Just back from a night hike -- with all the little ones wearing glowsticks (they looked like a flock of free-ranging northern lights), Taffy with a flashing blue collar (looking like she just hopped off the TARDIS), everyone bundled up against the cold.
The owls did not hoot.
The wolf pack did not sing back to us in harmony (although there was a distant bit of a howl)
But the stars were out -- we found Orion, and learned how to track from there to Sirius in Can...is Major; to the Pleiades, Aldebaran (and with that Taurus); and Castor and Pollux in Gemini, not to mention the North Pole and it's entourage.
And then, well, then... the ice on the bay begin to thrum and sing its own old magical song. As the nights get cold, and the lake starts to make ice, there are deep rumbling booms, some almost electronic chords that remind one of Star Wars and light sabre duels, fascinating (and if you don't know what it is, unsettling!) night music as the pressure forces cracks through the ice and the lake tightens up. It is incredible. We stood out there, until a little bitty moon, and just listened.
You just don't hear that in a city. This video isn't of our lake, but it gives you a bit of an idea.