overwintering scores, what happened and research

Our aim for Overwintering was to bring people together in an immersive, outdoors and musical experience during the darkest time of the year, building connections with each other and the precious estuary habitat and the overwintering birds. We created six visual, audio and written artistic pieces from our time spent together and individually in creative research. Much of this time was spent on the shoreline itself and several sessions involved seeking knowledge from nature experts (scroll down for blog part 1 research)

Each piece explores aspects of the Exe Estuary and her inhabitants, inviting engagement in different ways, often through direct participation – bringing the scores to life. We have made the scores available under a Creative Commons licence for anyone to use. We were delighted to share Overwintering more widely through appearances on Phonic FM/Occupy the Airwaves (recording available Occupy The Airwaves 1:38:30-2:09) and selections from Overwintering performed by Emma at SOAK Live Arts showcase, Plymouth. We ran a Sound walk and recording event for Exmouth Sea Scouts. Scouts learning about the qualities of different kinds of microphone and how to operate recording equipment and spent time immersed in attentive listening together, reflecting on the sounds of and surrounding the estuary, and considering sound in its own right.

Here are the sound and movement scores, recordings and imagery associated with each piece.
.
Some comments from our participants:

‘I like the element of surprise. Every session we’ve been to it feels as though there’s something exciting yet to come. Having thought I was coming to something a bit out of my comfort space, I’ve realised those surprises have been very joyous and a great thing to do with people who are having a go. It made it a really great experience.’

‘enabling and introducing me to new ways of thinking and being and making music and connecting with the estuary and with the birds and being very playful and having fun as well. It’s been a hugely memorable and joyful experience.’

‘It’s so interesting […] how we’ve learnt how depressing it is for wildlife that’s trying to survive and struggling. But it’s left me with a feeling of enrichment, the fact that we’re still lucky to have these types of wildlife and it makes me want to go and collect more and to share that love of things around us that we take for granted and which are very precious.’

We were curious about how Overwintering had impacted the mental or physical wellbeing of our participants. Some answers:

‘Increased my sense of wellbeing, feeling mentally ‘slowed down’.’

‘reminded me of the importance of stillness, appreciation for our beautiful, precious estuary and all the wildlife. I feel calmer, more at peace and connected to my environment.’

‘I felt mentally calmer after each session. It was very liberating to be a bird, and … to make our own noises outside. Also being quietly outside in the dark was very beneficial.’
‘Made me feel more grounded and connected with the local eco-system.’
‘It contributes to my sense that all creatures are our kindred, there’s no separation between them and us! (So reduces my too frequent sense of alienation.)’

Who was involved:
100 people participated in Overwintering in person with many others through exhibition, radio and online: SE Devon Wildlife Rangers, Phil Golder (ex-RSPB), Sammy Allen & Tony Whitehead RSBP, Simon Bates Projects Manager, Three-Rivers Landscape Recovery Project, National Trust – experts sharing knowledge about the birds, behaviours and the habitat on the Exe Estuary, which was vital in informing the new artistic works created; Shaun Spring at The Cabin, Exmouth – supporting the project through use The Cabin for rehearsals and performance events; Dreadnought SW –  interviewed about Overwintering on Phonic FM/Occupy the Airwaves; Exmouth Sea Scouts; SOAK Live Art; RSPB Scotland Insh Marshes Nature Reserve and Curlew LIFE – exhibiting an artwork from Overwintering at their exhibition, Wader’s Welcome, March 2024; Jenny Steer, who volunteered her time as a professional photographer as part of her MA on the relationship between humans and creatures of the River Exe.

We are mindful of how our events cause carbon emissions from participants’ travel -we made this visible and tried to reduce emissions by choosing a venue close to public transport; urging participants to use alternatives to the car; providing information on public transport and cycle route; timing events around public transport; creating a group for participants to share travel by train or car and then calculating the carbon footprint of the project.

While we are get cosy in our homes, out of the cold and shut out the long nights,  the estuary is whistling and buzzing with birds and other creatures taking advantage of the quieter time, the cover of darkness to feed and rest and in the case of migrants from Northern regions, the warmer temperatures. As many people know, our Estuary is an internationally important site for wildlife and habitats in part because of these seasonal visitors. This includes status as Sites of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI), Ramsar, and a Special Protection Area. 

Artists and musicians Emma Welton, Sarah Owen and Anne-Marie Culhane are spending time in January and February listening, singing and sounding with and around the estuary and exploring estuary habitats (reeds, tideline, mud flats).  In January we have been learning about the overwintering birds with South East Devon Wildlife nature wardens, RSPB and other keen birders, spending time at different times of day and tidal cycle and starting to think about creating six pieces or scores including music for voices and instruments, vocal soundings, movement and sound recordings. We are running an estuary sound walk with 14-18 year olds from Exmouth Sea Scouts where scouts will learn about the estuary sounds as well as learn how to record them.

Emma: Over the time I’ve been sitting out on the estuary this winter the bird life out on the estuary has felt increasingly strange: feeding feeding feeding and resting, feeding feeding feeding and resting, and moving around seemingly at random. They thrive in conditions we tend to avoid – the mud, the cold, the wet – never mind whether it’s day or the darkest night.

