Listening to a Continent Sing

This is the very bird that held my attention while waiting for the storms to clear, the very bird that will forever take me back to that stormy morning in Walden, Colorado.

I listen again, and hear how he sings a string of mellow notes, always ending them with the same pair of syllables, at 0:02, 0:11, 0:18, 0:22, 0:28, 0:35, 0:43, 0:49, 0:57, 1:01, 1:08, 1:18, 1:27, and 1:31. But in between those two syllables my ears can detect little recognizable detail.

(At 0:06, you hear my little minidisc recorder winding up, readying itself for what is to come.)

Background

Wind from the thunderstorms, a few distant voices of other (human) storm admirers

Photo by John Van de Graaff