his daughter The privilege of being involved in the Giving Contest organised with George Vlad and Thomas Rex Beverly: a call for donations for environmental causes, with nature sound recording bundles as prizes The way that spaces like the Amazon rainforest, which we think of as untouched wilderness, were affected by Indigenous, pre-colonial farming and water management: places where humans have in fact influenced ecosystems for thousands of years. More modern examples include the American bullfrogs which are

In this episode of Earth.fm’s Earth Is the Original Radio podcast - the first of a two-parter! - the site’s curator, Melissa Pons has a wide-ranging conversation with sound designer and field recordist Andy Martin. The insightful and granular conversation explored the following topics: Andy’s relationship with sound throughout his life and career, and what paths led to him dedicating himself to nature field recordings - taking in childhood illness, a love of the Star Wars score, involuntary mimicking of the sounds around him, and a desire for escape  Flirtations with piano, violin, and saxophone, which led to music school - where Andy experienced a shift from sound being something he played and listened to actively thinking about it as something with the power to affect the world via feelings and emotions Stumbling from film sound design into video games - different ways of using sound to tell a story  How being a stay-at-home father for three years allowed him to experiencing the world via his young daughter's curiosity, and how his desire to learn about the place of sound grew alongside his daughter Starting to record wildlife for computer games, but initially seeing these sounds as “assets” ‘Quietness’ and ‘silence’ and what people really mean when they search for places that offer these things. And what sites without industrial noise, inhabited by more-than-human life, have brought to Andy A nature field recordist's identity and its contradictions in a capitalistic system and in the context of ‘content creation’. How ADHD feels to Andy, and how his experience of the disorder affects his practice and his life - maybe chaotically, maybe beautifully Also: crows! Listen out for part two of the conversation, which will be released soon! Also, below are all of the references mentioned during this episode: Bernie Krause's acoustic niche hypothesis: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/269278107_The_Niche_Hypothesis_A_virtual_symphony_of_animal_sounds_the_origins_of_musical_expression_and_the_health_of_habitats Bernie Krause's book, The Great Animal Orchestra: https://eshop.fondationcartier.com/en/products/bernie-krause-and-united-visual-artists-the-great-animal-orchestra  Martyn Stewart: https://www.thelisteningplanet.com/alifeinsoundpodcast  Gordon Hempton's One Square Inch of Silence: https://onesquareinch.org/  Andy’s official website: https://soundeziner.com/  Andy's SoundCloud: https://soundcloud.com/soundeziner  And you can connect with Andy on LinkedIn https://www.linkedin.com/in/andymartinnaturesound/ and Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/andymartinnaturesound/.

A new turn around the sun and a new episode, this month’s guest being Chris Treviño, a field recordist and sound designer from Michigan with a background in anthropology and currently pursuing a Masters in Industrial Heritage and Archaeology, focusing on ways of knowing his own town through its sound across its history.  We’re talking about some aspects of sound as heritage and memory as well as its cultural value in which Chris conceptualizes the notion of sonic time capsule, how we humans relate to sound in different contexts and throughout time, and we also talk about his more recent project in the Isle Royale National Park in Michigan, where Chris spent almost two weeks recording while traversing the island by foot. Please find below all the references mentioned during our conversation: Video games composers: Yasunori Mitsuda and Nobuo Uematsu (the Chrono Cross and Final Fantasy series) Steven Feld - Voices From the Rainforest; the Kaluli people UNESCO heritage designations: https://www.unesco.org/en/lists-designations The Greek practice of the memory palace: https://artofmemory.com/blog/how-to-build-a-memory-palace/ Antônio Bispo dos Santos: https://futuress.org/community/antonio/ The Tonebenders Podcast episode with Chris: https://tonebenderspodcast.com/277-field-recording-for-the-national-parks-service-with-chris-trevino/ Isle Royale NP: https://www.nps.gov/isro/index.htm Chris Treviño SoundCloud: https://soundcloud.com/chrisatrevino Listen to the full recording of ‘Old Man and Grandson Watch Trains’: https://soundcloud.com/chrisatrevino/old-man-and-grandson-watch-trains Chris’ official website: https://www.chrisatrevino.com/Connect with Chris on LinkedIn https://www.linkedin.com/in/chrisatrevino and on X https://x.com/ChrisATrevino

