One summer night, a tremendous commotion in the driveway split the darkness. There was a chaotic scrabbling sound, and then one of the cats screamed. The younger one, we thought from the voice.

As we made our way to the window to look out, a high-pitched, retching barking sounded, in rhythmic bursts like dog-yelping. The cat hissed and spit.

We turned the outside lights on. A fox was pacing back and forth in front of the garage. The cat was trapped in there under the car; her eyes glowed under the bumper.

The fox was not immediately fazed by the lights. The choking barks continued and the fox maneuvered near the garage doorway, trying to terrify the cat into dashing for the woods.

I stepped quietly to the other car parked by the front door, and turned on the headlights. They flooded the driveway and front of the garage with a ghostly, artificial iridescence. The fox got confused and darted up the driveway, then down, then back again, not wanting to let the cat-meal go. The cat, presumably understanding what the sudden radiance meant and keeping its wits, continued to crouch under the car.

Finally the fox ran for the trees, the cacophony ended, and the summer evening quiet was put back together. An hour or two later, the cat scratched at the door as usual.

Weird sounds come out of the woods at night. Sometimes there’s crashing, stamping and heavy snorting near the back door, too close for comfort. Some nights the coyotes howl. It’s sort of a high-pitched baritone, and it has a definite beauty that’s encased in lurking wildness – the terror of whatever’s out there.

When the cows at the dairy farm miles away bawl at night, you wonder if it’s a choir of the damned. By day it’s like a kind of cute yodeling. The birds hush at night – except for the occasional owl doing exactly what owls, like foxes, are supposed to do – but speak at sunrise.

Our optimism tells us the first created thing was light. “Let there be light,” the God of Moses, Jesus and Muhammad says. But before the light, there was the sound of that voice. The Sufis say all music is an echo of that first note that brought order to the chaos. Out of the howling darkness comes bird song.

-Dana Wilde, dwilde@bangordailynews.net