Ah, it is so good to be home!

After our four month field trip in Turkey, Sweden and the UK, Sarah and I arrived back to our bush home last Wednesday evening. We were tired, but happy to be back in familiar surroundings.

We left one of the hottest summers on record in the UK, and arrived home to freezing cold nights. Our first morning dawned crisp and misty, with dew on every leaf, and the sun not coming through until mid morning.

Even at this very early point in the season, the birdsong is ebullient. This recording is of a mixed-species feeding flock moving through the forest on our first frosty morning home.

As we stood outside in the bush, breathing in the heady scent of eucalyptus, a small flock of Swift Parrots torpedoed out of the scrub past us. A lovely welcome home from these rare winter visitors!

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If that is so, then our field trip to Turkey will indeed be an adventure! With last minute distractions preventing us from researching our trip in detail, we shall just to have to let Turkey reveal itself to us.

The delights began as we flew in over the eastern Mediterranean, with good views of the snow-covered peaks of the Taurus mountains.

We’ve had a few days to acclimatise in Istanbul and see some of the wonders of this old imperial city. Sarah has taken some beautiful photos of the Haghia Sophia and Chora Church, and we’ve put some galleries of these on our facebook pages.
Sarah on Facebook
Andrew on Facebook

On Monday we pick up our hire car and begin the field work part of our trip. We’ll add blogs here as we go, and keep an eye on our facebook pages for updates too.

‘Till then, we’ve gotta go! …

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What I want to share with you here are two delightful drawings gifted to me by dear friends.

The first is a work by Prue McAdam inspired by a recent trip to Mutawintji National Park – a characterful portrait of two Apostlebirds.

You can see from this photo how well she has captured their quirky spirit!

Secondly, this playful illustration from Trefor Prest, a somewhat idealised representation of a morning recording birdsong. I wish it was always like this!!

Trefor is a talented sculptor, who’s imaginative work embodies a playful sense of fantasy and whimsy. I think you’ll enjoy taking a few minutes to view a gallery of his work on his website.

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We have now returned from several weeks in Western Australia, specifically to scatter mum’s ashes on Rottnest Island, where she had happy memories of summer holidays as a child. We also spent a week in Perth, catching up with mum’s extended family and friends, and being hospitably passed from household to household. It was an opportunity to renew ties, and for them to say their goodbyes too.

The scattering itself turned out to be an easier occasion than we had anticipated.

Sarah and I caught the ferry over to Rottnest, which lies about 18km off the coast of Perth. It is a beautiful island, however we’d been warned that it had become quite commercial. Whilst the development was obvious, we didn’t find it off-putting (although we weren’t there during the summer peak season!).

The settlement itself is heritage-listed, and we found the colonial-period limestone cottage where mum spent her summers was much as she would have remembered it. Cars are not allowed on the island, and it was interesting to observe that this seemed to foster a safe, holiday atmosphere. Gaggles of kids walk the streets and everyone cycles, creating a relaxed ambience refreshingly free of noise.

One of the highlights of Rottnest are the Quokkas (Setonix brachyurus), the very cute little native marsupials which abound there, and after which the island was named (being a derivation of the Dutch for ‘Rat’s nest’… well, Quokkas do look a bit ratty). These little critters are everywhere (there are an estimated 12,000 on the island), and whilst largely nocturnal, can often be seen during late afternoon and early morning, grazing quietly by pathways and hopping among bushes.

Shortly after we arrived, Sarah and I hired bicycles and rode up to The Basin, a sheltered swimming beach about 1km from the main settlement. As soon as we arrived, we knew this was the place mum had spent so many happy days in her childhood. We recognised it from her holiday photos, including one large rock she and her pals had been photographed behind, changing their bathers, mum bare-bummed and looking cheekily over her shoulder.

The following morning, we arose at first light and cycled up there, mum’s ashes carried in a small trailer behind. We joked to ourselves that her funeral cortège consisted of two bicycles, with me playing hearse, and a guard of honour consisting of contented Quokkas.

The tide was going out, the air was still, and we had the beach to ourselves. As the first rays of sun peeked over the horizon we said our goodbyes, and I sprinkled her on a retreating wave. We set her free. Sarah then spontaneously tossed in a string of seaweed, recalling the picture we had of her as a lanky 15 year old, garlanded like a mermaid.

