Dawnsong of Robins in the Black Sea Mountains of Turkey by Listening Earth

During our time in Turkey, we have often found recording a good variety of birdsong difficult and perplexing. Forests where we anticipated symphonies of birdsong were eerily quiet, or we’d find birds singing heartily, only to realise we were hearing species found commonly throughout Europe.

At times like these we’d console ourselves with our antipodean ignorance (as in; we don’t know this place yet, we’ll find where the birds are with experience…), and the anticipation of finishing our trip on the Black Sea coast, an area with a variety of unusual species and dense primal forests.

Well, we’ve finally arrived at the Black Sea coast, and in terms of forest, it is everything we’d hoped it would be.

The coast and the mountain spine that runs behind it attracts abundant rainfall, and as we drove up into one of the many valleys that lead up into the range, we passed through a landscape devoted to tea plantations. Houses and small villages could be seen perched high on precipitous hill slopes, accessible only by tracks that must have been built for donkeys not vehicles.

Deeper into the valley, the tea plantations gave way to dense deciduous woodlands. Huge old trees clung on slopes, moss hung on everything, and the forest understory was dense and impenetrable – even if one could climb the slopes.

However we soon realised that the rainfall that gave rise to these wonderful forests was to create a difficulty in recording here. Every valley, no matter how minor, had a raging torrent of white water running through it, and the roar of rivers echoed everywhere. As evocative as this was to experience, the roar would obliterate any birdsong.

So our challenge was to find a recording spot away from the river, without following donkey tracks up the mountains.

Eventually we found ourselves high on a hillside above a lake, the only still water in the whole valley. Setting off well before dawn, we walked deep into the forest, following a barely discernible foot track in the dark. Traversing steep slopes and climbing granite outcrops, we eventually found a mossy shoulder of less steep ground, and set up to await the dawn birdsong.

The forest we were in was wonderful; old and dense, a mixture of deciduous and conifers. After the effort, the eventual dawn chorus was a mixed pleasure; disappointing because it consisted of common species rather than any unusual ones, but enjoyable because the combination of their voices was delightful.

Listen to the delicate, rippling cadences of Robins, the disyllabic calls of Coal Tits, and the insistent song of Wrens, as the ever-present river in the valley below forms a backdrop.

Tweet