Is It Noise or Not Noise?

 

It’s July 1st, and the 2021-22 COVID academic year is eight weeks behind me. When I returned to the forests, meadows, and wetlands in May, I began my homecoming process by simply going to places I thought might be adequately quiet for listening and recording. That’s not very easy, of course, since there’s noise almost everywhere. Most of it is generated by humans, and some of these sounds are more disturbing to me that others.

So what is noise, what’s not noise, and what falls somewhere in between? It's somewhat subjective, and I hadn’t thought about it more specifically until now. I know noise when I hear it, and it’s almost everywhere.

I'll start in the backyard.

Wendy and I have a little woodland understory backyard in an old, inner-ring suburb of Cleveland. There are large pin oaks that provide abundant shade and acorns, and we expect that there are various caterpillars up in the leaves that are providing live bird food. We’ve planted smaller native trees and shrubs to create the understory and have ferns and an assortment of native plants creating layers of green broken only by wood chip paths and rocks. Birds are numerous, not surprisingly, as well as various cricket species, a couple of katydid species, and an assortment of other insects.

                                           There's a lot of life in this backyard

Sadly, I seldom record here. There is human-generated noise at almost any time of day and night. You know many of these sonic offenders: the roaring lawnmowers, whining weed whackers, and bellicose blowers of various sorts. Night brings unnecessarily loud motorcycles and cars plus necessary sirens for police, fire, and ambulance. Firecrackers – periodically including those that shake windows – startle people and other animals from late spring through at least October. Private and corporate jets destined for the county airport scream so low overhead that I can see the lights and landing wheels. 

There's typically more noise than I can edit out of any recordings I might make. It didn't used to be so obtrusive, but the noise level has increased significantly in the past 25+ years.

Even the closest park area I could call a “local patch” has a chronic problem with extensive processions of obnoxiously dominating motorcycles that obscure all sounds of nature along the road paralleling the river. It's a beautiful location that's full of birds, frogs, and singing insects, but noise from the motorcycles and cut-through traffic and from the air traffic to the Cuyahoga County regional airport make recording frustrating. (The one human-generated noise I forgive is the train whistles in the distance. I did state earlier that it's rather subjective.)

               North Chagrin Reservation, Oxbow Lagoon area, Cleveland Metroparks

So I often take my recording equipment out to the more rural parks and preserves, hoping it’s quiet enough to make some rather nice recordings for my programs and blog posts. I may have to do a certain amount of editing, but at least it seems possible…

…unless- or really, until the inevitable jet approaches. There’s no way to eliminate that wide range of frequencies from a recording. All I can do is wait impatiently, hoping the jet and the long trails of sound behind it will be gone before the bird or insect moves or stops singing.

Although I get frustrated and disgusted, noise significantly impacts the birds. This is how they communicate, especially when they can’t see each other. This is how many young birds learn the songs of their species. Males impress females with their virtuosity and repertoire.They challenge and set boundaries with other males of their species with their songs. Young birds need to learn their songs by ear – if they can hear the adults’ songs well enough to imitate them. For me, not hearing the songs clearly is angering, frustrating, and deeply sad. But for the birds, it affects their survival.

So how should I define noise? Is it everything humans do that affects birds, amphibians, and singing insects’ ability to be heard - and affects other humans as well? 

I recently drove almost 40 miles east to the Geauga Park District’s Observatory Park east of Chardon with hope that I'd find enough quiet to hear the bird song repertoire clearly.

 

At first, it seemed like it should be possible. There was no one around- just a couple of cars plus a few trucks on the road involved in some kind of maintenance work. I started walking and listening, and I was eventually able to record a Hooded Warbler in the foreground with an Eastern Wood Pewee in the background, If you look at the sonogram, you can see the distinct shape of each bird's song

But there was an unnatural droning sound that I couldn’t overlook in the background. I heard it when I was recording the Ovenbird, too. 

What was it and where was it coming from, anyway?

I finally tracked it down. It was a tractor! That’s one I don’t hear in the city, though some of the landscaping companies that come around have riding mowers as big as tractors filling up the small front yards they’re mowing.