As you can probably sense, it was a lovely occasion for us to remember, and a beautiful end for someone we love so much.

On our return journey through Western Australia and over the Nullarbor plain, we camped out, photographing and sound recording. A return to our old life, or the beginning of a new phase? We’ll have to see…

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There is a reason.

In May, Sarah and I left home to do some field work in NSW. On the way we dropped in to visit my mother in Sydney, who is 89 years old, very independent and lives in her own unit. Unfortunately we found her in very poor health, which she had been playing down a bit. We immediately moved in to care for her, and remained there for the following three months.

During those months, we progressed from caring for her, to being by her side during her final weeks in palliative care at hospital. She passed away peacefully in August.

It has been an extraordinary time for both Sarah and I; the heartache of seeing someone you love die, while being graced with so much love and support from family and friends.

So Listening Earth has been in ‘maintenance mode’ for a while. We moved our office up to Sydney, got the internet put on in mum’s unit, and have been keeping up with orders. But as you can imagine, we haven’t had a head for much else.

Having held a memorial service and cleaned up mum’s unit and affairs, we have finally returned home to Victoria. However we’re not done yet. Mum grew up in Perth, Western Australia, and she has many friends and family over there. So Sarah and I will shortly be setting off on a road trip to the west, which will culminate with us scattering her ashes in the Indian Ocean.

Despite all the intensity of the last months, we have had some time to think ahead to the future, both for ourselves and Listening Earth. We look forward to adding new features to our online shop, and delving into our library of recordings to create new albums. Next year we hope to get to Europe for our first taste of a boreal forest spring.

Shortly after mum passed away, I was able to go bush for a week to join the Australian Wildlife Sound Recordists for their biennial gathering, held this year at Gundabooka near Bourke. That short sojourn not only restored my spirits, but produced some wonderful recordings, the highlight being an outback dawn chorus that was one of the most musical I have experienced. And of course, it is still the spring season, and we hope to get some recordings from our upcoming journey to western Australia.

So we look forward to bringing you new sounds over our anitpodean summer. Until then, be well!

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Sarah and I have received many emails from concerned friends and customers, inquiring whether we’re well and safe. We are, thankfully, and we really appreciate your thoughts and concern. There have been no fires around our area, but it has been a terrible time for some people. The nearest fire to us has been in Bendigo, an hour’s drive to our north, where 2 people lost their lives and 50 homes were destroyed in a freak blaze, not in bushland but through the inner suburbs.

Sarah and I have actually been away from our bush home over the weekend, visiting friends in Melbourne, and for Sarah, attending a video editing training at Open Channel. It was only when we got down to Melbourne on Friday that we found out how bad the weather forecast was for Saturday.

Come Saturday and the weather was indeed frightening. It was like being in a forced-fan oven, with temps in the high 40s, winds gusting to 100kph, and humidity down to 1%! I kept an eye on the Country Fire Authority website all day, and phoned our neighbor Prue many times to find out what was going on at home. She assured me that, although the weather was indeed horrendous, everything was OK around our place. Not that we could have done much; if a fire had started it would have taken us 3 hours for us to drive back, even if we could get through with possible road closures. So the day was spent anxiously watching and hoping.

By Saturday afternoon, the Country Fire Authority seemed to be saying that while there were a multitude of localised fire incidents around the state, they were confident of containing them. However by early evening, that all changed. The fire that incinerated the township of Kinglake came as a complete surprise, surging 50km in a mere 15 minutes! People had no warning. Sarah and I were hearing it on ABC radio as it was happening. It was very personal for us because 15 years ago our first experience of living in the bush was in a little cottage nestled into the bush at Christmas Hills. It was only a few tens of kilometers from the fire area, and so we could vividly imagine what was happening.

That evening, we went back to Robin’s home in the Melbourne suburbs, and sat around talking and listening to the radio. We were about to pack up for the night and go to bed, when his phone rang. Half an hour later we had two extra families camping in the house; 3 adults, 3 kids, an 18 year-old dog and a cat. They had all evacuated from Warburton, which was under threat from ember attack.

Sunday and today, the temperatures have dropped significantly, which has given everyone some reprieve, but too late for many of course. Robin’s refugees returned home on Sunday and I think their homes were OK, although littered with debris. Meanwhile there are other friends of ours in danger areas we remain concerned about.

