Talking Stories Blog

Sound Knowledge

Michelle Scalise Sugiyama | July 18, 2021

“Reading the environment, or more accurately somatic listening to it, is a hunter-gatherer . . . way of gathering knowledge and understanding.”

—Low (2011:298)

People who make their living by hunting and gathering use sound as well as sight to understand, navigate, and manipulate their environment. Among other things, sound is used to attract and drive game, detect resources and threats, repel predators, and predict weather. Thus, hunter-gatherers need to know what sounds to pay attention to and how to interpret them. As potential sources of food, danger, and information, animals are particularly important in this regard. A working familiarity with the noises they make and the circumstances under which they make them is critical to survival.

Photo by MarcusObal

Photo by Clodomiro Esteves Junior

“As Mbendjele hunter-gatherers . . . move about their forest they are hypersensitive to the sounds around them. All members of the party . . . react instantly to a crack, a low rumble, or an animal call by stopping mid-step, balancing on one leg if necessary. Silent and motionless, they strain to hear any follow-up sounds that will tell them whether to run for their lives, chase after their supper, or just continue onwards.”

—Lewis (2009:236)

Photo by Keith Morehouse

Photo by Brian W. Schaller

Across forager societies, much knowledge about the local soundscape is transmitted through song. This practice capitalizes on the ability of song to communicate via two modalities: prosody and words. Thus, both vocal mimicry and lexical description can be used to encode information about the sounds animals make, the contexts in which they are made, and the inferences that can be derived from them. For example, because large animals tend to make deeper sounds than small animals, pitch can be modified to communicate information about species size and formidability. This is illustrated in a Chukchi song about a conversation between a fox and a bear: “the fox speaks in a thin treble voice; the bear answers in a deep bass voice” (Bogoras 1909:269).

Songs are often associated with a story, which furnishes additional information about the animals they reference. In some cases the song itself is a story—not unlike heroic epics such as the Odyssey and Beowulf, which are narrative poems that were traditionally sung, chanted, or recited to musical accompaniment. More commonly, however, songs are short, pithy utterances performed by animal characters. Known as animal story songs, these songs tend to reference one or more of the animal’s distinguishing traits, including vocalizations (Herzog 1935). Indeed, in some cases “the entire song is merely an imitation . . . of the animal’s cries” (Herzog 1935:9). Collectively, these songs and stories provide a catalogue of local animal sounds. For example, among the Mbendjele people of the Congo basin, “there is a common vocabulary of characteristic sounds that are regularly incorporated into accounts and stories” (Lewis 2009:238).

“The growls of animals, chirps of birds, and imitations of the sounds of nature such as rain and wind are basic elements of the melody in many Ainu songs. The tune of an epic kamuy-yukar (song of the gods) in which the hero is an animal god is typical: the sounds of animal gods, such as frogs and owls, and the imitation of sounds created by animal movements are incorporated as a refrain, while the lyrics telling the story are inserted between the refrains.”

—Tanimoto (1999:283)

Photo by Frank Schulenburg

Bear scavenging dead salmon | Photo by Alan Vernon

Sound knowledge has numerous applications in hunting. For example, hunters commonly imitate animal vocalizations in order to lure game within shooting range. The Mbendjele people are a case in point: men attract duikers by imitating the animal’s “come frolic with me” call, and draw monkeys out of the forest canopy by imitating the sound of a fallen infant or the call of an eagle (Lewis 2009:245). As seen in the mimicry of eagle calls, hunters also lure prey by imitating an animal with which it has an inter-species relationship. For example, Kutchin men lure bears by imitating the call of a raven: “If the bear is nearby it may think a raven has discovered carrion and come straight to the sound, expecting to find a free meal” (Nelson 1973:122).

Inter-species relationships are also used to predict the arrival or ripening of seasonal resources. For example, the Bribri of Costa Rica use the call of the nes.wák bird as an indicator that schools of fish have arrived in the rivers and that freshwater shrimp have moved upstream. As they put it, the call of the nes.wák tells them that it is time to fish (Sault 2010:294). Similarly, the Weenhayek of the Gran Chaco use the charata, or Chaco chachalaca (Ortalis canicollis), as an indicator that fruit resources are beginning to ripen. One of their myths explains that this bird has a “singing season”: when the trees begin to bear fruit, the charata travels deep into the forest and begins singing in the treetops (Alvarsson 2012:108-109).