Inspired by the 3,000 mile migration of the dark-bellied brent geese from Siberia to our estuary, throughout this project I’m making my own migration by bike with my recording equipment from my home in Exeter to the estuary. The brents travel and feed together as families within the crowd, so because I was born on the estuary I’m thinking of one of those we hear brrrk, brrrk, brrrking out there on the mud as my daughter, albeit born at the other end of the migration. 

I come closer to bridging the gulf between my life and that of the birds when I can remain estuary-side for over twelve hours – enough to become part of the tide’s cycle. Then I understand their movements are not random – they are in rhythm, pushed off by the rising water, pulled back by the fresh food from the falling tide, flocking to a field of tasty fertilised grass, choosing to hang out where there is less threat of predation. This becomes a meaningful pace, compared to which the thundering traffic and racing trains appear madly fast. I suppose the sounds of rush hour is the music of human migration.

Here are the recordings which include the beating wings and pumping legs. In the first I play a little bit of ocarina, and in the second, Sarah vocalises.

We are trying to find out what human sounds we can make which feel appropriate. I’m not very happy about the mimicking of the ocarina (even though my bird id app identifies me as a Northern Pintail) because it feels too close to the birds, and potentially disruptive. So I’m trying to work out what music we can make with our voices which is both authentically human, yet sits within the ongoing music of the estuary. I think Sarah’s tentative sounds give us some good starting points.

Sarah:

Huge wide expanse, feel I can breathe more deeply here with this space.

So many curlew here! Hard to comprehend how much they are under threat when we are surrounded by their calling. How different it would be here without them.

Many geese barking, woofing in groups, conversing. At first, I thought the sound was dogs barking but then I realised geese. Sama describes it as a purrrr but I found it hard to translate these sounds as a purrrr, more of a buzzing woof.

Incredible moment of many beating wings flying very close to us. We couldn’t see them, but the sound was stunningly clear.  We didn’t know where, who and how many, but could feel the beating and effect of this collective movement.

Emma’s ocarina is at times hard to distinguish from the bird calls, but there seems to be moments of interaction/conversation – but is it alarming or non-threatening?

Walking down from the bench on to the shore feels like an important transition into a different zone – proximity to the mud, being on the same level, but most strikingly the difference underfoot.

I felt excitement about making vocal sounds in this wide expanse of space. But on hearing my voice come out, I quickly felt uneasy. What was I saying? What is the implication of my vocal sounds? If birds are using their calls to define territory, is it right for me to make bird-like sounds here – what if I am threatening their territory? Sama talked movingly about the impact humans make on the birds, feelings of being at ease or not to feed and rest here, how they can be in a perpetual state of anxiety from being continually disturbed by humans. We have squeezed them into the smallest possible spaces and all they crave is distance and space to feed undisturbed. Maybe these are not the right sounds. How can and should we behave here?

Heard a terrible, painful screaming.  It is hard to know exactly where sounds are coming from – are they behind or in front?  Can’t tell where sounds are initiated – disorienting

So much sound here in full, luscious stereo – we can’t see, but the darkness is alive.

Anne-Marie: Every day is different. An unfolding drama right here which starts in the car park behind Exmouth train station! I’m enjoying discovering the relationship between the different birds, the incoming and outgoing tides and different soundscapes at different times of day. I can visit these seasonal visitors who come from as far away as Greeland is just 5 minutes from my house by bike! I’m noticing it takes quite a bit of time for me to settle, to fully give my attention to the birds and prioritise listening over my other senses. I am often out for several hours, at night or under the moon, with a flask of tea. I tend to become more attentive when I’m standing or sitting still and on my own or without any human distraction. 

Most visits I see the kingfisher who is surprisingly bold for a species I considered a shy being. Her iridescent turquoise stands out so vividly against the chocolate-coloured mud and her thrilling, parallel, hovering, zippiness (up to 40 kph) differs so much from the wading, floating, flapping, probing birds. I’m wondering what her predators are here? And what she sees and how fast her heart beats. I’m trying to find out more about sound, sound production and vision in birds and how their senses make up the world.   Late at night, in the darkness , Wigeon define the dark void of the estuary –  a series of satellites marking location through intermittent pulses of sound, the Curlew’s voice rises, trills and arcs, seagulls chatter – endlessly. I’ve become particularly transfixed by the Curlew and learning about their struggle against changing landuse and their precarious breeding habitats. They have such a strong aural presence in the estuary as well as in folklore. And i was thrilled and shaken to witness a sparrow hawk swoop over my shoulder into a pack of feeding Dunlins and pluck one out in her yellow tallons in a matter of seconds –  while I was standing on the edge of the train station car park. This highly local experience under the moon and stars threads me inevitably to wider earth systems  –  tides, migratory patterns, food chains, moon cycles, relationships between species, extinction, the challenges of the change climate and back again – stresses caused by human, dogs and the constant hum of mechanised sounds from all around this body of water that these creatures too call home.