Sarah drove home Sunday evening, and after a dental appointment in Melbourne this morning, I returned by train this afternoon. It has been somewhat surreal for us, because we have witnessed it on TV and radio, but seen nothing except plumes of smoke on Melbourne’s northern horizon late Saturday. Walking around the city today, even riding by train through the countryside, everything appears normal. The devastation has been very localised, and extremely intense. The little village of Marysville, which we’ve been to many times, is totally destroyed. Toolangi forest, where we recorded the Sooty Owls and Lyrebirds heard on our ‘Tall Forest’ album, is tonight under threat from approaching fire-fronts. Many people have lost everything, not only homes but friends or family members. 3000 people are homeless, many having escaped with only the clothes they are wearing.

So it has been an awful few days, and it is not over yet. Several weeks of summer lie ahead in which the weather could warm up again. After 10 years of drought, the country is tinder dry. Today, even with cooler weather and abated winds, there are new fires burning, with several wildfires out of control around Victoria and NSW. We have had the radio on today, and there are still high alerts being issued, with communities under immediate threat.

The bush around our home is not as dense as the tall-timber forest where the fires have been so devastating. So we can only hope we won’t have to face a ‘perfect storm’ of weather conditions similar to the one that has brought about this tragedy.

Note: Photographs are not ours, but come from the ABC website c/o various agencies: www.abc.net.au

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Last spring, Sarah and I undertook a cycling journey through the outback of NSW. We conceived the trip as an opportunity to see whether we could do our recording field trips by bicycle.

But even before we set out, we could see it wasn’t going to be feasible. By the time we’d loaded gear and equipment, plus 30 litres of water to be self-sufficient in the desert, the sound-recording gear was just too much. So it stayed behind.

Which was just as well, as the trip turned out to be somewhat… rough, lets say. Sarah took the video camera along though, and our (mis)adventures are now immortalised in a short video which we’ve uploaded to Youtube. It may give you some mirth and amusement. ‘Mud, Sweat & Tears’ can be viewed here (click on the link at bottom right of YouTube screen to view in higher quality):
http://youtube.com/watch?v=0WL4eEsx8A8&feature=channel_page

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For most tourists, Longtails are no doubt part of the local cultural colour. But for a nature sound recordist, they are a peril, as the noise they create across open waters can be heard almost to the horizon. I had been forwarned to expect frustrating conditions if trying to record on any of Thailand’s islands.

Nevertheless, paradise has been everything we hoped for and more! We have just returned from the island of Kho Ngai off the western coast of Thailand, in the Andaman Sea – a picture postcard island of aquamarine waters, palm trees, coral reefs and pure white sand.

And we struck lucky. After a first somewhat disappointing experience visiting an eco-tourism resort on nearby Libong Island, we were searching for a bit of comfort and some concerted rest after our weeks in the jungles. Koh Ngai sounded like a potentially good place, away from the busier tourist haunts like Phuket, PhiPhi or Samui.

The resort industry in Thailand is difficult to predict though, with each resort pitching for their own slice of the market; locals or foreigners, daytrippers, travellers or package groups, from backpackers to exclusive. We decided to just lob into a cheap resort on the island for one night, and then check out the resorts for ourselves and decide which one to spend a few days at. We walked the length of the beach at dusk and began at the far end, with the first resort being a tastefully designed establishment with very friendly staff and beautiful rooms. It all looked very up-market, but curious to see what one’s money would buy, we enquired further. We were told only a few dollars more than the rather depressing place we were in. Completely oblivious to our good fortune, we proceeded to bargain them down a little.

It turned out that the resort was new, and not fully open as yet, so they were only charging half rate. All the staff were there, and the kitchen was turning out wonderful food. But the marketing had yet to be done, and it was low season, so they only had a few guests, and there were further building works anticipated. All of which we found out in the following days of lazing around and just enjoying not having to do anything.

After a few days, I found out about a track across to the other side of the island, and went exploring. I was not expecting anything much, as islands are not usually very rich habitats. But this island completely surprised me, and led to a few early mornings and some wonderful recordings.

There were many lovely bird species to be heard; imperial green pigeons (a favourite of mine for their gruff booming call), oriental pied hornbills, orioles, dollarbirds, and best of all, many white-rumped sharmas, one of the most beautiful songbirds in Asia. We’d heard them often in our travels, but here they were calling frequently, several birds singing from neighboring territories in extended melodic ramblings that combined together to form duets and trios. Just exquisite.