Say hello to December with this month's episode, in which we welcome creative sound artist Jo Kennedy, co-director of Yorkshire Sound Women Network and co-producer of the Nature Tripping podcast!. Jo is a field recordist, sound designer, and audio producer who focuses on environmental and ecological projects. Together, we discuss Jo's path between environment and sound;, what listening - whether to anthropogenic sounds or predominantly natural ones - can potentially reveal; the power of novelty and curiosity in sound; rewilded soundscapes; graveyards; and more. It isn’t necessary to experience pristine natural environments in order to fulfil our potential for connecting with other living beings, whatever they may be, and we might find small patches of land near us which are very special. In addition, Jo and Cathy's podcast, - Nature Tripping - https://www.jokennedysound.com/naturetripping -, is wholeheartedly recommended, as is the article mentioned in the episode: ‘"Initiating Ecological Change Through Sound Art – a Review and Short Manifesto" - https://www.jokennedysound.com/blog/initiating-ecological-change-through-sound-art. And see what the Yorkshire Sound Women Network is all about and how you can get involved - https://yorkshiresoundwomen.com/ Thank you, Jo, for the wonderful conversation!

Hello and welcome back to the Wind Is the Original Radio podcast! We have been longing to return and are so happy to kick-start this new phase with David de la Haye, an award-winning ecological sound artist focusing on underwater aquatic environments. This episode is a fun conversation - both uncanny and down-to-earth - about listening to underwater sounds and the fascinating experience of recording them. Plus, collaborating to create music from his field recordings and some necessary gear talk. David’s work is informed by his experience as a bassist, composer, and music technician, and by the process of cooperation with other musicians. He shares about how these processes go for some of his latest projects, and about the value of gathering people to make music.Learn more about David and his work on his website, https://daviddelahaye.co.uk/, and consider supporting him on bandcamp: https://daviddelahaye.bandcamp.com/.

Recorded in the misty montane rainforest of Gunung Halimun National Park, this recording features subtle birdsong and the sounds of a distant mountain river. This location is one of the last truly wild places on the island of Java and home to a host of unique wildlife. Recorded by Marc Anderson at the Gunung Halimun National Park, Java, Indonesia

A place dominated and overseen by large feathered creatures, acrobatic corvids and smaller virtuosos. Nearer the ground, the arched-formations of rock provide a refuge to others, from doves with their splashing wing beat sounds to mammals like red foxes, whose sounds are amplified and travel like an upwards spiral. This amplification serves as a delicacy to my ears, bringing closer to my perception many tiny movements, many of which are hair-raising. Maybe it's merely the darkness operating its dominating power over us or perhaps it's this intriguing dance between near-silence and the appearance of nocturnal creatures - both animals and rocks, for the latter feel alive on their own. The easily heard species in this recording are the tawny owl (Strix aluco) and the Griffon Vulture (Gyps fulvus). This is a specially quiet recording, so an equally quiet listening is recommended. Recorded by Melissa Pons in Spain.

The breeze bring some freshness in the evening during the hottest month of the year. This is the time when wildlife gets out of the hides to feed. Recorded by Sounding Wild in Outamba Kilimi NP, Sierra Leone

Taman Negara is a large area of protected rainforest on the heart of the Malaysian peninsula and home to an abundance of wildlife including tigers, leopards and elephants. This recording features the sounds of a myriad of insects calling from deep in the forest at night. Recorded by Marc Anderson in Taman Negara, Malasya

Spring in the Pacific Northwest is typically a damp rainy season. Snowmelt from the Cascade mountains and frequent cloud cover causes streams, and rivulets to pop up along mountainsides swelling the rivers in the valleys. This particular valley, like many in the western cascade range, has many small marshy areas surrounded by tall evergreen trees. By April the nights are filled with sounds of the Cascades Frog and a persistent white noise from nearby flowing water. Lengthening days, a dawn chorus starts early and quiets down as a rain shower approaches. This region of Washington is the ancestral lands of the Stillaguamish People. Recorded by Nick McMahan, Washington, USA

