I camped out off Brewton Road near Colockum Pass for the first night. Falling asleep to the sounds of distant lowing cattle. In the morning I awoke to the mellow “poor-will-low” of a Common Poorwill and the distant “peents” and later the croaking “booms" of Nighthawks. Both Poorwills and Nighthawks are crepuscular members of the Nightjar family. I’ve gotten used to hearing both for a short time after everyone else has roosted for the night or just before dawn, but until recently I hadn’t been able to readily identify either. I like to think of Poorwills as the alarm clocks of the scrublands: I always hear them first, and the chatter of other morning birds always starts as an annoyed “wassat?” shortly after. Fun fact: the Common Poorwill was the first scientifically-identified hibernating bird, although the indigenous Hopi peoples knew it for far longer and called it “hölchko” or “The Sleeping One."

As mellow as the Poorwill is, the Nightjar loudly makes its presence known, not with calls or song, but with loud croaking “booms” made by its wings when pulled in for a dive. When I first heard Nighthawks in the field I thought it was a sick Raven or aggressive distant bullfrog (flying bullfrog?). Indeed, they are sometimes known as “bull-bats” as they often are found feeding in the dark with the mammalian fliers.

Other singers throughout the chorus include Juncos, Creepers, Woodpeckers, Yellowthroats, Chickadees, Swallows, Sparrows, Waxwings, and even a daylight-confused Owl around the 28 minute mark.

Geophony: rocky shrub steppe with mixed grasses and vegetation, some stands of Ponderosa Pine

Temperature at start: 48°F

Humidity: 67%

Pressure: 29.98" and steady

Wind: 3mph from ENE

Anthrophony: Recordist

Giant three-bladed wind turbines dominating the landscape of the Wild Horse Wind Facility in Kittitas County, WA. The facility provides on of the main entrances to the Colockum Wildlife Area and Naneum Ridge, so I stopped to record on my way through. Pictures don't do their size justice. Each blade in the length of a 747, so just imagine three jetliners spinning around overhead and you have an idea of what's going on here.

Giant three-bladed wind turbines dominating the landscape of the Wild Horse Wind Facility in Kittitas County, WA. The facility provides on of the main entrances to the Colockum Wildlife Area and Naneum Ridge, so I stopped to record on my way through. Pictures don't do their size justice. Each blade in the length of a 747, so just imagine three jetliners spinning around overhead and you have an idea of what's going on here.

Part of my occasional "Will It Whoosh" mental warm up, where I take 10 minutes to put something on a string and twirl it in front of a microphone to see if it'll whoosh.

A squeaker (as you would find in a giggle tube or a stuffed animal), on some monofilament fishing line (not the best choice as monofilament is kind of whistle-y).

Does it whoosh: yes

Download it. Use it. Let me know.

Part of my occasional "Will It Whoosh" mental warm up, where I take 10 minutes to put something on a string and twirl it in front of a microphone to see if it'll whoosh.

A squeaker (as you would find in a giggle tube or a stuffed animal), on some monofilament fishing line (not the best choice as monofilament is kind of whistle-y).

Does it whoosh: yes

Download it. Use it. Let me know.

Part of my occasional "Will It Whoosh" mental warm up, where I take 10 minutes to put something on a string and twirl it in front of a microphone to see if it'll whoosh.

A squeaker (as you would find in a giggle tube or a stuffed animal), on some monofilament fishing line (not the best choice as monofilament is kind of whistle-y).

Does it whoosh: yes

Download it. Use it. Let me know.

Part of my occasional "Will It Whoosh" mental warm up, where I take 10 minutes to put something on a string and twirl it in front of a microphone to see if it'll whoosh.

A squeaker (as you would find in a giggle tube or a stuffed animal), on some monofilament fishing line (not the best choice as monofilament is kind of whistle-y).

Does it whoosh: yes

Download it. Use it. Let me know.

Similar to 01 in this series, this is more of that “twittery-pop” call… but… more.

This is from a raven that settled somewhere around 50 ft above above me (and some distance away) and proceeded to make this brilliant “twittery-pop”. I knew the “pop” was a common raven call that varied with location and population, but I’d never heard anything like the long trilling twitter made before the pop. A few times after the “pop” you can hear it either gulp or beak snap. The twitter and beak snap are just reminders that the raven really is North America’s largest songbird.

The recording’s a bit noisy because of distance and the oyster-hatchery across the bay, so I’ve included a noise-reduced version first that enhances the details, but loses some of the beautiful reverb of the trees. The original recording follows.

Ravens and crows never cease to amaze me with the range of vocalizations they have beyond the mere “wonk-wonk" and “caw-caw” we normally think of them having. They have a high degree of intelligence and communication ability. I really wish I could sit in on a translation of these birds and hear what they have to say, “There’s a weirdo down their with a microphone.” “Yeah. I saw.”

Just your typical Saturday-evening raven conversation. “Hi there!” “Hey there!”