It seemed like it would never come. After months and months of snow and ice, spring finally appears to be here. And after a wet winter and spring, the plants and animals are responding with vigor. I can’t keep up with the lawn and weeds in my yard, but I’m still pleasantly surprised when I look out the window and see lush green instead of white.
It’s been difficult to get out for sound recording, as many areas are still buried in snow, or roads are very rough or impassable from snow and water damage. But I have managed to take a couple of trips to record early spring soundscapes with more trips planned for upcoming weeks. My first trip was to the western Sierra foothills near Georgetown. I visited the area in early April last year, when bird activity was just getting started. This time, I visited in late April, and thought I’d find the plants and birds a little further along. When I arrived at the campground, I was surprised to see how much damage the storms had done to the trees in the area. Many trees had broken tops or branches and quite a few had also fallen over. The plant phenology was behind where it was a year ago, even though I was there almost 3 weeks later. Very few flowers were out yet and things were just greening up. The birds seemed to be at about the same stage as last year, that is, the males had arrived and were singing, but there was no obvious signs of nesting yet. Unlike last year, where the dawn soundscape was dominated by robins and warblers, this time was dominated by black-headed grosbeaks (both of the recordings that follow are best listened to with headphones).
The weather was perfect, and I spent a couple of lovely mornings listening to the birds singing and the breeze in the trees, while enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face. There was a large group of campers on the other side of the campground with a couple of barky dogs that interrupted my bliss, but that’s the way it goes. It was so nice to be out of the snow and cold.
Camp in the pines, April 2023
I headed south in late May to a Nature Conservancy Preserve near Beatty, Nevada, at the northern edge of the Mojave Desert. I participated in an expert BioBlitz, a congregation of scientists who try to inventory as much biota as they can in 48 hours. I set up some audio recorders, as well as wandered around with my binoculars, and contributed information on birds and amphibians. The massive wildflower bloom that covered the deserts this spring was starting to fade, but it was still breathtaking to see so much color in an otherwise stark area.
The Mojave Desert in bloom, May 2023.
The weather was a bit windy, with nearby thunderstorms firing up some large dust storms. I was glad I could hide in my car, while other biologists were out setting small mammal traps and mist nets and audio recorders for bats amidst the blowing sand and dust. When the storms faded away, I was able to set up my recording equipment again. I managed to get a nice pre-dawn recording of some nice counter-singing by some western kingbirds, accompanied by Virginia rails, Sierran tree frogs, red-winged blackbirds and the trilling of lesser nighthawks.
A pair of western kingbirds survey their territory, May 2023
When I left Beatty, I headed north to do some recording at some of my favorite spots in central Nevada. The desert was so full of color, with entire hillsides covered in dark orange globe mallow. The first spot in the Toiyabe Mountains was inaccessible because the normal trickle of a stream that you need to cross to get there was a raging river. The road to the second spot in the Toquima Mountains was closed due to washouts. I ended up driving all the way around the mountain range to approach it from the east side. The road on that side still had some washouts, but they were manageable in my CR-V. So I spent a lovely, cool night at 8,000 feet in the mountains, with only a brief rain shower and a few jets to mar the incredible silence. I had left a microphone out, which survived the rain, only to discover the placement was wrong and all the birds were too far away to make a good recording.
Clouds build up over the high Toquimas, May 2023
The Desatoya Mountains to the west were my next destination. I arrived early and did some exploring, only to find more washouts and stinky dead cows (including one stuck in a cattle guard – that was gruesome). I drove the badly rutted road up to the Big Den trailhead and found a nice campsite. I spent a nice afternoon listening to the creek and the birds, and watching the sun descend into a lovely sunset.
Sunset from the Desatoya Mountains, May 2023.
I set a couple of mics out, even though I knew the recordings would probably be swamped by the sound of the rushing creek. I didn’t want to set the mics too far away from camp in case it decided to rain. Sure enough, I was awakened a little after midnight by the patter of raindrops on the roof of the car, and had to make a dash through the sagebrush by flashlight to recover a microphone that wasn’t waterproof. Of course, as soon as I pulled the gear in and got settled back in the car, the rain stopped and the skies cleared. At first light, I put the mics back out, but as I suspected the stream was too loud to make a decent recording. But it was a lovely place to camp. After a leisurely breakfast surrounded by the sounds of the stream and the birds, I packed and headed home. I think I’ll give the road crews a chance to finish fixing the roads before I head out again.
A burro amid wildflowers below snow-covered Toiyabe Mountains, May 2023