I have a tradition of recording for the week around Summer Solstice every year. The long days and extended twilights draw out the liveliest and most expressive Dawn Choruses of the season. This year I’m in Sinlahekin Valley in Washington State’s Okanogan High Country. It’s a deep, long scar on the ground gouged and left behind by retreating arms of the Cordilleran Ice Sheets of the last several glaciated ice ages. Arid steppes on one side, fir-covered mountains on the other, the Valley draws a line that separates two of the major ecological regions in our State. Running much of the length of the Valley is Sinlahekin Creek, a meandering, beaver-controlled system that sustains a narrow strip of wetlands and riparian borders favored by passing migratory birds. Deep enough to not sustain strong wind, the Valley is a valuable shelter, sometimes for passing birds to rest, sometimes to stay. One of those birds is the Yellow-breasted Chat, a laconic-yet-vociferous songbird with a voice both louder and deeper than belies its small size. One of the more enigmatic songbirds of North America, the Yellow-breasted Chat is widespread across the continent but rarely found in dense numbers. It skulks about in dense riparian thickets and other shrubby habitats, nesting deep within and singing from a barely-exposed perch. More often heard than seen in late Spring and early Summer, when males produce long soliloquies in search for a mate (or sometimes two), they have a brief but explosively creative burst of song every year, only to remain silent for the rest of it. Recorded on Summer Solstice, 2024, this particular singer was a surprise. I had been hiking around one of my favorite valley campgrounds, enjoying the recent explosion of late-Spring songbirds, when I noticed a thicket that was particularly favored by local Lazuli Buntings. Nice Bunting recordings being a goal of this trip, I quickly set up a lightweight hiking recorder with a pair of small mics to leave overnight in hopes that Buntings could have time to sing as they saw fit. Imagine my surprise when listening back to the recordings and found more than an hours’ worth of a Yellow-breasted Chat singing close by, as if I’d set these microphones up just for him! Our Chat wakes up early in Nautical Twilight with a burst of whistles to rattle the neighborhood. After a brief rest, he begins his soliloquy of repeated grunts, rattles, beeps, and whistles. Soon, less than a minute later, the first distant songs of the next Chat over can be heard in the background. They space themselves out along the riparian border of Sinlahekin Creek just close enough to still be heard, far enough away to give each other space. While most birds sleep in and wait for more light, including Robins and Blackbirds, Nautical Twilight is their moment to sing. For most of the next two hours this little bird will sing from the same perch, only occasionally shifting directions as if he wants to be sure everyone has an equal chance to hear his voice. His voice grows louder and softer as he turns toward or away from the microphones. He’s so close the early reflections off the leaves of the thicket scatter his voice back to us loud and clear even when he faces away. With almost mechanical precision he continues his steady chanting song. As other birds awaken with the slowly breaking mountain dawn, the air fills with songs loud and soft behind — but never interfering with — the Chat. Soon there are cawing Crows, Black-capped Chickadees sweetly calling, “Phoee-be”, and Lazuli Buntings working out their unique and recently “crystalized” songs. A Veery sounds like a mournful flute the next hedge over. A Ruffed Grouse beats its wings with an almost too-low-to-hear “flah-thump”. Yellow Warblers, Red-eyed Vireos, Common Yellowthroats, and Spotted Towhees circle the neighborhood, calling from one tree, singing from another, never satisfied, at least not until Sunrise when everyone will disperse to live out the

