(data choirs: marginalia)

December | Dawn to Noon | Cupola 

The Red – Blaze – is the Morning – / The Violet – is Noon -, c. 1863 (Fr602A)

Daylight hours: Dec. 1: 9:18 | Dec. last: 9:08

According to the Snell meteorological record, the temperatures in December fluctuated between 0º and 49º F, with an average of just over 30º F. Stratus and nimbus clouds were most often observed, interspersed with cirrus, cumulous, and cumulostratus. The dominant winds came from the NW and W. The first of December was recorded as “Fair,” and fair or fine days fell on Dec. 4, 12 [evening], 13, 18, 20, 23, 24, 25, 29, and 30. Of the remaining days, 3 were cloudy (Dec. 2, 5, 17); six were foggy or misty (Dec. 7, 11, 19, 26, 27, 28); six were days of rain (Dec. 3, 11, 14, 19, 21, 28); and on at least four snow fell (Dec. 10, 11, 16, 19, 31 [“snows gently”]). Winds marked many of the days across the month.

Bird species in the scatterplot for December number about 45, with many now hidden from us.

.

:00

December is the long morning of winter.

The listener listens to the beginning of the season of cold from high in the cupola of the house. Sounds from the ground float up to them; sounds from the sky seem to fall down to them. 

In the pre-dawn hush, the birdscape still sleeps deep inside the larger wave of the weather. 

:18

The winds waken the birds who have been hunkering in their roosts, some clinging to trees, some sheltering in cavities. The listener hears them leaving their nightly sanctuaries, flying against the elements, then flocking in edge habitats to forage. 

Their flight calls are brief, erratic, scratchy. The sound of dead leaves.

The solitary singers succeed one another: a Black-capped Chickadee, a Northern Cardinal, a Downy Woodpecker, a White-breasted Nuthatch 

1:26

And now a Brown Creeper’s high, wavering song travels far in the cold air.

1:47

A sleigh is traveling at the edge of the cold world.  

1:55

It is day. And the only sound is the wind’s tracery and a single Blue Jay crossing into January.  

January | Afternoon to evening | Edge Habitat

There’s a certain Slant of light, / Winter Afternoons -, c. early 1862 (Fr320A)

Daylight hours: Jan. 1: 9:09 | Jan. last: 9:59

According to the Snell meteorological record, the opening days of January were windy, with bursts of cold recorded early in the month (Jan. 1, 2, 3, 7, 8, and 9) and again at its close ( Jan 31). Snow fell or drifted on Jan. 1, 5, 6, and 30; rain, mist, and hail visited on Jan. 1, 15, 16, and 19; and a few days were sunken in clouds: Jan. 8, 17, 20, and 29. Cold days alternated with warmer days of thawing on Jan 24, 25, and 29; and “fine days” unfurled in small stretches: Jan. 3; Jan. 10-12, 14, 16, 21; Jan. 26-28. The thermometer dipped to -1.5º F on Jan. 7, the coldest recorded temperature for the month, then rose to 44.2º F on Jan. 29, the month’s highest recorded temperature. Rain and snow-melt accumulated to just over 2 inches; and 5 inches of new snow fell. Stratus clouds were the most frequent sky-covering, and winds came most often from the NW + W.

Bird species in the scatterplot for January number around 40.

2:00

At the break of January, the December snows have paused but the wind continues. 

Out of the vortex of the winds come the birds’ brief calls and briefer song-fragments.

2:08

In the cold, someone is walking over the snow, passing the circumference of the village and entering the forest.

In a clearing the slant shadows of the birds risen in the afternoon light of the northern winter make a cartograph in the snow, a star chart for an unknown galaxy of cold.

2:35

A Quietness distilled -* 

3:23

The listener who has been still for a long time in the world on the wing turns back.

3:47

The dusk is a shimmer of violet blue.

The note of a solitary Black-capped Chickadee hitting the night air is the last sound January remembers. 