I also found the nocturnal insect chorus was very pleasant, with occasional coucals, barking geckoes, tree frogs and a scops owl adding to the atmosphere. Gentle waves rolled in on a nearby deserted beach, as sunbirds called from overhanging trees, allowing another opportunity for a nice recording. And through all this, only the occasional longtail disturbed proceedings.

I thought I was supposed to be having a holiday! Actually it has been. The recording was easy and fun, if a little humid. I must have looked a sight trooping back into the resort for breakfast in my jungle boots and pants, covered in sweat. Ah but, a few minutes and a shower later, and I’m in a sarong with a pineapple shake in front of me. That is not hard work.

So Sarah and I have had some lovely days just hanging out together. Even though we spend so much time together, to have time to ourselves like this has been very much needed. Half way through our stay, a group of westerners arrived for a yoga retreat, providing some interesting companionship and conversation for us, especially as Sarah is a trained yoga instructor.

In this last week, we have been feeling the presence of the approaching monsoon. Each afternoon the clouds have been piling up into spectacular thunderheads, and a few evenings have been illuminated by lightening storms. Our final night here the heavens have opened to a downpour. The frogs have loved it, and I’ve heard what I’ve often heard about; the tropical frog chorus after the first rains of the season – deafening!

Now we are back on the mainland. Not just the mainland, but a new country – Malaysia. After a few days in Penang (where we are now), we shall head down to the mountain forests of Bukit Fraser, a highlight birding spot in Malaysia. And not a longtail in sight.

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Last week we visited the ancient city of Kamphaeng Phet, only 100km from the border, and in the early morning light, walked around the ruins of temples built contemporaneously with Chartres Cathedral. At that time the city was seen as a frontier bastion against the incursions of the Burmese army. Eventually the invaders triumphed, and in the 1500s the graceful courtyards and serene stone buddhas of Kamphaeng Phet were abandoned to the jungle.

We often think of Buddhism as the most peaceful of religions. Yet here were two Buddhist nations at war. And it is still going on. The border area remains contentious and volatile, infamous for skirmishes and some serious smuggling.

I mention all this as an insight into Mae Wong National Park, from which we have just returned. The entrance road ascends through hills, once populated by tribal people but now deserted, terraced hillsides overgrown with tall grasses and returning to forest. After an hour of tortuous bends, we crest the final hill to arrive at a tiny campsite, and a view over wild forest to the west. On the horizon, Burma.

It is an odd national park, with its mosaic of primary forest and denuded hills, but being there it made more sense. Depopulating the area and administering it as a national park seems a practical way of stabilising a contentious border area. Whatever the reason for Mae Wong’s existence, it is a great place for us to record birdsong that is representative of what would be heard in Burma.

After researching this park using Google Earth, finding the isolated campsite on the satellite images and wondering what the surrounding forests would be like, it was exciting to actually be there. We had also read of the biting flies known as ‘khoon’ that are found at higher altitudes, and within a few minutes of our arrival, they made our acquaintance. Lovely little critters – they land and bite without you noticing, leaving behind a welt like a botched blood test, which supposedly will keep itching for the next month.

The forest itself was dense, and the only track through is the continuation of the road leading into the campsite. This road was once trafficable all the way on to Umphang some 40km away, but is now closed and being rapidly reclaimed by the forest. After only a short distance it became a tangle of vines, tall grasses and wild bananas. It was quite heartening, despite the brambles, to see how the forest is growing over what was once a bitumen road.

Our 3 days of recording at Mae Wong have been everything we hoped, with a huge diversity of birdlife including partridges, spectacular racket-tailed drongos, cute midnight-blue niltivas, sunbirds, laughing thrushes – all coming together each dawn to create a rich symphony of sound. We hope the recordings and photos do it justice.

Before Mae Wong, we spent a few days at Thung Salaeng Luang National Park in northern central Thailand, an area appreciated for its unique pine forests. Not what one would expect of Thailand, but to camp in an idyllic site under gently sighing pines, and in cooler weather, has been a welcome delight. And once again, both a rich source of natural sounds and beautiful sights.