Recorded in the Spring of 2022, this soundscape has all the indicators of a warm day: pollinators, a variety of crickets, occasional frogs and a rich multi-layered display of bird song. It's one of the quietest places I know, allowing an equally quiet observer to listen to all the layers and make up a sonorous composition of this place weaving it in one's imagination. These are the most prevalent bird species one can hear in this recording: Common Nightingale (Luscinia megarhynchos), Common Quail (Coturnix coturnix), Golden Oriole (Oriolus oriolus), Eurasian Collared Dove (Streptopelia decaocto), Eurasian Hoopoe (Upupidae), Corn Bunting (Emberiza calandra), Little Owl (Athene noctua). The Montado is an unique system, existing only in the Iberian Peninsula although slightly different from the Dehesa, in Spain. As far as we know, human intervention has started during the neolithic period, favouring certain trees for their high yielding fruits that feed the animals, and others for their cork. Despite such intricate connection and millennial relationship, the Montado is in decline; this system is incredibly fragile and faces a number of grave threats today, from diseases that affect trees and wild rabbits to overgrazing, to privatization of enormous areas of land for mono-crop exploitation, leaving the soil impoverished and triggering the increase of chemical use, which will then infiltrate underground. Thus it is imperative and urgent to take care of this emblematic land.

You can hear the tide slowly approaching in the distance, with activity from all sort of birds in this patch of green in one of the busiest islands of the Bijagos Archipelago. Recorded by Sounding Wild in the Bijagos Archipelago, Guinea-Bissau

Afternoon ambience from bushland in the New England tablelands region of New South Wales, Australia. A light breeze blows through the canopy of the eucalyptus woodland and in the background, birdsong drifts on the cool mountain air. Recording by Marc Anderson at the Mummel Gulf National Park, NSW, Australia

High and dry. There is hardly anything here. No water, no trees, just a small two-track (dirt road where people have driven enough times to form a road, but the ground has never been graded), and a distant horizon. The terrain appears endlessly flat, but after some time walking, I cannot see my car anymore. No towns, people, highways, or aircraft. A strange silence seems to be suspended in the still air. I sit down in the sagebrush and the wind calms. Looking closer I see various small wildflowers growing in clumps, thoughtfully placed near roots and sage. I lay down. It doesn’t feel dirty here. The dusty soil is cool, almost soothing. Eyes close, it is not long before a whir of wings pass not far overhead. Quickly followed by another and a hushed chirp. Something imperceptible has shifted. There is another soft chirp. Another whir, over to the left. Then a trill. Gradually building, a mesmerizing chorus of Brewer’s sparrows and a steady drumbeat of a common poorwill in the distance weave the song of this quiet sage land. These sounds were recorded on the ancestral land of the Northern Paiute people. Exceptionally low-noise microphones in various arrays capture the delicate sounds of the environment. If you would like to know more please get in touch. Recorded in the Basque Hills, Oregon, USA by Nick McMahan

Recorded in December 2023 on my first — but not last — trip through Costa Rica, a troop of Golden Mantled Howler Monkeys in Costa Rica’s Parque Nacional Corcovado greets the dawn and their neighbors (and the rest of the jungle) the only way they know how. Male mantled howlers have an enlarged hyoid bone, a hollow amplifying bone near their vocal cords that gives the ability to generate great “howling” calls that can heard for kilometers. Howling allows the monkeys to exercise territory and remain in contact without expending energy through movement or bearing the risks of physical confrontation. As someone who likes little more than sitting in a forest listening to nature speak, I approve of this lazing behavior. While this howling is their most well-known vocal characteristic, I’m rather fond of the popping and grunting that warms up to the howl and pads the time in between. It’s relatively quiet, and is most noticeable only when near the vocalizing howler. You can hear it throughout their first round of howling the beginning. After speaking with other recordists, I know I am far from alone as someone who loves their sound, but I may be one of the few that enjoys waking up to their calls. Every morning I heard this nearby was a morning I walked to breakfast with a big silly grin on my face. Neotropic birds come and go throughout the recording, but one persistent voice was the Yellow-throated Toucan, with a rhythmic, bouncing song that seems to carry on forever. There is at least one singing for most of this recording, and later, after the this first hour, a pair begin a duet. Also coming and going are raucous and noisy Scarlet Macaws and Red-lored Parrots, a lone Red-eyed Tree Frog, a visiting Little Tinamou, and more. I’m out of my depth when it comes to identifying neotropical birds, so I’ll let rest of the ecosystem speak for itself. Recorded by Andy Martin at Parque Nacional Corcovado, Costa Rica