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by Henry David Thoreau 01/23/2003, 11:27am PST |
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I was cleaning out my hardrive for a much needed defrag when I came across this. I was hiking early last spring and I was coming down in the cooling and golden early afternoon, there wasn't a single sound in the woods except for this. The tenacious leaves that had hung on through the winter fluttered noiselessly, blinking in the oblique sunlight. Hard shafts of shadow thrown by the barren trees slanted on the soft forest floor. I sat for awhile on a fallen tree and listened, enraptured, rewarded for my venture. In the months to come I would hear this bird many times, always singing alone, always above a certain altitude, and always in the afternoon. I'm no bird guy, but it wasn't hard to find out that it was the call of the aptly named Hermit Thrush. But here is the real wonder--an unadulterated slo-mo of the same bird's call. Notice the built-in echo. I can listen to both of these clips endlessly.
In other news, does anyone know of a good, free sound editing program? Nothing too fancy, just free. |
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