Langford Lakes - A Soundscape
We’re so quick to relate our experiences in nature to what we see; the colours of the leaves that dangle from tree branches, shimmering green like ripples across water as the breeze passes through. We are quick to regale others with the sight of a buzzard rising on thermals, pulled by invisible thread upwards into the cornflower blue sky. On walks we point at the ducks on the pond, or the deer lurking in the woods, the impressive size of the rather rotund bumblebee that seems to buckle under its own weight carried only by two tiny wings, and the birds adorning the hedgerows.
We see a lot and it’s wonderful. But what about our other senses; what about our hearing? Nature is secretive, it hides away in thickets and scrubs, or passes high overhead and sneaks round corners when we aren’t looking. So much of it slips through our fingers because we are relying solely on eyesight. A recent stroll around a local nature reserve opened my eyes (or ears) to the idea that our hearing can be the key for opening some of nature’s hidden doorways.
Langford Lakes is one of Wiltshire Wildlife Trusts reserves. It’s a pleasant mix of lakes, wetland and meadow and is teeming with wildlife - a fantastic spot for a bit of birdwatching with well-placed hides and an array of birds utilising the lakes on offer.
I had planned to come down for a short walk and then an hour or so passing the time in one of the hides, just observing the goings on of the geese and keeping my eyes peeled for the flash of gold from the kingfisher. I had planned to do a lot of looking, I hadn’t really thought about listening – that quickly changed on my walk from the parking area to the main stretch of reserve.
It was warm but there was that tell-tale breeze that signals the change in seasons, a cold and consistent rush of air that makes you reach for a jumper; it whipped right past me and made for the leaves in the trees above my head. The crunch of my boots on gravel was soon masked by a growing rustling, like a room full of people whispering all at once. The wind was speaking, the leaves were its words – green vowels and shimmering constants spilling into the chilling air.
When the whispering faded, I could hear the unmistakable chattering of mallard, low and raspy but all at once, clamouring over each other for the last word like old men in a pub on a Sunday discussing the football results. The heavy wheezes of wingbeats from swans lifting from the surface, and the comical clattering of running feet on water as some bird, possibly a coot or some more mallards, crash landed into water – legs flailing on the spot like a cartoon character. All these sounds were hints at what lay beyond the trees, a cacophony of clues as to the location of the lake.
Nature is noisy, and all these goings on very nearly drowned out the distant sound of a strimmer, angrily buzzing away in the distance like someone had disturbed its nest. Despite this manmade ruckus nature sang out to show me its presence. From the thicket a robin tsked, great tits told me of teachers and chiff chaffs carried on their constant cadence. I couldn’t see any of these birds, they didn’t want to be seen, they wanted to hide away from prying human eyes but their primitive urges to warble and call to warn others of their ferocity, size or sexual prowess overcame them and their secrets were revealed through song.
Through the drone of an overhead plane and the honking skeins of geese that performed regular flybys as I marched the circular walk of the reserve, a frantic buzzing emerged from the brambles that lined the route. It was loud enough, and frequent enough that it stopped me. My boots ceased crunching, and as the planes and geese finally passed overhead I could home in on the noise. A definitive vibration, loud enough to make my ear drums tingle. My stillness revealed the culprit and my ears led me to a southern hawker, crashing its way around its patch, knocking leaves as it landed on them. If it hadn’t been for that incessant buzz I would have walked right by this marvel.
This majestic dragonfly really got me, such a small creature so loud in its presence, a musical note on a diverse landscape that could so easily have gone un-noticed. If it didn’t drone on as it flew, I probably wouldn’t have spied it flitting along natures edges.
This majestic dragonfly made me revel in nature’s volume. To watch with my ears and not my eyes.