Chaco chachalaca | Photo by Charles J. Sharp

Chañar fruit, Gran Chaco | Photo by Dick Culbert

Greater honeyguide & brown-backed honeybird| John G. Keulemans

Ashy starling | Photo by Yathin S Krishnappa

Image by Matthew T. Rader

One of the most famous indicator animals is the honeyguide, of which there are several species in Africa and Asia. These birds attract humans by singing, then lead them to beehives in order to access the larvae and wax that remain after honey extraction. As a Hadza man explains, “As we walk through the bush in pursuit of honey, tik’iliko the greater honeyguide bird gets our attention with his incessant chatter” (Peterson et al. 2013:89). If the bird is not present, the Hadza mimic its call in order to draw it to them: “if there is no sign of the bird, we get the honeyguide’s attention by a special whistling song. Once connected, we communicate with the honeyguide through whistles and tik’iliko leads us to wild beehives” (Peterson et al. 2013:89). The Hadza have a song about the ashy starling, which habitually harasses the honeyguide, impeding its ability to locate honey: “Ashy Starling and the Honeyguide Bird/The bird ashy starling is harassing,/The honeyguide is disturbed (to the point where he can’t find honey)” (Peterson et al. 2013:89).

Sound knowledge is also instrumental in the detection and tracking of game. For example, Waorani hunters locate prey by listening for the sound of animals moving in the canopy or for urine dripping from the trees (Yost & Kelly 1983:194-196). Moose, too, are detected by listening for sounds made by their movements, such as twigs snapping underfoot or antlers brushing against vegetation. During the rutting season, males can also be detected by the calls they make to attract females and the sounds they make to challenge other males (Nelson 1973:91). Strange as it may seem, carrion can be located by sound as well. The Hadza and Dorobo, for example, scavenge lion, leopard, and hyena kills by attending to vulture flight patterns and listening for prey distress calls (Peterson et al. 2013:73). Tellingly, anecdotal evidence indicates that hunter-gatherers include auditory information when they recount their hunting experiences. For example, Blurton Jones and Konner (1976) report that, after imitating the sound of kudu fighting, one of their San informants advised that this was something to listen for when stalking them.

Photo by Michelle Scalise Sugiyama

Photo by Walter Siegmund

Photo by https://www.dmitrimarkine.com/

Photo by Olga Ernst

Spider monkey | Photo by Arturo de Frias Marques

Capybara | Photo by Bob Johnson

Socratea exorrhiza | Photo by Hans Hillewaert

Lyrics scaffold the use of sound knowledge by providing information about animal habitat and diet. This points hunters to locations where they are most likely to hear the sound cues that will lead them to game. For example, a Tsimane’ song about a spider monkey “refers to the likelihood of finding large groups of spider monkeys on trumpet trees (Tabebuia spp.)” while another “describes the trail left by capybaras (Hydrochoerus hydrochaeris) on sandy riverbanks” (Reyes-Garcia & Fernandez-Llamazares 2019:466, 468). Still other Tsimane’ songs associate white-lipped peccaries with pampas, swampy areas, and the fruiting of paxiuba palms (Socratea exorrhiza), thereby providing information about ecological zones and seasons in which peccaries are available. Lyrics may also encode information about traits–such as odors or markings–that are useful for detecting and distinguishing different species. For example, yet another Tsimane’ song references the strong smell of the capuchin monkey (Cebus apella) (Reyes-Garcia & Fernandez-Llamazares 2019:466).

White-lipped peccary | Photo by I, Chrumps

Lyrics also encode information about activities that place animals in a state of heightened vulnerability. Depending on the activity, the animal’s attention may be diverted, its mobility may be limited, or its energy may be depleted. Mating is a case in point: the Hadza sing of the spurfowl cock, Howalabi, “who is so preoccupied in a courtship display that he is easily shot with an arrow” (Peterson et al. 2013:70). The song advises hunters to take advantage of this situation: “Grey-breasted spurfowl/The spurfowl cocks are strutting (courtship display and ignorant of all else)/Have a look, my brother, and go shoot one with an arrow” (Peterson et al. 2013:70).

“In Western Arnhem Land there used to be a lot of songs that were sung only by children and young people, or by older people who were teaching them the words and meanings. . . . Many of the words imitate bird calls and other such noises. . . . The songs help children learn and remember the habits of various creatures—where to find them, what kinds of food they like, what sort of noises they make.”

—Berndt (1979:90)

Photo by Gary M. Stoltz

Nubian woodpecker | Photo by Brad Schram

Sound knowledge is also instrumental in the detection of threats. Many animals give alarm cries when they sense danger, and hunter-gatherers use this behavior as an advance warning system. This is illustrated in a close call experienced by Kuchingi, an Ache man, as he was out searching for a fellow group member who hadn’t returned from hunting: “he found many jaguar tracks only minutes old by a large stream. Then a bird was flushed out very close and made a cry of alarm. Kuchingi was sure the jaguar was very nearby; he ran back to the camp” (Hill & Hurtado 1996:1). The fresh tracks told Kuchingi that a jaguar had been in the area recently, but it was the bird’s alarm call and sudden flight which told him that the feline was still dangerously close. The Hadza, Dorobo and Maasai use the call of the Nubian woodpecker for the same purpose: if the call comes from directly ahead, it signals danger, such as the presence of a buffalo, but if it comes from behind it can be ignored (Peterson et al. 2013:69).

