Listening in the Night

“Sue! Wake up! Come here!”
It was 1:30 AM and Den was on the balcony.
I shuffled my way to the bathroom to get my glasses.
“Come here! You don’t need to see, just listen!
It’s a cow elk chirping!”

The day before, during a thrift store adventure trip,
a friend had told me of her middle-of-the-night adventure
when she thought she had heard an elk.
“I know what elk sound like,” she said. ”I’ve heard them before.”
“The Pennsylvania Game Commission doesn't allow elk
to remain on the south side of I-80,” I responded,
“and you live pretty far from 80.
Maybe you heard a raccoon.”
“Maybe, but when you get home, ask Den if he thinks it could be an elk.”

As we sat around the fire that night, I told Den her story.
He suggested an injured rabbit instead,
whose squeals could be reminiscent of an elk.

Now it was the middle of the night
and Den was hearing an elk.
An elk, or maybe an owl with an injured rabbit.
The descending grunts were followed by piercing squeals.
We stood on the balcony, listening.
The sound seemed to come from the horse pasture.
Den shone his flashlight around.
Nothing.
I went downstairs to get a different listening angle.
Den followed,
then went outside on the deck
while I groped for my iPad to record the sound
which continued unabated.
Den walked off barefoot through the yard,
and I followed his bouncing light.
Ouch! Acorns!
Thump! The garden cart.
I soon found myself in the middle of the pasture,
ankle deep in the cold dew
recording the sounds continuing in the darkness to my right.
There were only ascending notes now,
no squeals.
I whistled for Den, wanting him to light up the area
but he had disappeared.
I heard a mouse at my feet
and a scratching in the tree behind me.
I whistled again, louder.
I then heard irritated stomping from under the big oak to the left.
It sounded like it was made by Quite Large Hooves.
I pondered my situation.
The headline would read
“SLOW BAREFOOT WOMAN INJURED BY ELK”
I whistled again.
“Den!”
There was more animated stomping and several big snorts,
but no Den.
He and his flashlight must be on the other side of the barn.
Remembering that discretion is the better part of valor,
I retreated to the house,
where I found Den in bed, snoring.
“Hey! I need your light!
...and some shoes.”
We went back to the pasture,
faster this time.
The area under the oak was now silent and empty,
but plenty of grunts and squeals came from the apple tree.
Den shone his light toward the tree,
then up into its  branches
where we saw the backside of a porcupine, grunting.
Further illumination showed a second porcupine, squealing.
We watched Nature’s show for a while,
laughed,
then returned to bed.

Technological incompetence prevents me from loading audio. Frustratingly sorry