It is the still moments before dawn. We listen near a dry outwash at the foothills of the Granite Mountains in the Mojave desert. The air is chill, and sounds carry from far off.
The first birds begin calling in the dark, their voices drifting over the scrubby plains. From rocky slopes come the echoes of a Coyote pack in full cry, while a pair of Great Horned Owls call as they patrol their territory.
As the dawn chorus grows, we hear a variety of western desert birdsong; Sparrows, Wrens, Flycatchers and Thrashers. Jet-black Phainopeplas whistle pleasantly as they flit between yucca bushes. A community of Gambel's Quail call prominently as they socialise, sometimes coming very close and clucking nearby.
A Northern Mockingbird begins a stream-of-consciousness oration, including extraordinary mimicry of Jays and other species. A family of Cactus Wrens sing from atop nearby shrubs, and a tiny Hummingbird buzzes our ear.
As the morning birdsong ebbs, we hear the trill of an Antelope Squirrel, and the soft barking call of a female Roadrunner.