*Emily Dickinson

February | Night | Dream Forest

The Forests as they froze, c. 1865 (Fr967A)

Daylight hours: Feb 1: 10:01 | Feb. last: 11:13

According to the Snell meteorological record, storms opened the month, and Feb. 2, 3, and 4 were gusty and cold. But on Feb. 5, unexpected fine weather “spoiled” the sleighing, and fine days recurred at regular intervals across the month on Feb. 7, 10, 12, 13, 19, 20, 21, 23, and 27. Snow fell on Feb. 1, 8, 16, and 26. Rain, too, was intermittent, falling on Feb. 16, 24, 26, and 28. At its nadir, on Feb. 18, the thermometer registered -4.3º F; at its apex on Feb. 26, it rose to 46.8º F. The accumulated rain and snow-melt was noted at just over 1 inch, and 6.5 inches of new snow covered the ground. Stratus clouds were the most frequent sky-covering, and winds came most often from the NW + W. On Feb. 9, the Aurora Borealis manifested in the sky; and on Feb. 15, a halo appeared at Noon.

Bird species in the scatterplot for February number about 44. 

4:00

In the Data Firmament, February is the long night of winter. The listener dreams of birds in a conifer forest. 

They are in the spires of White- and Pitch Pines, Hemlocks and Red Cedars, Balsam Firs. . . In their cold roosts the sound of the stars sweeps around them and goes out.

Storm-not-star-light briefly illuminates the world.

4:20

It is now believed that while their eyes are closed during REM sleep, owls display eye movements and their heads nod slowly, suggesting a state similar to dreaming in humans. 

At the first opening of the ice some owls will migrate further north.  Dreaming the zugunruheof, they will gorge on berries, their internal organs metamorphosing for the journey.

5:15

At first light, the owls return to their roots.

In the listener’s dream others may now awaken: Kinglets, Redpolls, Red Nuthatches and Pine Grosbeaks, Brown Creepers and Cherry Birds… 

 

March | Vernal Equinox | Window

First at the March / Competing with the Wind -, c. 1875 (Fr1383A)

Daylight hours: March. 1: 11:15 | March last: 12:41

According to the Snell meteorological record, March began and ended with snow. Only eightfine (“bright,” “clear”) days—March 2, 3, 8, 12, 15, 21, 24, 28—are recorded, while storms—snow, hail, rain—troubled Amherst on March 6 (“lowery”), 11 (“rain and fog”), 13 (“rain and hail”), 20 (“snow squalls around”), 29 (“storm wind”) and 30 (Nor’easterner). High winds visited on the 9th, 18th, 24th, 26th, 29th, and 30th of the month. On the coldest day of March, the thermometer fell to -15º F, with cold or “raw” air reported on March 16, 17, 19, 21, 22 (-10º), 23, and 26. On the warmest day the temperature rose to 53º F. The cumulative rain and snow-melt measured 2.578 inches, and 5 inches of new snow fell. Stratus clouds were most often observed in the sky, along with nimbus, and winds blew most often from the NW + W. On March 10, a halo appeared in the sky. 

Bird species in the scatterplot for March now number over 60.

6:00

The earth is a cold and dripping garden and all the world tilts towards the vernal equinox.

The birds that never left will be outnumbered by those returning. 

6:14

First the “freeing of the waters” brings a wave of sea-birds. Canada Geese, Mallards, Black Ducks, Dippers and Mergansers, Black-crowned Night Herons all cleaving northward…

6:49

Next songbirds pierce the veil of spring: the first Bluebird is noted in the Snell’s 1864 weather record on March 7; the first Robin of the year on March 13. 

All along the northern corridor the listener hears the sound of new light in trees.

7:09

Through them spin whirlwinds of Meadowlarks, Blackbirds, Pheobes, and Waxwings. . .

And whirlwinds of Song Sparrows, Fox Sparrows, Chipping Sparrows…

7:46

The sky is falling. Rain and downed birds hit all over the earth.

A singing world torn asunder.

April | A Door Ajar | Into the Wave

Absent place – an April Day -, c. 1865 (Fr958A)

Daylight hours: April 1: 12:44 | April last: 14:03

According to the Snell meteorological record, April opened with rain, which returned on April 2 (“NE weather”), 10, 11, 23 (with lightning), 26, and 28, but fine days were also abundant, falling on April 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 15, 16, 21, 24, 29, and 30. Winds blew primarily from the N, NE, and NW—and clouds—stratus most commonly, followed by nimbus—appeared in the skies on April 5, 13, 15, 17, 18, 19, 20, 25, and 27, with snow reported on April 10 (mixed with rain and hail), 11, and 12. On the coldest day of the month, April 5, the thermometer fell to just below 32º F; on the warmest day, April 22, it rose to almost 65º F. Together rain and snow-melt measured 2.5 inches, and 5 inches of new snow fell.

