Night Song

Bessie Anne said she wasn't quite ready to come in the house after putting the kids to bed and stayed out on the porch step to watch the last rays of the sunset.  Frank and Pearl kept her company, writhing and rubbing against her face before settling down at her side.  I tend to think of this as "The Children's Hour."  Because it was well after dark before Bess finally asked to come in, I thought perhaps we'd forgo the now-established evening walk.  No, a habit is a habit, after all.  We all do love our routines.  I snapped on her lead and out we went into the night, not even a sliver of moon to light our way.  When it's dark up here, it's really dark.  There is no ambient light from street lamps or buildings, and there are no nearby houses with light shining from the windows.  Even the lights on my hat had difficult piercing the night so we could pick our way along the drive.  I could see Frank and Pearl only by the glow from their eyes when they turned my way, little headlights in the dark.  A pair of owls were working the area, signaling back and forth, one directly across the road, the other moving behind the garden.  The cats were nervous and stayed much closer to me than usual, realizing they could be fair game for the huge birds.  A stranger chimed in from what's left of the big oak in the goat pen...a call I've never heard before.  From the sound, it also was a big bird.  I wonder what it could be.  My little parade did a quick-march back to the house, the cats looking over their shoulders, and we all went in together, leaving the hunters to sing their night song in the dark.