“Mbendjele listen constantly to the forest. Hearing sound signatures tells them who is there.”

—Lewis (2009:248)

Sound knowledge is also key to interpreting animal cries. A given species may emit a range of sounds, and the meaning of a sound may vary depending on context. As Lewis observes, distinguishing “a monkey’s ‘saw a leopard’ shriek from ‘saw a pig’ yell or ‘found good food’ scream provides important information” (2009:248). Another important skill is the ability to determine whether a given noise was made by a threatening or a non-threatening agent. A description of nocturnal river noises illustrates this problem: “report of the riot at Buruhaar soon spread among the people, with the intimation that the men were coming down to wreak vengeance on their traitorous companion. At nine o’clock . . . I heard with trepidation the sound of approaching paddles . . . yet the sound did not seem to approach nearer. . . . I mentioned it to one of the men, who told me that it was a croaking frog, the paddle-frog” (Wassén 1934:628).

Photo by Profberger

Photo by Brian.gratwicke

Photo by USDA Forest Service

Photo by Donna Dewhurst

Of course, hunter-gatherers cannot always count on alarm calls to alert them to the presence of danger. Thus, in the absence of sound cues, an individual may stumble upon an animal unexpectedly, and, caught off guard, the animal may react aggressively. Moose are notorious for this behavior. As Nelson reports, “everyone in the Koyukuk villages has stories of close calls with bull moose” (1983:166). This is because, despite their large size, “bull moose can move through the thickets with scarcely the slightest sound. This makes them all the more dangerous, because sometimes people find themselves closely confronted without time for a graceful escape” (Nelson 1983:166). A simple solution to this problem, as illustrated by the Mbendjele, is to make noise: when working or traveling in the forest, Mbendjele women will talk, sing, or yodel loudly to avoid surprising dangerous animals (Lewis 2009:237).

Conversely, Mbendjele men use sound to camouflage themselves. This tactic is used when hunting in groups. Upon discovering fresh traces of a herd or a large game animal, the hunters travel to the area where they think the quarry is headed, and quickly prepare an ambush. This process requires regular communication, because “all must know where the others are in order to prevent accidents when the action starts” (Lewis 2009:244). At the same time, the men must avoid alarming their prey. The solution is to communicate using sign language and animal calls: “During the wait and subsequent encirclement men only communicate in these ways. Each local group has its own characteristic bird or animal call. . . . In this way they coordinate their movements without the prey being aware” (Lewis 2009:244).

Ituri rainforest | Photo by MONUSCO

Photo by Thomas Breuer

Photo by Michelle Scalise Sugiyama

Animal sounds are also used to tell time and predict weather. Among the Mbendjele, for instance, “The steady drone of bees returning to their hives at around 4 p.m. indicates that it is time to stop tracking and return to camp” (Lewis 2009:248). Other animals are associated with daybreak. For example, the Hadza call the pearl-spotted owlet Shayeamo, which means “good morning” and refers to its habit of vocalizing at dawn (Peterson et al. 2013:68).

Birds, insects, and frogs are commonly used for weather forecasting. In southeast Australia, the Mara associate noisy cicadas with hot winds, and noisy crickets, frogs, black jays, and magpie-larks with rain (Massola 1968:113). In addition to frogs and jays, their neighbors the Kurnai use the screeches of black cockatoos as a signal that rain is coming (Massola 1968:171). The Hadza use the calls of the ground hornbill and Von der Decken’s hornbill for this purpose (Peterson et al. 2013:68). In the Americas, frogs are widely viewed as rain heralds (Wilbert 1996:191). The Warao, for example, tell a story about the Warekki, large frogs that “make an especially loud noise at the time of the first rainy season, after which they cease” (Roth 1915:195). The widespread association of frogs with rain may stem from their aquatic habitat. This is suggested by a Mbendjele axiom: “If frogs are heard it means there is water to drink nearby” (Lewis 2009:248).

Glossy black cockatoos | Photo by Bowerbirdaus

Von der Decken’s hornbill | Photo by Yoky

“Birds and other creatures announce changes in weather, the impending arrival of visitors, illness, and the presence of fruit, fish or snakes.”

—Sault (2010:294)

Chloroceryle amazona | Photo by Wagner Machado Carlos Lemes

Photo by Michelle Scalise Sugiyama

Birds are associated with a range of meteorological conditions. Among the Weenhayek, for example, the song of the kingfisher (Chloroceryle amazona) is believed to forecast sunshine (Alvarsson 2012:106). The Klamath people of Oregon and California associate the male kals with fog: “This is my song, the kalsh-bird’s, who made the fog” (Gatschet 1890:166). Gatschet explains that the “kals flies around in cold nights followed often by foggy mornings, hence the belief that it makes the fog” (1890:172). The tsiutsíwäsh-bird, on the other hand, is believed to herald the arrival of snow: “The snow made by me, the tsiutsíwäsh-bird, is ready to arrive” (Gatschet 1890:170).