On April 7, the Northern Lights appeared in the sky.

Bird species in the scatterplot for April exceed 100.

8:00

The listener leans in an open doorway attending to the rain.

8:08

A Bobolink cuts the airy way, then passes into Sparrow-billows moving north: Savannah Sparrows, Vesper Sparrows, Field Sparrows, White-throated Sparrows, Swamp Sparrows…

8:43

Warblers, swallows, siskins, and linnets sweep in on new winds.

8:57

They are drawing the boundaries of their territories with invisible threads of sound.

9:10

The listener is reading: …an ear better unwinds the simultaneous warblers in a summer birchwood.*

Acousmatic sound, from the Greek “a thing heard,” is an experience of sounds without seeing their originating causes.

9:35

It is a lonesome glee.**

Now the Wren, gravid and hidden.

Now the Thrush, high in the canopy.

9:50

Now the spectral song of the Ruddy Pigeon, searching for its closest missing kin and sounding its passing and passing out of the world forever.

*Ronald Johnson, ARK

**Emily Dickinson

May | High Spring | Pelham Hills

The Hills in Purple syllables, c. 1865 (Fr1026A)

Daylight hours: May. 1: 14:05 | May last: 15:04

The Snell’s meteorological record for May indicates a month of marked fluctuations: while the average temperature was recorded at 60º F, the temperature fell to 40º F and rose 86º F during the month. Frost covered the ground on May 2, but by the sixth of the month it was “hot + clear,” and the note for May 9 reads “Summer day.” All through May constellations of rainy and windy days—May 1 (“rain a.m.”), 3 (“rain a.m., squalls”), 4 (“many clouds”), 7 (“a little rain in the evening”), 8 (“sprinkles a.m., thundershowers p.m.”), 11 (“Lowery”), 12 (“mist 8 am”), 13 (“Lowery. Distant thundershower”), 14 (“Lowery”), 15 (“Lowery; sprinkles, showers”), 16 (“very showery”), 17 (“Thundershowers about”), 18 (“Showers about; sprinkles”), 24 (“Thundershowers”), 26 (“Lowery, sprinkles”), 27 (“Rain AM”)—alternated with much smaller constellations of fair days until the end of the month, when fine days followed one another:   May 28 (“Fine AM”), 29 (“AM clear”), 30 (“Fine day”), 31 (“Hot, clear”). Atmospheric symptoms associated with hotter temperatures also appeared across May. On May 10, a recorder noted “smoke, distant lightning NW”; on May 20 and 21, the same recorder noted the “Smoky” air. All month long, South and South-east winds swept through Amherst and greater New England.

In the scatterplot for May, the bird species count reaches over 150—the highest number in the yearly cycle.

10.00

The listener has come down from the height of the Pelham Hills into the Valley.

In the wake of early May rains the world is an echo-chamber of wild birds sounding their continuous, ecstatic carol.

10:14

In this distance a voice not a bird’s is singing as if a several silver backlit in gust.* 

10:34

Into the “fine days” of the Northern Hemisphere stream waves of Warblers: Black-and-white, Golden-winged,  Orange-crowned, Cerulean, Magnolia and Myrtle, Pine, Prairie, and Palm. . .

And even before the bright wave of Warblers has subsided, a second current of May birds flows among them: Flycatchers, Swallows, Thrushes of all kinds, Orioles, Grosbeaks, Buntings, Scarlet Tanagers, Redstarts, Pewees, Rails, Sandpipers, and Plovers…

10:50

In the foreground of distant thunder the sound of birds , voices of lace in light, so many arrows singing.

11:04

May is an ambush of birds.

A quickening. An inundation.

11:38

Under the ringing bells the subsong of the Mourning Dove and mystery of nesting, barely beginning its flutter.

11:45

The cuckoo has come again.

12:00

In the last fine days of the month, the planet passes under the primeval song of the hermit thrush.

