Wetlands are one of the trickiest habitats to record because most lie exposed to winds, which easily distort a recording. And when the air is calm, the excellent sound propagation allows not only natural sounds (from other habitats) to arrive from miles away but also unwelcomed noise pollution. But with careful planning and favorable luck wetlands recordings will be among your favorites – sonically diverse and ever-changing with the arc of the sun, and offering great signal strength to avoid that annoying hiss caused by high gain settings. If you’re willing to accept the challenges, be patient, and reap your just desserts.
As used here, acoustic wetlands include all fresh and brackish water bodies without audible flowing water, logically, occupying the lowest relative terrain. This would include fresh water marshes, swamps, ponds, and lakes, as well as isolated places such as desert springs. This is different than ecological wetlands. Wetlands are aptly named, because to make outstanding recordings, you’ll want to study the water more than the surrounding land.
WATER
Water is essential for life on earth. Virtually any body of water is a magnate for life. While wetlands are rich in wildlife, the water itself creates a layer to the concert hall that exceeds all other flooring for sound propagation. When the air is calm, still water is highly reflective, so sounds will efficiently bounce off the surface of the water, adding a captivating spaciousness to your recording. But that’s not all.
As a sound wave reflects off the surface of cold water, entering a warmer air layer above, the sound wave will speed up and bend back down again. This repeats the cycle. The net outcome is that instead of sound radiating outward and vanishing away from your microphones, the sound is trapped in a sound propagating air layer and travels further and louder to your microphones. Perhaps you have heard fishermen a mile from lakeshore carry on what they think is a private conversation. This is a common occurrence at temperate latitudes on a spring morning when the water is colder than the sunlit air.
RIPPLES
Another special feature of wetland water is that it serves as a very effective source of audible and inaudible information gathered by wildlife. I have sat beside many a wetland to watch the water ripples deliver their messages effortlessly to all corners of a small lake. The slightest breeze, the shallow water step of a coyote, the splash of a fish, all send out faint water waves and sound waves in every direction. Wetlands are difficult places for privacy, as almost any movement goes detected. Your first goal when arriving at a wetland to record is to emulate the native wildlife and be still. And listen.
Just sit at the water’s edge and listen with eyes and ears. Let these companion senses merge while you resist the urge to think about the place – simply take it all in. After 20 minutes of being still in this way, it should be clear to you just how different this locale is from any place where you have recorded before. Each place makes a music of its own. Your job is to listen to this constantly shifting concert, changing seats as often as you’d like, until you finally find a spot that irresistibly claims your attention. Setup here and let your gear run for at least one hour, unless, of course, you find that you have miscalculated for wind screens or insect barriers. Then stop and make the necessary modifications.
SPRING
Spring is my favorite time of year. More sunlight falls in temperate latitudes than falls on the equator in a single day during this time of year (and for months to come), and earth’s solar powered juke box booms out its loudest tunes. A cacophony of birdsong and calls will often rise with the sun to dazzling levels. This raises an interesting question about how birds filter out “junk mail” during these high times of messaging. It’s a bit like carrying on a conversation with a friend at a cocktail party – you understand what your friend is saying only because you identify her voice and filter out the background din. Wildlife species have evolved definable voices, and just as hunters can choose between scatter vision or scan for a search image, wildlife listen similarly, expanding and contracting attention.
LOCATION
Let’s delve deeper into choosing your first recording location. As discussed elsewhere in this guide, start by assessing possible locations by searching wetlands land inventories on the Internet. There are lots to choose from, but only a few are sufficiently large, and because of the great distances sounds travel in these habitats, you will want to consider only the largest ones. Now check aviation charts to confirm a relative lack of air traffic, then use Google Earth to examine adjacent land uses for the possible presence of noise pollution. Finally, with some potential spots in mind, make some calls to the local land management agency and pick their brains. As mentioned before, offer them a copy of your post visit recordings for them to use either for interpretive centers or for census work. It is not uncommon for doors to open magically, suddenly providing you 24/7 access to restricted areas.
You will want to ask specific questions, like: How far to the nearest paved road? When is hunting season? Is fishing popular? Are researchers active in the area, and do they use vehicles? Many wetland areas have multiple land use designations and even on national wildlife refuges you could encounter gas pipelines and oil wells hissing and booming.
Whatever location you finally decide upon you can be certain that, if no people are there, no people are there for a reason. Learn of any potential dangers before you go. Inquire about poisonous snakes, contagious diseases, and quagmires that will sink your vehicle past the hubcaps.
JUST SAY’N…
Twenty-five years ago I was driving the back roads of Georgia, window down, my Toyota 4×4 pickup loaded with gear, eying the mangrove trees. It was early April, warm, and in the fading light I heard frogs like I had never heard them before – rather like rapid chirping of a flock of birds. The swelling chorus was alluring. I immediately grabbed my gear with no other thought than, “I‘ve got to have this.”
I had no intention of staying the night in this mangrove swamp, but time passed quickly, and before I knew it, it was pitch black. I expected my headlamp to show my truck’s reflectors, because I knew it had to be close – but none could be seen. I felt a growing wave of panic, then steadied myself, and made a false assumption. The truck had to be this way…
It wasn’t. And after tromping through the swamp for only a few minutes, sinking nearly to my knees in mud I finally accepted that I was irrevocably lost and would have to spend the night there with any resident alligators.
