Following on from my Forest recordings made a few weeks ago, I was inspired to use the H3N at night. Although sonically this experiment was rather un-successful, the experience of sitting peacefully in what can be quite a sinister setting made me think on the subject of sonification, a word Asa Stjerna introduced me to.

I sat eyes closed listening deep to my surroundings, the flutter of moths around my torch, a distant owl hooting so faint it might be imagined, the rustle of leaves-silence.

What I find interesting is how forest’ and woodland can evoke such powerful yet contrasting emotions. Be it during the day, walks through the woods can be inspiring and joyous, a celebration of natural architecture and the ancient untold stories of the past, bound together by roots. However at night, the trees become sinister and the air damp and musty. Childhood horrors awaken in the darkness. Most of my family kept asking ‘Won’t you be scared going alone?”.

Although forests at night can look particularly creepy, rotting tree mounds mistaken for trolls and crooked branches, the hands of some phantom. I believe it to be the absence of sound and life, that scares us. Of course we cannot deny how films have effected our psyche in terms of ‘place’-ie graveyards, abandoned churches, hospitals all evoke feelings of unease. But having sat in the forest alone, I found the silence to be the most unsettling. For in the day woodlands team with life and create the sonic base for our walking pleasure, however at night, the intermittent sounds of the odd branch falling or muntjac scream pierced the silent landscape. I was jumped many times by this. I felt it to be similar to when the electricity cuts off at home, followed by the eerie silence not accustomed to. Radiators, ovens, lights etc all emit a sound or drone, adding to the sonic makeup of our homes, the same way birds and life do for woodlands.

I was hoping to unearth and hear secrets of the woods not commonly heard, maybe the fluttering of bats or something completely absurd. Yet, I was met with silence. The loudest thing was me, clunking around with my H3 bag and crappy torch trying to captures sounds, unknowingly disturbing the environment around me. This also lead me to consider the ‘natural ethics’ of what I was doing and the idea of field recording–

Are we recording or instead cherry picking from a particular environment? Are we enabling or denying listeners the true awe of the natural world? Do we disturb the same way a documentary maker might?

I like this question and will discuss it further some other time.