Mike and I went camping on the property just above the boulders. It was our first night on the property. June-hot, the air wouldn’t move, it stuck to us like warm sugar water. As evening fell, a nice breeze finally blew up. A ¾ moon splashed through the forest into out tent. 12:21 am, a sudden, sharp, insistent cough about 20 feet from our tent. Went on for a long time, Mike asked “what the hell is that noise?” He flipped on the lantern and barked back at the unseen animal aggressively. The sound stopped. 5 minutes later, a few barks hacked out; maybe 100 feet down the hill. The next day when we returned to Decatur, I looked up animal sounds online; it was the territorial bark of the gray fox. There were fox dens under the boulders; one of them was active. We had camped in the foxes’ side yard. No wonder they were pissed.
3 am: Horned owl.
Whippoorwills’ wistful sounds off and on throughout the night.
As the soft light of dawn crept across our tent, birds awoke in an explosion of song. The morning chorus was amazing.