Lesson learned and Miracle Shorts created. I bought myself a pair of Filson double-tin pants sewn from two layers of thick canvas penetrated with paraffin and the sheen of metal. I cut them off to make shorts and repurposed the cut-off fabric, plus leather, and copper rivets to make pockets to hold everything I would need to survive alone in the wilds should I be so foolish to get lost again. Flashlight, compass, pocket knife, fire starter, map, pen, insect repellent, handkerchief, meal bars, and water purification tablets. These fully loaded shorts now needed wide suspenders to support them. The whole shebang was stiff enough that when I turned in at night they stood by themselves in curious sentry next to my sleeping bag, waiting for me to step into them, fireman style the next morning, ready to record safely in the wilds at a moment’s notice.
Author wearing Miracle Shorts
SWAMPS
My favorite wetlands are swamps. In addition to all of the characteristics of water already mentioned, swamps often have trees that provide an evocative wood-toned reverberation. Plus, they are not nearly as susceptible to wind disturbances as most other wetlands. This means that great recordings can be made during most hours of the day, as well as twilight and night when most habitats are calm. An owl a quarter mile away will sound an arm’s length away. A bird-voiced tree frog 100 feet distant will sound three strides away. Swamps act like natural audio processors.
Many swamps and swampy areas operated as public parks now have boardwalks which make access in the early morning hours, when the public is absent, convenient.
I find the best recording position is almost always right at the water’s edge, within a few feet (if not inches) above the water. This position capitalizes on the unique, sound-capturing air layer just above the water’s surface. To determine the exact position before setting up for a long session, hand hold your microphone and quickly move it around, panning without conscious thought. Go with gut feelings. Remind yourself that you should not be listening for a sound, just listening to the place. Every sound has an emotion, just feel your emotions and settle on the one you like best.
Now set up your tripod, snap your microphone system into place, uncoil your cable, and get comfortable.
Turn up the gain and listen to the most distant sounds. A thrumming highway? Fishing boats? Chainsaws, ATV’s, air traffic… the rogues gallery of noise polluters is varied. Since noise or sound levels only decrease by 6 dB for each doubling of distance, escaping noise pollution by relocating is unlikely, unless you are ready to drive another 50 miles and begin all over. The best you can hope for is that the noise pollution will diminish at certain times of the day, and if you’re more fortunate, disappear altogether for reasonable intervals.
SONIC DIVERSITY
As mentioned in previous articles, diversity of plant species and vegetation structure translates into diversity of sound events. This also applies to wetlands. The still, open water directly in front of your microphone will add clarity and register shore laps that will help interpret any distant wind sounds that will be otherwise difficult to discern. I’ve found it rewarding to mount my microphone system on the front of a canoe or kayak and simply drift.
INSECTS
Insects are a natural and important part of wetlands. But mosquitoes raise an interesting question for the field recordist. Not only are they terribly annoying for the recordist, but most audiences wince at the mere sound of a single mosquito. Don’t be surprised if your client rejects your work if mosquitoes are present. To make a recording without mosquitoes in a wetland is like trying to record a football game without crowd noise. Fortunately, you can minimize the presence of mosquitoes in your recording by selecting the optimal time of year and time of day, and by housing your microphone setup inside a large net that restricts mosquitoes from getting too close. Another strategy is to consider the wind your ally, as even the slightest breeze soon after sunrise will ground these ultra light insects, just as the birds begin to sing. The same is true just after sunset before the winds subside and the frogs begin to croak. Timing and nets are your best counter measures. Do not apply insect repellent to your gear – you run the risk of ruining it! In fact, I suggest that you avoid insect repellent entirely, or if you must rub it on your exposed skin, be sure to wash your hands with alcohol wipes before touching your equipment. Have gloves, long-sleeved shirts, and a head net handy, or, if need be, retreat to your vehicle. If you’re running a long cable, use larger-wire cables to keep the impedance down and preserve the higher frequencies which otherwise would be lost with normal wire size cables.
The good news that insects feed fish, as well as serving other essential ecosystem functions, and fish splashes make good attention grabbers.
WHAT IF…
Finally, when setting up around water you must always consider the possibility that your equipment might take a plunge. What if it does? Your biggest challenge is to get it dry without causing oxidation of the circuitry. I have heard various recommendations, but here’s what I’ve learned to do. (Yes, I’ve suffered this mishap, too.) Press your backup recording equipment into service. When you have finished your recording session for the day, return to your soaked equipment and begin to open it up, while spraying it with a can of compressed air similar to what is used for dusting off computers and photographs. Compressed air is very dry. Remove as much of the water as possible, then place your equipment on top of a heater until you see no sign of moisture. (It is important that the heater is very low, only the amount of heat given off by two 60 watt incandescent light bulbs. If you are near a wildlife research station they may have a plant dryer, which will work perfectly.) Then reassemble your equipment and fire it up. It will either work or not. If it doesn’t work, you can send it in for servicing, but this equipment may never be completely trustworthy again. So if you feel uncertain about the safety of your equipment around water – don’t use your newest and best gear. Reach instead for your B Team, the stuff that is nearing retirement. My B team recordings have produced some of my most valued recordings simply because they are from risky positions most recordists might avoid, like off-shore recordings of trout jumping in close perspective.
Keep equipment dry.
SUMMARY
Wetlands are tricky places to record due to exposure to the winds, but if you do your research to find the right location and position your microphones within the boundary layer above still water, these recordings will quickly join your Favorites list. Go prepared to avoid getting lost and use your less valuable equipment for any risky positions — now versed that it is there where you might capture something truly unique.
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