Regenerating broadleaf at the edge of the forestry plantation. (Photo July 2021)
Finally, after many failed attempts, I've managed to get a reasonably good recording of the "churring" song of a European Nightjar, Caprimulgus europaeus. I heard one close by this location several years ago but at the time I was using a very directional microphone and the resultant recording was completely without context. It was fine for analysis of the call, but far from the kind of immersive soundscape that I'm seeking. Later, I played with overlaying a recording of the forest ambiance, but this kind of manipulation goes completely against my policy of capturing "actual" soundscapes, so it was little more than an experiment. Since then, I've found Nightjars in many places in Mid Wales, but on every occasion, I've beeen thwarted by the ever-present bleating of sheep! The Hafren forest is one of the very few areas of (occasional) pristine silence around here, and tonight I got lucky.
But things are never easy. After recording at the river bank, I was wandering aound the forest tracks at dusk when I suddenly heard a Nightjar strike up its eerie song closeby. I froze and hit the record button, but couldn't move away because I was tethered to the microphones with only a metre of cable and the sound recorder & headphones strung around my neck! So I just stood as still as I could, breathing through open mouth, in hope that I wouldn't be heard... That's when my stomach began to rumble! This isn't something that's normally a problem, but I'd just eaten a sandwich & gulped down some water, so obviously my digestive system was in full swing. At least I wasn't being bitten by gnats this time, as I was fully clad in mosquito net & gloves. I must admit that this was one of those "Is this really happening?" moments, with the lovely ambiance of stream and other birdsong enveloping the Nightjar's song in the stillness of the night. So I really wanted this to work.
The Nightjar paused briefly, allowing me just enough time to divest myself of my recording equipment and creep away. After that, it sang only briefly before an aircraft flew over drowning out everything. I continued to wander around and listen for an hour or so, but heard only one more very distant burst of churring; quite possibly the same Nightjar moving around its territory. By then, the other birds had stopped singing, too, and as I was away from the stream, all of the contextual elements I needed had been lost. But from the earier recording, after editing out my stomach rumblings, I got four minutes in total. With the ambient backdrop and trickle of the stream, it's just long enough to get a sense of place and allow oneself to be transported gently to the quiet forest at night.
Recorded: 2022-06-06 @ 2205LT
Location: 52.471249 , -3.7068828
Download full length recording:
4min, 7MB, .ogg format
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