Large wildfires are once again uncontrollably threatening much of the intermountain west in North America. Just 5 miles/ 8 km from the oncoming edge of the Cub Creek fire here in Washington is one of my most favorite places to record anywhere. Thirtymile Meadows is one of the very few places I know of in the continuous 48 United States that is neither rainforest nor remote island where I can set up my microphones, press record, and expect a soundscape free of human-generated noise for at least 4 hours to be the result. Sometimes it can be up to nearly a day. There are plenty of places I can get away from ground-based vehicles, but Thirtymile has the magic of not being under continually active flight paths. No vehicles. No aircraft. Nothing but birds, coyotes, and me.
This was a little more than a month ago, the morning of Summer Solstice. It’s merely an excerpt.
This is my last Long Swamp post. I promise. My last Long Swamp post from 2019-07.
As I mentioned in last night’s Dusk post, I’ve fallen in love with the mountains of the Okanogan. The wet meadows, swampy bogs, dense forests, deep riparian zones, grassy ridge tops, and more are perfect for finding sonically rich, naturally quiet locations. Most of the special places are difficult to reach from Seattle, but that’s fine by me. It means more opportunities to record with without interruption.
Just a few miles away and a little farther up the mountains from Thirtymile Meadows can be found Long Swamp, a very large, highly biodiverse wetland complex. Like the wet meadows, swamps in this area form through the collection of meltwater of the preceding winter. Unlike the shallow bowls of the meadows, though, the swamps form in the shallow creased valleys between rising prominences. Sometimes the water drains away into a creek at the end of the of the valley, but they are just as likely to simply seep slowly into the topsoil to re-appear elsewhere as a natural spring. Long Swamp does both.
Thirtymile Meadows is a wet, subalpine meadow high in the Okanogan National Forest. A natural shallow bowl, it collects meltwater from each winter and slowly drains away through innumerable soft tinkling streams. In such a wide open space it can be difficult to know where to point microphones. When I visited in the Summer of 2019 I was never certain where the next morning’s dawn chorus would arrive from. Past migrant season there was no consistent resting place for the wildlife every night.
Filled with chipmunks, Hermit Thrushes, Olive-sided Flycatchers, Lincoln’s Sparrows, White-crowned Sparrows, Woodpeckers, Ravens, Clark’s Nutcrackers, American Robins, and more, the meadow is a feast for the eyes and ears of the quiet observer.
Hey all! I’ve been busy working on the next couple of releases. In the meantime, I thought I’d offer a little something for y’all to listen to.
I feel fortunate to have been able to record over an hour of unbroken natural sound in the Olympic National Forest at the Snider-Jackson trail head. Starting during Civil Twilight, sun rises in this recording around the 30 minute mark, although the Thrushes were awake and active long before then. Robins, Varied Thrushes, Flycatchers, woodpeckers, squirrels, Pacific Wrens, and more fill these moss-covered woods to the background wash of the Calawah River.