The bayou sings behind a curtain of dripping moss. Frogs, crickets, and insect wings produce an unusual sense of space. Occasionally we hear the far off hoot of an owl echo among the cypress trees.

This was an unusual evening; I sensed it in the developing mood of the bayou. Rain water dripped from the moss-covered cypress trees and the frogs sang, alternating back and forth from left to right, then a mosquito and the far off hoot of an owl. The air was warm and humid, perfect for sound to travel over great distances.

I set up the microphone quickly about two feet off the ground and underneath a bush at the edge of the water. I peeled out a long stretch of cable and then settled in, comfortably, for the long wait.

The night passed slowly... It took discipline to remain in place the whole night and roll tape through the morning. But I'm glad I did, because nine years later I traveled more than 2000 miles just to record Bayou Meto, again.

The area had changed so much in appearance that I had to use a map and signs to get there. I discovered newly built vacation and retirement homes. Today the noise of traffic and air conditioners dominates. This is the last recording of its kind at Bayou Meto.