Sounds of Nature Sean Corcoran, The Art Hand

So what happens to wildlife when darkness falls in the middle of the day?! I've always been curious about this and so I made this audio recording during a total eclipse of the sun in Texas on April 8th, 2024.

I ventured a kilometer downstream, on the outskirts of the City of Llano and set up my microphone in a willow tree on the banks of the Llano River. It felt remote but infact it was only 200 meters from the nearest dwelling.

In the recording you will hear the constant hum of the river along with the constant presence of birds. Listen carefully and you'll hear dogs barking, the wind coming and going, a man hammering a fence post, several aeroplanes, footsteps, branches snapping, dogs howling, car horns beeping, voices, the clink of a steel pole, crickets, frogs, a rock falling, people cheering in the distance, the crow of a rooster, insects buzzing past and finally the dawn chorus. Of course the landscape descends into total darkness during this recording but it's such a gradual process it's quite difficult to identify in this sound recording.

A solar eclipse is when the moon passes between the sun and Earth and blocks all or part of the sun's light. For this total eclipse at 1.37pm, the longest period when the moon completely blocks the sun was 4 minutes and 24 seconds. However the overall process takes nearly three hours. It's very gradual. The last time the contiguous U.S. saw a total eclipse was in 1979.

The thumbnail image is a still from a little timelapse I shot from the bank. I amused myself climbing trees, sky gazing and I balanced a steel pole and a steel ring in the river. That's me with a head torch on my head in preparation for the total darkness that was about to descend. The actual microphone is on the far side of the river behind me about 50 feet back from the river. I didn't want it to record all my movements but in hindsight I think I should have positioned it a bit further back from the water so that the recording isn't as drowned out by the water. Also I should have used my wind shield on the microphone to soften the noise of the wind.

It's a 2 hour and 4 minutes long recording! Consider using headphones for the full effect or leave it on in the background. Think I'll put it on loop when I go to sleep tonight! Enjoy.

Join me on a walk along the rocky shore of Kilmurrin Cove at high tide...

As an environmental artist it’s the low tide that I’m most familiar with when the full extend of the lower shore is revealed. The spaciousness and atmosphere of this temporary landscape really appeals to me and I love to witness first hand the ecosystems that are usually underwater.

I’ve more recently been attracted by the high tide. At Kilmurrin the foreshore has a massive deposit of fist-sized rounded rocks. When the waves are strong the back wash drags the smaller aggregate back out to sea creating a powerful and refreshing sound.

For this walk I’ve put on my waders to allow the foamy wash to surround me as I walk along the shore making this recording. You’ll hear my footsteps along the gravel and stones. I cross the stream that is in full flow from the recent rain and place my field recorder under the cliff, on the far side, where a waterfall is draining the surrounding fields.

I’m intrigued by the new sounds offered by this limited interface between the tide and the land. However the poor water quality of our tributaries also reminds me of the impact us humans are having on this fragile environment.

Meanwhile a dozen or so surfers are braving the three metre waves as I explore the thin area of shore between the high water and the cliff. I return for the recorder, wade back across the stream and walk back along the gravel shore knee deep in the foamy wash.

So I hope you enjoy this episode of ‘Sounds of the Copper Coast’...

HIGH TIDE

Down through the years I’ve witnessed 2 separate land slides along the cliffs of The Copper Coast. Both of them during wet weather when the earth is heavy and the vegetation looses it’s grip. On both occasions I felt an overwhelming sense of connection to the planet. It’s hard to describe but it’s a very humbling experience to be present when mother earth demonstrates her strength like this.

On the first occasion I was just walking along the shore of a remote section of coastline when without warning a truck load of earth and rock came hurtling down the cliff. In relative terms, the volume of material that dislodged itself was small, probably just 5 or 6 tonnes in comparison to the immense scale of the cliff. Despite this it felt like the ground around me shook and a deep rumble went through my body.

On the second occasion, a friend of mine Gráinne and I were fortunate enough to have front row seats to the spectacle. It was at Kilmurrin Cove. We were sheltering from the wind and rain under an umbrella, next to a little fire in my washing machine drum, having refreshments. I heard a noise from the cliff and pointed it out to Gráinne who thankfully also got to witness the landslide that happened moments later.

There is a real sense of this force of nature being unstoppable. Time stands still, there’s nothing you can do. It wasn't scary, we were never in danger. I certainly wouldn’t be under a cliff in wet weather. It all settles down within seconds but the feeling stays much longer.