Listening to stories and songs that use vocal mimicry enables the audience to learn (or refresh their memory of) what sounds to attend to and what those sounds mean. The Mbendjele are a case in point: “Hearing these sound signatures while listening to people’s accounts of their experiences both reminds and educates listeners. Younger listeners’ attention is drawn to key warning sounds, and all are reminded of the actions behind the sounds, and what to do or not to do in response” (Lewis 2009:238). Performers benefit too: in the course of mastering these songs and stories, they learn how to produce these ambient sounds themselves. Every performance provides an opportunity to rehearse these skills. As Lewis explains, the Mbendjele “pay careful attention to the sounds of the forest and take pride in mimicking them precisely when recounting their day or chatting. When describing an encounter with a forest animal great attention is paid to . . . meticulous mimicry of the sounds of the encounter, from the thrashing of trees, to the calls or hoots of the animal” (Lewis 2009:238).

Photos by Michelle Scalise Sugiyama

“men re-enact great hunting moments by making all the key sounds as exactly as possible, but also by performing the classic postures and moves of themselves and the animal as the tale unfolds. . . . It is in these moments that the key tactics for approaching different prey animals are discussed and debated, subtle techniques for finding honey and other prized foods are shared, and the youth learn about the key postures and sounds animals and hunters make to guide them during forest encounters. It is in these ways that young men begin their apprenticeship in advanced hunting techniques.”

—Lewis (2009:239)

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References

Alvarsson, J. (2012). Un tesoro cultural: La literatura oral. Etnografía Weenhayek, vol. 9. Uppsala: University of Uppsala and FI’WEN.

Berndt, C. (1979). Land of the Rainbow Snake: Aboriginal Children’s Stories and Songs from Western Arnhem Land. Sydney: Collins.

Blurton Jones, N. & Konner, M. (1976). !Kung Knowledge of Animal Behavior. In R. B. Lee & I. DeVore (Eds.), Kalahari Hunter-Gatherers, 325-348. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Bogoras, W. (1909). The Chukchee. Leiden: E. J. Brill.

Gatschet, A. (1890). The Klamath Indians of Southwestern Oregon. Washington: Government Printing Office.

Herzog, G. (1935). Special Song Types in North American Indian Music. Berlin: Gesellschaft Für Vergleichende Musikwissenschaft.

Hill, K. & Hurtado, A. M. (1996). Ache Life History: The Ecology and Demography of a Foraging People. London: Routledge.

Lewis, J. (2009). As well as words: Congo Pygmy hunting, mimicry, and play. In R. Botha & C. Knight (Eds.), The Cradle of Language, 236-256. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Low, Cs. (2011). Birds and Khoesān: Linking spirits and healing with day-to-day life. Africa: Journal of the International African Institute, 81, 295-313.

Massola, A. (1968). Bunjil’s Cave: Myths, Legends and Superstitions of the Aborigines of South-East Australia. Melbourne: Lansdowne Press.

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Nelson, R. (1983). Make Prayers to the Raven: A Koyukon View of the Northern Forest. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

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Reyes-García, V. & Fernández-Llamazares, A.. (2019). Sing to learn: The role of songs in the transmission of Indigenous knowledge among the Tsimane’ of Bolivian Amazonia. Journal of Ethnobiology, 39, 460-77.

Roth, W. (1915). An Inquiry into the Animism and Folklore of the Guiana Indians. Washington: Government Printing Office.

Sault, N. (2010). Bird messengers for all seasons: Landscapes of knowledge among the Bribri of Costa Rica. In S. Tidemann & A. Gosier (Eds.), Ethno-Ornithology: Birds, Indigenous Peoples, Culture and Society, 291-300. London: Earthscan.

Tanimoto, K. (1999). To live is to sing. In W. Fitzhugh & C. Dubreuil (Eds.), Ainu: Spirit of a Northern People, 282-285. Washington: Arctic Studies Center, National Museum of Natural History, Smithsonian Institution.

Wassén, H. (1934). The frog in Indian mythology and imaginative world. Anthropos, 29, 613-658.

Wilbert, J. (1996). Mindful of Famine: Religious Climatology of the Warao Indians. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Yost, J. A. & Kelley, P. M. (1983). Shotguns, blowguns, and spears: the analysis of technological efficiency. In W. Vickers & R. Hames (Eds.), Adaptive Responses of Native Amazonians, 189-224. New York: Academic Press.

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