Ronald Johnson, ARK

June | Nest & Egg | Bird-Blin

I showed her Secrets – Morning’s Nest -, c. 1862 (Fr346A)

Daylight hours: June. 1: 15:05 | June last: 15:14

According to the Snell meteorological record, in June 1864 the temperatures averaged in the mid-to-high 60s, but rose briefly into the 90s. And while the first half of the month was dominated by fair days with occasional showers on June 1, 2, 5, 6, 9, and 12, the second half of the month was hotter, with many days marked as dry, dusty, smoky. The end of the month was afflicted by severe drought. While a great many days were meteorologically quiet, a cold wind on June 10 was followed by frost the next day, and, in the latter days of the month, smoke and haze were accompanied by drought winds. When clouds—almost invariably stratus—occasionally visited, they lay low and flat across the sky.  

Bird species in the scatterplot for June number just over 100, with losses of almost a third from May’s high count.

12:00

The June listener has hidden themselves in a bird-blind deep and a light curtain of rain just before the pitch of the dawn chorus.

In the semi-dark, they can a hear Robin, then a Thrush. A flute or a spiral in the wood.

12:20

And now a Mourning Dove.

12:35

At first light others join them: Bluebirds, Cardinals, Cuckoos, Waxwings…

The soundscape of aeries is a tensile net of knots and apertures.

13:00

On the way to the longest day of the year the birds keep their nests.

In the blind the listener listens beside a nest of Wrens. Their begging sounds hiss in the ear.

13:27

Something that is not one of them has entered the wood.

An axe bisects the cradle world. The dawn chorus is dragged away by alarm calls from every corner of the canopy.

13.55

An intricate quiet restored.

July | Afternoon | Molt

Or Nature – spending with Herself / Sequestered Afternoon -, c. early 1865 (Fr935B)

Daylight hours: July 1: 15:13 | July last: 14:31

The Snell record reveals a meteorologically quiet July. Quiet settled into twenty-six of the month’s thirty days: July 1, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30. Of the remaining days, rain broke the silence, first on July 2 and 7, when it fell lightly and intermittently, next on July 10 and 11, when it took the form of a violent thunderstorm from the north, and finally on July 24, when gentle rain fell across the day. Stratus clouds dominated the skies, and the most often referenced atmospheric condition was dry, hot, smoky skies. July 22 was so arid and smoky that the mountains disappeared from view. While the average temperature for the month was 71.5º F, the thermometer rose to 91.9º F, and the month ended with all living things subjected to parching drought.

Bird species in the July scatterplot number just under 100.

Now we enter the space just after high summer when the sonic extroversion of spring and early summer is replaced by an inhabited hush. It is not that the birds have departed—they remain all around us—but rather that they have withdrawn into the interior time of the molting season. Their feathers, ravaged from the effects of wind and rain and long bleaching in the sun, must fall away, leaving their wings marred by gaps, their powers of flight impaired. In the period of the molt, summer’s wild songbirds—sparrows, warblers, thrushes among them—wander away from their defended nesting territory and stop singing; sensing their new vulnerability to predators, they go to ground, concealing themselves in the vegetation and only furtively calling. The molt is a period of mending, but for now the fullness of restoration is uncertain.

14:00

The listener is bedded down in a depression in the forest floor, the abandoned sleeping site of another animal since passed on. They barely stir but enjoy an interval of solitude, the flow of a destinate existence, in currency with winds, birds, thoughts…

14:25

The floor of the forest hums with insect life. A blanket of gnats, cicadas, crickets, katydids, beetles, bees.

And somewhere close beside it, the near-silence of the plumeless birds: Gold Finches, Mourning Doves, Warblers, Cowbirds and Blue Birds, Warblers…

14:44

From their hollow in the ground, the listener gives shapes to the flickerings of shadows: is it the Great Blue Heron who has crossed July’s threshold with the Glossy Ibis, the Peregrine Falcon, the Louisiana Waterthrush?

15:10

The long pointed wings of the cuckoos flying swift and low, the slow fluttering of orioles, the synchronized undulations of waxwings, the high, erratic turns of Puprle Martins: each bird’s maneuver its own sound.

15:52

The sun is below the horizon; in the lower atmosphere of the falling Earth the Wood Pewee’s song disperses the remaining afternoon light.

