waiting for detection
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Ronny Hullegie — nature lover in Nijverdal. Here I share what I build and what I hear.
more about meWhat do you hear in a village garden if you keep listening twenty-four hours a day? What do you see in the sky if a camera takes a photo every ten minutes? This is the personal field journal of one such spot in Nijverdal, with home-built equipment.
“You protect
what you know.”
The reason EMSN exists. Biodiversity disappears unnoticed. This system makes it visible.
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Every evening around six a short note appears about the day in the garden. What the microphones caught, what the weather did, who sang and who stayed silent. Written in Dutch.
Read the journal 52.37°N · 6.47°E
Nijverdal · Overijssel · NL
In my garden in Nijverdal there's a handful of home-built measuring kit. A microphone under the gutter on the south side of the house, one under the gutter on the north side, and two microphones under the gutter in the garden right by the shrubs. On top of that a bat sensor, a weather station on the roof, a camera that watches the sky. They note down what passes by: birds, bats, rain, the odd aeroplane. It all runs to a NAS in the shed.
Started in 2025, out of curiosity. I wanted to know what passes by here twenty-four hours a day in such an ordinary place. No nature reserve, just a garden with trees and shrubs in the middle of a village. It's more than you'd expect, if you keep listening.
There are now three fixed listening stations, a separate sensor for bats, and a mobile station that comes along when I go out elsewhere. The Sallandse Heuvelrug, a river floodplain, a night-time walk on the heath. All the data comes together on the NAS and is visible in a handful of Grafana dashboards.
It's a hobby project. The data is open, under CC BY-NC 4.0. Whoever has a use for it is welcome to it. The source code is also open on my GitHub repository, free to read and to reuse.
Three fixed stations and one mobile station listen along. Birds, bats, rustling undergrowth: what the microphones pick up ends up here.
The weather shapes a lot of what the microphones pick up. On a wet morning you hear little; on a clear spring day the garden is full of sound. Migrating birds that call as they pass overhead end up in the recordings too. These pages give the context for what we hear.
Three nest boxes with a camera inside, a sky camera that looks up every ten minutes, and an archive of photos from years past. What an image captures fills in what the ear misses.
Twelve months in a round, each ring a species. Who sings year-round, who passes through only in summer, who slips away in autumn. A needle points to today.
View the year wheelThe code, the databases, the Raspberry Pis in the attic and in the shed, the microphones under the gutters. For anyone curious about how it actually fits together.
Two easy ways to keep up with what passes through here. It’s a hobby project, so no daily newsletter. Only when something happens that’s worth a note.