Without any streetlights in the vicinity, our patch of woods is blacker than pitch, except when lit up by Fourth of July fireworks or by a full moon that basks the bay in nighttime white.

Such was the case this past week, when the back yard was so light you could see shadows – at 2:30 a.m., before the fishermen from down the way crank up their trucks, and before the whippoorwill starts its morning cry.

And that was the problem: the shadows taking on imaginary shapes of critters no one wants to see out the bedroom windows, especially in the dead of night. It surely looks like bats heading under the eaves but maybe they’re just swallows hunting insects. Up the road, a friend complains of hundreds of bats in his house, so that’s probably the reason bats come to mind at this hour when sleep has been interrupted by something.

Tomorrow, purchase a bat house or two.

Is it possible that dark shape, that hulk moseying by the edge of the woods near the hammock is the bear? He’s already been here twice in the past several weeks, standing up as big as you please with the plastic birdfeeder cracked in his claws and the limb on the spruce tree bent like a drooping clothesline. The next sighting was of him dragging a garbage bag across the mossy ledges, no doubt to enjoy his stolen feast in the bushes, out of the glaring beams of flashlights.

This particular bear, it is believed, roams around a fairly large swath of the area and is bold enough to shinny up deck posts high off the ground – and to return to the scene despite a hysterically barking dog. Across town, those folks are still talking about their experiences, so that’s probably the reason the shape resembles a bear and I can’t sleep. Perhaps it’s a huge raccoon on a scavenger hunt or merely a harmless porcupine in search of tender, green shoots. But maybe not.

Tomorrow, scour and vacuum the back yard, leaving no stale bread crumb or flake of cereal.

Could it be that cracking of twigs out in the alders is the moose seen by two incredulous girls right in the downtown, in between houses, then lumbering off down the hill toward the wetland? Is that snoring sound coming from a moose right around the corner from this very bedroom or is my imagination only keeping me awake?

Tomorrow, check for tracks on the gravelly wood road … and buy more bungee cords to secure the garbage can lid so the ravens can’t tear open the bags and strew food around to chum up even more wildlife.

Now that the fireworks are over, and the full moon has passed, the nighttime door yard is once again “back in black.” Since I can’t see anything, maybe I’ll quit looking.

And start sleeping.