August | Evening | Harvest

The mower is tuning his scythe, c. about 1884 (Fr1649n)

Daylight hours: Aug. 1: 14:26 | Aug. last: 13:11

According to the Snell meteorological record, in August the median temperature was 70.8º F, with a low of 54.8º F and a high of 98º F. Stratus clouds frequently blanketed the sky, altering occasionally with cumulostratus and nimbus. A little over four inches of rain fell, and winds, though light, often changed direction—NW + N 28; SW + S 19; SE + E 39; NE + N 14.  After nearly seven days of rain or the threat of rain at the opening of the month, the weather turned hot and “smoky” between August 8 and 13; and on the August 9 the sun was visible at noon but with no shadows. After the “beautiful evening” of August 14 fair or fine days unfolded for the remainder of the month, only occasionally interspersed with rain.

Bird species in the scatterplot for August number about 108, with new arrivals of rare or irregular birds making the August numbers rise slightly above those for July…

16:00

Storm still.*

16:17

A stretch of fine days, a green and silver ambush of Veeries, Black and Yellow Cuckoos, Waxwings, and Wood Thrushes.

17:00 

Bobolinks, Black-and-White Warblers, Yellow Warblers, Warbling Vireos, Henslow’s Sparrows, Hummingbirds, King Rails, Terns, Upland and Solitary Sandpipers still sound in the settling of August’s ever-expanding quiet.

Now out of the south come Blue Herons and King Rails; now out of the north a few Sandpipers, Lesser Yellowlegs, Plovers, and Terns…

17:11

Across acres and days is the sound of the scythe… Far above the mower’s arc is another arc of Red-winged Blackbirds.

They do not touch each others’ flight- and song-paths.

17:36

The listener is at their desk. The fields will fallow soon again. The pen is crossing the paper.

17:50

Now night is drawn upwards by dark flocks of Northern Harriers, Cooper’s Hawks, Broad-winged Hawks, Marsh Hawks, Nighthawks—spiraling their return to the high trees. 

*William Shakespeare, King Lear.

September | Fall Morning | The Swell of the Migration

Autumn begins to be inferred, date unknown (Fr1693[A])

Daylight hours: Sept. 1: 13:08 | Sept. last: 11:46

According to the Snell meteorological record the median temperature in September was 57.8º F, with the thermometer rising as high as 80º F and falling to a low of 41º F, occasioning a brief frost. Rain and snow-melt totaled just over 2.5 inches. Stratus clouds were abundant, alternating with stratocumulous and nimbus, and, rarely, with cumulous, cirrus, and cirrocumulous clouds. Winds from the NW and W prevailed, though winds from all directions swept through September. Fine days—Sept. 1, 2, 6, 7, 8, 10, 14, 17, 19, 20, 21, 26, 27, 28—were interspersed with days of rain—Sept. 3, 4, 5, 9, 11, 12, 18, 24, 29, 30 (“cleared at evening”). On Sept. 9, a rainbow stretched across the sky; and on Sept. 20 a bright aurora arch appeared in the sky.

Bird species in September’s scatterplot exceed 100.

18:00

September is woven on the shuttles of Amherst’s silk looms and the murmuring of cicadas, katydids, crickets, grasshoppers.

18:13

The listener is listening to a procession of departures.

First the diurnal migrants: Sharp-shinned Hawks, Broad-winged Hawks, Red-tailed Hawks, Marsh Hawks, Cooper’s Hawks, Merlins, Peregrine Falcons, Osprey, and Crows.

19:00

And next the shorebirds: Green and Black-crowned Night Herons, American Wigeons, Shoveler Ducks, Terns, Wood Ducks, Green-winged Teals, Sandpipers, and Yellowlegs.

19:14

In the din it is necessary to attend closely to hear the Warblers beginning their exodus down the latitudes.

19:30

And to hear the songbirds furtively departing from the understory.

In the up- and down-drafts of the fall-ing world, four birds sound briefly: the Whip-poor-will, the Bobolink, the Hummingbird, and the House Wren, who sings last and longest.

19:44

The listener is trying to decipher a sound on the horizon.

W. H. Audubon once said it was a “torrent” and “a noise like thunder” or “the creaking of a tree”.

No one remembers it now.

