Even though our yard is small, we are blessed with many live oaks in it, which Great Horned Owls seem to love. Sometimes we hear one hooting at night outside our second-floor bedroom window. Often, it is answered by another owl across the creek, in the distance. Some might think the call is a dark and haunting sound, but, for me, it is a clutch of familiar and comforting childhood notes. During the day, my childhood was full of the screaming of B-52 bombers from a nearby Air Force base, accompanied by city garbage trucks roaring down our road on their way to the dump. But, at night, with the window by my bed open to the darkness, the sounds of crickets, Screech Owls, Great Horned Owls, and frogs prevailed.