Lake Bray

This location is also only a few feet away from winding trail that reaches to the water’s edge, which opens it to the sounds of dog-walkers, hikers, and fishers. The sounds of cars, and of car horns in the nearby parking lot are also audible. The area over the lake is open to the sky, exposing the recording site to sounds of overhead plane engines. The land is a small peninsula that juts into Lake Bray. It is fringed with reeds, and faces the park entrance. Older yellow and white birch trees grow on the sloped plane, with trunks revealing the marks of beavers (a member of the soundscape unheard in my recordings.)

At the time of recording, dried white pine needles padded the ground, buffering the sounds of footsteps in the forested area. Rotten logs lined the ground, festering with turkey tail fungus growth. Signs of decay appeared along the water’s edge; mushrooms and other fungi emerged among the fallen leaves, moss covered rotten stumps, and lichen on downed branches. Wood fern and scrappy young stands of hemlock grew near the water’s edge, and the smooth bark of beech added contrast further uphill. Sprouts of red maple grew in the more flooded areas as the ground dipped and puddles collected. Crickets hid in the reeds, and songbirds exchanged snatches of melody above. Out in the pond, turtles basked in the sun, piled together on a partially submersed log. Every so often, they slid into the water. On a lower slope at the end of the peninsula, people gathered to fish, and their conversation drifted over.