19:55

The listener keeps listening to a sound made by a bird passing out of the world a century ago, flying at a speed of 100 km/hr.

October | The Month of Sparrows | Night Fall Out

She staked Her Feathers – Gained an Arc -, c. 1864 (Fr853A)

Daylight hours: Oct. 1: 11:43 | Oct. last: 10:22

The Snell’s meteorological record tells us that in October the median temperature was 46.4º F, with the thermometer rising to a high of 68.7º F and falling to a low of 28.5º F. Rain and snow-melt totaled almost 3 inches. Stratus clouds were abundant, followed in number by nimbus, and, rarely, by cumulostratus and cirrus clouds. Winds from the NW and W prevailed across the month. Fine days (Oct. 5, 7, 8, 10, 11, 18, 21, 21, 22, 24, 25, 26, 29) alternated with days of clouds (Oct. 1, 3, 4, 12, 13, 16, 19, 23, 30), mist or rain (Oct. 2, 6, 13, 14, 15, 16, 27, 28, 31), and high winds (Oct. 17, 20 [“rough day”]).

Bird species in October’s scatterplot number around 100.

20:00

Still in the semi-darkness the listener watches the eastern sky.

The Snow Geese are moving high above the world. They cross north together with other new arrivals: Black Ducks, Gadwalls, Hooded Mergansers, Saw-whet Owls…

20:17

In the opposite direction, drawing the world southward, come near-infinite numbers of songbirds: Mourning Doves, Blue-birds and Blackbirds, Phoebes, Warblers—and so many Sparrows: Lincoln’s Sparrows and Henslow’s Sparrows, Song Sparrows and Savannah Sparrows, Field, Fox, and House Sparrows, Chipping Sparrows and Vesper Sparrows….

The listener is hearing the words of Matt. 10:28-29 in their head.

Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? And one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.

Let us make this month a remembrance to sparrows.

21:00

In the failing light of early evening the birds that the Father counted amass in vast airy formations.

They will fly in formation for 200 miles in a night, then another 2,000 along the migration corridor.

Some birds will ride on the backs of others.

21:06

Rough weather drives them south in large movements.

There are fall-outs—a pelting of birds down, down into rank, weedy fields; their last songs ascending from the old, old chthonic earth.

21:30

A Hermit Thrush.

A Winter Wren.

A Peace, as Hemispheres at Home -* 

21:55

Quiet again. And the only sound the everlasting sound of air moving and moving the night migrants in circles around the world.

*Emily Dickinson

November | Quiet | Irregular Visitors

’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s / Deep Pillow – to have shared -, c. 1864 (Fr764A)

Daylight hours: Nov. 1: 10:19 | Nov. last: 9:20

In November 1864 the Snell meteorological record reports a median temperature of 38º F, with the thermometer rising to a high of 62º F and falling to a low of 10.8º F. Rain and snow-melt totaled just over 6 inches; and 9 inches of new snow fell. Stratus clouds were abundant, along with large numbers of nimbus clouds and occasional fog. Winds from the NW and W prevailed across the month, though SW and S winds also visited. November opened with three fine, cold days (Nov. 1, 2, 3), followed by a day of rain (Nov. 4), and another of snow and wind (Nov. 5). After the rhythmic alternating of fine and rainy days between Nov. 6 and Nov. 10, clouds on Nov. 11 and wind on Nov. 12 presaged a violent snowstorm on Nov. 13, followed by two more days of drifting snow. Much of the second half of November was cloudy.

Bird species in November’s scatterplot number under 70.

22:00

Now winter is almost upon the world: the canopy is bare, grasses are withering, and daily the sounds of birds grow fewer.

By day, the fragmentary notes of a few songbirds—Golden-crowned and Ruby-crowned Kinglets, Meadowlarks, Pine Grosbeaks, Redpolls, and Sparrows—scatter the air between billows of quiet.

By night, on Northwest winds, the silent migration of waterfowl navigating by the light of the moon and stars continues, though now diminished.

23:00

swift snow before wind suns flying* 

23:40

The world is winds only and the echoing wail of a Common Loon, gavia immer…

Under its spell, the writer draws their pen across the long opening of the cold.

23:55

They are moving far out on a line of verse, almost alone.

*Ronald Johnson, ARK