Recently a two tonne boulder (about the size of a small car) came loose in the exact same spot. I didn’t get to witness it but I spend so much time on the shore that I’m quite familiar with all the rocks and I know when something new arrives!

Due to the recent heavy rain a small waterfall has emerged along this same section of cliff. The waterfall is created from run-off water that is drained from the surrounding fields. It only becomes visible a few times a year. These landslides and waterfalls remind me of the ever changing nature of our coastline. The more familiar I become with it’s features the more aware I become of it’s changes.

So I’ve called this episode LAND SLIDE WATER FALL and here is a 23 minute recording of the Kilmurrin waterfall…..Enjoy!

So it’s December here on the Copper Coast and the end of another year approaches.

It’s twilight. I pace up and down on the foamy shore of Bonmahon Beach as my son Alfie, aged 12, surfs, in the fading light.

During the course of this 19 minute recording, visibility drops, the sea and the sky blend into one, the horizon disappears and night descends.

Meanwhile the strength and sound of the waves seem to become more evident.

It’s a sensory phenomenon. It’s known that when you remove one sense, the other senses are increased. Like standing in nature with your eyes closed.

The sea is rough but the waves aren’t particularly big. They still have enough strength to throw a foamy wash 50 or 60 feet up along the sand in an unpredictable pattern.

I’m distracted and misjudge their approach and so I now stand in wet shoes and socks!

It’s such an awe inspiring experience, yet my emotions are mixed. It’s just the two of us in this vast dark landscape and we can’t see each other.

I have a sense of helplessness and fear. I have to overcome these feelings and Trust that he is OK.

Alfie loves surfing, it’s his passion. He’s quite a good surfer too and he doesn’t take risks beyond his abilities.

I finally wade into the sea, call him out and we depart together.

So sit back and relax, close your eyes and share the experience with me.

Twilight on the Shore….

This podcast was recorded in late November on The Copper Coast, here in Southern Ireland. It was a glorious day, the sun was shining and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. There was a light north easterly wind but it was warmer than usual, despite winter starting to take hold. The light this time of year is simply magical and it’s such a gift to be able to witness the changing seasons.

I set up my field recorder just inches above the stream that flows across Kilmurrin Cove on it’s final journey to the sea. It was low tide when I began the recording. However the sound of the sea becomes more evident throughout the recording as the tide returns. During the recording I went about creating a piece of sand art on the banks of the stream.

If you listen carefully you will hear me sorting my tools and raking the surface of the sand with a garden rake. I’m quite a distance from the microphone so I love how the sound travels so easily in the crisp air. I recorded a time-lapse of the sand art being made from one of my giant tripods and captured some aerial footage of it when it was completed. There’s a short film of it on The Art Hand Facebook page if you’d like to see it, just search for 'Journey to the Sea'.

For most of the time I had the whole beach to myself, immersed in the sounds of the stream and the shore, ever aware of the returning tide as I go about making my art.…

...a small aeroplane passes overhead

...a man says hello on his way for a swim

...an occasional oyster catcher and sky lark calls out

...a mother and toddler are exploring the beach in their wellies

...they visit me for a brief chat

I finish my drawing and witness the tide reclaiming the sand. It’s all part of the process…letting go. It never makes me sad...infact it’s quite an uplifting experience and there will be another blank canvas for me tomorrow. And besides, I have my memories of the occasion as well as the sounds and sights that I’ve recorded.

Just as I’m packing up my beach trolley two sea swimmers are braving the elements. Their joyful screams can be heard across the beach! I’m sure the sea is cold this time of years but as they say "Tis grand once ya get down!"

So make a cup of tea, sit back and relax, put up your feet.

I hope you enjoy the episode.

Journey to the Sea.

Join me on a quick stroll over to our horses to give them their morning feed. As I’m exiting the house I meet my wife Miranda with our two dogs, Bella and Yang Yang, returning from their morning walk.

Up the steps, out the gate, across the road and over the field gate to meet Dolly first. She’s a 20 year old cob, a real gentle soul. I walk her to their shelter and fill her bucket. Listen carefully and you’ll hear the skylarks that are glorious this time of year.

Mel is in another field, she’s heard me approaching and is anxious to be fed. She’s a beautiful standard bred and is only a couple of years old. Mel and Dolly are both rescues. We’ve been rescuing horses for years now but these two are keepers! Our daughter Matilda has broken both of them. She has an amazing way with animals.

So sit back and relax or go for a walk of your own with today’s episode of ‘Sounds of The Copper Coast’. 

As always I’d love your feedback, so please find The Art Hand on social media or our website is www.theArtHand.com