So was this noise? It’s human-produced, so probably yes. But it’s a farmer – just one guy out on his tractor in an agricultural field. I was disappointed, but more resigned than actually angry.

 

The next day, I went to Swine Creek Reservation in an area of Geauga County with a large Amish community. I hoped that this time, I would just hear horse hooves and buggies. I started recording near a small parking area at the wooded edge of a field.

An Indigo Bunting broadcasting his song from his perch on a dead tree limb was subsequently joined by a Song Sparrow. 

Lisa Rainsong · Indigo Bunting Joined By Song Sparrow

I decided I’d walk down to the creek, cross, and hike up the ridge on the other side. 

I began recording before crossing the creek but stopped when a mom and her kids arrived to play in the water. Soon, another mom and kids followed. No one was quietly pondering the wonders of nature. These kids were in the creek, and they were yelling and occasionally shrieking. 

But they should be playing outside in a creek and kids are going to yell.  It may prevent my being able to record, but I decided it’s not exactly noise.

I crossed the creek and began my walk into the forest. Although I seldom actually saw birds, I could hear those that were close, others more distant, and the begging calls of nestlings. 

 

Lisa Rainsong · Acadian Flycatcher Near Swine Creek

Recording is so much more than simply pressing the record button when someone is singing. It’s really about listening closely to the nuances of the songs I might miss otherwise. It’s also about context. What’s going on around this bird? Does he vary his songs? Is another male responding and challenging him? 

“Observation” isn’t only a visual term.

There are times when a habitat may look quite glorious yet is so dominated by human noise that birds are likely experiencing significant difficulty communicating with others of their species.  In addition, birds - and even smaller mammals - must be able to stay alert for avian alarm calls warning of an approaching predator. When the chipmunk starts calling, it's possible that the birds are paying attention as well. So as annoying as it may become after a while, this is not - in my opinion - noise.

Lisa Rainsong · Red - Eyed Vireo then an Upset Chipmunk

 

Doesn't this look attractive? It's a vibrant location I recently investigated after coming across it on a park district website.

                          Strongsville Wildlife Area, Mill Stream Run Reservation.

 It was full of birds when I arrived, yet I couldn’t hear them clearly because...

 

Just look at the sonogram! Can you see how the birdsong is being obliterated?

On the other side of the trees is a major freeway. Sadly, this is not the first time I’ve had to walk away from what looked like an intriguing habitat to study simply because of relentless human noise. 

Park districts can save, restore, and create vibrant habitats, but they can’t move freeways.

 

During this same time period, I went to one of my favorite places in all of NE Ohio: Lake Erie Bluffs. 

 

 I walked the bluff trail that's typically filled with Yellow Warblers, Catbirds. and Song Sparrows.

 

 

This particular Catbird was having a sonic struggle with a speedboat, however. 

 

 

Then just as I was recording an especially splendid Song Sparrow, a brisk walker crunched past on the fine gravel. 

 

I was surprised by how far away she was when my microphone first alerted me to her approach and how long after her passing I could still hear her. But was that  noise? No. She was just out for a walk.

Although I deeply love this park, I tend to stay away in the summer because of the noise from speed boats, jet skis, and yachts. No verbal description is needed here. I’ll just offer this recording from May 30th. . 

 

Of course, I’m not going to leave you with that sonic obscenity. Here’s the song of an excellent Gray Catbird at Lake Erie Bluffs. There's a train in the distance, as is often the case there.

 

I’ll close with the song of Swine Creek itself. 

 

What are your biggest noise offenders? What are the sounds that are loud or annoying but not noise? (To me, that would be Common Grackle fledglings outside the window as I write, the whining Blue Jay fledglings, and the crowd of European Starling fledglings that have finally moved along from their residency at the backyard feeders.) And what gets a pass because there’s a certain connection for you, like train whistles for me?

You can leave messages on this blog (listeninginnature.blogspot.com), on my Facebook page if that’s where you found this blog post, or even by email if that's how you received an update from me. (Lisa.rainsong@listeninginnature.com.)

Shall I add some of your responses to the end of this post? Check back and see!  

                                                Observatory Park, Geauga County