THE DOPEST SOUND BATH IN BROOKLYN

Whatcha doin' this weekend?

SUMMER SCHOOL REMINDER:

Our Orioles of Summer Index → [here]
Our Guide to Herons → [here]
Kingbird Intel → [here]

THE DOPEST SOUND BATH IN BROOKLYN

OKAY so sound bath may conjure an image of you in a yoga mat circle, lying down, eyes closed, and me (Michael)—in full bird-shaman regalia—hopping around waving a rainstick or some dope wizard staff inches from your increasingly uncomfortable face.

M. in full bird-shaman regalia at our last pagan party. Keep late-Sep. open for something solstice-ly similar, yeah? | 📷: Jake Salyers

But that’s not the what I mean! I’m (sort of) on vacation, remember?

The “sound-bath” we’re talking about is you basking in the most commonly encountered summer sounds of Prospect Park.

Here’s the idea: absorb the intel below, then:

• head into Prospect Park this Saturday

• preferably (but not necessarily) before 9am, when the sounds are clear and the vibes are Mary Oliver and the light hits happiest

• move with unprecedented aural confidence, as if you’re swinging from sonic vine to sonic vine

On your own. No guide. Just these weird words (hopefully echoing right alongside the birdsong they describe) ringing in your ears.

Not in Brooklyn? No problem—these sounds are currently emanating from just about any mid-to-large-sized park across the eastern U.S.

Not an eastsider? American Robins and Downy Woodpeckers are found coast to coast, so start with those. Otherwise, go commando: head outside, listen closely, and notice what you can. It’ll be worth it. Promise.

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Throughout the park, keep an ear out for your most reliable sonic handholds:

• the persistent fluting of the American Robin

• the laser-beam pew pew pew of Northern Cardinals

• the insistent EEYUR EEYUR of Blue Jays

You—all viney and shizz.

All the while, listen for the only slightly less common:

• squeak-toy trills of the Downy Woodpecker

• the spiraling whuuurl of the Red-bellied Woodpecker

Swing by the Vale of Cashmere. Along the way—and within—you’ll likely encounter:

• the relentless, scratchy, erratic and weirdly vibey call of the Gray Catbird

In the Ravine/Midwood—Brooklyn’s only remaining forest!—tune in for the rarer gems:

• staggered, lolligagged whistled of the Red-eyed Vireo

• the otherworldly, magic flute-wails of the Wood Thrush. (To spot one, look low for flashes of warm red-brown kicking up leaf litter.)

Vale of Cashmere by Rhododendrites

In open fields, look—and listen—up for:

• the twittering static of flyover Chimney Swifts

Along forest edges, tune into tiny wrens—surprisingly loud as heck:

• the House Wren: a wild burst of machine-gun funkiness

• the Carolina Wren: a string of bright, loud notes that somehow sound both furious and delighted

And alongside them, try to catch the Warbling Vireo:

• the berserk, medium-length ramblings of an angry, drunken robin

BONUS: Any time you're near the zoo (on the park’s eastern edge), you’re also liable to hear:

• the guttural croaks of a peacock

A forest grows in Brooklyn | The Ravine, from bklyner.com

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Next up: we’re gonna sketch some shorebirds—so you know who, exactly, you’ve wandered past while staggering off for some solo time away from your beach towel circle.

See you then!

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NOTES

There’s no expectation that you memorize all this! The point is to start knowing who’s around, who’s loud—and if a mnemonic or two sticks, all the better.

On that mnemonic tip: don’t rely too much on other folks’ descriptions of birdsong. They won’t always work for you. To truly come to know a sound, you’ve gotta be in the field—experiencing it, making sense of it, feeling its shape, and (hopefully, though not necessarily) laying eyes on the baddie bird herself. That lived, felt, embodied encounter will do the job. It’ll sizzle-brand the sound into the crags of your brain like so much cattle bum. Trust.

Also, f*ck hotspots and maps! Enter and wander the park however you please—where your heart hollers. Follow the sounds and your senses.

Plenty of species are still around but keeping relatively quiet—like orioles. Look for their shuffling silhouettes along the Peninsula, the Vale, and the Sparrow Bowl.

Watch, too, along water’s edge, for held-still herons—or the ones you accidentally flush. They’ll rise with great dignity from underfoot, flying off over water to somewhere more peaceful.