Whilst out along the Kent side of the Thames Estuary on Saturday, aiming to capture the sound of skylarks and reeds, we met a walker with a very friendly border terrier. She told us there was talk of a nightingale not too far away at RSPB's Northward Hill Nature Reserve. We aren't strictly speaking wildlife recordists, the Lento box is designed like a wide angle camera to capture panoramic landscape sounds, but we thought it might be worth a visit to the reserve to see if we might be able to find...
Whilst out along the Kent side of the Thames Estuary on Saturday, aiming to capture the sound of skylarks and reeds, we met a walker with a very friendly border terrier. She told us there was talk of a nightingale not too far away at RSPB's Northward Hill Nature Reserve. We aren't strictly speaking wildlife recordists, the Lento box is designed like a wide angle camera to capture panoramic landscape sounds, but we thought it might be worth a visit to the reserve to see if we might be able to find it.
Unusually for us public transport devotees, we were able to travel on to Northward Hill easily thanks to a magnificent Lento supporter. He'd driven us and the Lento box out from Brockley station in South East London to explore another corner of the Hoo Peninsula, and was keen to visit the reserve. We didn't feel hugely confident about actually hearing a nightingale. They are the kinds of birds you don't expect to find on demand.
We rolled into the reserve's car park and quickly headed down into the woodland. We descended a rough flight of bare earth steps under the dark shadows of dense tree canopy, surrounded by glorious birdsong. All the usual suspects of course, familiar if you regularly listen to Lento - chif chaf, blackbirds, black caps, jackdaws, robins, various others plus trusty wood pigeons.
After turning right and proceeding further into the woods over a few hundred yards our ears pricked up. I found myself saying "and there it is" before I had even properly heard it. We continued for a few steps and, fortunately, there it was again, this time much more clearly, and without doubt a nightingale only about thirty yards away! Up on the tripod went the Lento box. I turned it to face the sound of the nightingale, and pressed record, bathed in the rich tapestry of spring woodland birds, coming from all around us.
Here's what the box captured. It's only twenty minutes. The passage of time is from around 5pm on 24th May. There are some people vaguely audible and a horse (louder) somewhere to left of scene. A road must pass the reserve too because some level of vehicle noise is distantly audible, but not so much as to spoil the overall effect. We capture whole landscapes from one fixed position, so what you hear is the nightingale just as we heard it from standing on the path and facing into the reserve. Wildlife recordists find ways to post their microphones very close to their subjects and as such we are all used to hearing nightingales proportionately far louder than anything else. In reality though these are not birds that like being approached, so few people can ever actually hear in-person, the bird singing as loudly as they do in specially focused recordings.
With a pair of headphones though this episode provides a realistic woodland soundscape with a nightingale almost dead centre of scene. You should be able quite easily to hear it between the other birds which are spread out to the left and to the right of scene. Listen out for a wonderfully special coincidence that happens a few times where a distant cuckoo comes into earshot too. It is pretty well dead centre, behind the nightingale.
There must be a farm nearby because several cockerels crow towards the end. The whole scene is in fact very busy, and whether a connection or not, I note how the nightingale seems to become more active when the chif chaf is in full voice. Coincidence, or not?
This bonus episode is shared with big thanks to our trusty supporter and to the dog walker we met.
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