Throughout the last week, we have been in the company of our good-hearted driver, Suchat. The minute he met us, we were informed that he was to be not only our driver, but our friend and bodyguard, as he had been a champion Thai kick-boxer winning international competitions in Japan. He has not only kept us laughing, but introduced us to exotic local cuisine based on ingredients we were not too sure we wanted to know about.

Now it is back to the big smoke. Actually, being the summer here, the whole country is clouded in the smoke of agricultural burn-off, making the air hazy and stinging the eyes. So Bangkok’s infamous pollution has some competition. From Bangkok (and a hopefully brief visit to the immigration dept to extend my incorrectly stamped visa), we anticipate heading south, down the Thai peninsular, and back to the gibbon forests that were our inspiration to visit here in the first place.

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For those of you placing orders during this time, Alison will be attending to inquiries and CD orders. She will be able to access emails daily, so if you have any questions or difficulties, just email her at our usual address: cooee@listeningearth.com.au

She will likely be in the office only once a week, so CD order dispatches may be slightly delayed. However all download orders are automated, so should process through as usual in real time.

A few friends have asked our rough itinerary, so here’s an overview…

This coming Thursday we fly to Bangkok, and the following evening catch an overnight train to the provincial town of Khon Kaen in the north of Thailand.

That’s the confirmed part of the trip over with, after this, we shall be winging it! After numerous efforts to organise treks, we’ve achieved little. We need to find good areas of jungle and be able to explore them at leisure, which just doesn’t fit the conventional trekking template. We’ve found ourselves in the too hard basket. So hopefully, we’ll either be able to achieve our ends without the logistics of a trek, or we’ll be able to arrange for park rangers to accompany us once we arrive at each park.

Nam Nao National Park is our first destination, a large and relatively little-visited park with areas of pine and deciduous forest. There is reported to be a good diversity of birdlife here, including barbets and woodpeckers in abundance.

From there we travel west, pausing at Sukothai, the ancient Siamese capital from around the 12th century, which has appealed to Sarah as somewhere she’d love to see. So we shall spend a few days cycling around exploring ruins and decaying stupas.

Our next park is remote Mae Wong, on the Burmese border. The mountains here are at the end of the Himalayan range, and we anticipate hearing many of the families of Himalayan birds we fell in love with in Nepal; yuhinas, fulvettas, minlas, laughing thrushes, babblers… We don’t know how we’re going to organise such practicalities as feeding ourselves, because our destination is a tiny campground deep in the park. There is a ranger station, but no facilities, so we shall have to stock up on bananas! Having read about this campground, we have found it amazing to use Google Earth to locate it exactly (16º60′00.00″N, 99º06′28.68″E). I can even see the patch of grass we’ll be pitching our tent on!

Thailand’s peninsular forest parks present us with a bit of a conundrum. Initially we thought Kaeng Krachan, not far from Bangkok, would be at risk of noise pollution from flight paths. However our research into Khao Sok, further South near Phuket, indicates it will be a less pristine location for many reasons. So KK it may well be. Once again, there is a campground deep in the forest that may make an excellent base camp. More bananas.

In the Andaman Sea to the west of Thailand, are a group of islands protected as a marine national park. Kho Tarutao is one of the largest and least disturbed offshore islands in this part of the world, and I would like to see whether there is some good recording to be had there. In particular I’m fascinated by the Nicobar Pigeon, an extraordinary all-black ground pigeon with iridescent plumes. Maybe we’ll come across them there.

But really, the Andaman Sea; coral, beaches, tropical sunsets, fresh seafood…

Then back to work. Malaysia. Specifically, Taman Negara, famed not only as peninsular Malaysia’s largest and most precious nature reserve, but one of the world’s oldest rainforests, growing undisturbed for 160 million years. And, in contrast to the more monsoonal forests of Thailand, this really will be rainforest. Gibbons, hornbills, pittas, exotic birds galore! And leaches, apparently.

There are a few other Malaysian parks we may visit if time allows, such as the lowland rainforest of Endau Rompin. For the last week or so, we shall be visiting friends in the wilds of Singapore, and believe it or not, I am planning on recording there. Whether that will amount to anything other than distant traffic and aircraft flyovers, we shall have to see. But Singapore sounds an amazing place that neither of us have been to, so we are looking forward to it.

So that concludes our projected two months. We hope to be able to upload a few posts here as we travel.

Till then, be well!

Andrew & SarahTweet