I was awakened at 4 by the barking of a fox. This is not a rare occurrence. What made it memorable was how close the fox seemed to be. Right beneath the bedroom window from the sound of it. 

For years after we moved here I thought this sound was the screech of an owl or some kind of wounded animal, so distressed did it seem. It troubled my sleep, made nightmares of my dreams. The night itself seemed to be speaking, issuing a warning, sounding an alarm.

I know now that this howl is the bark of a fox, going about its foxy business, further proof of the wild kingdom that flourishes just outside these four walls. 

I no longer fear this sound, even if it wakes me up.  I just read for a while to settle my jangled nerves, taking comfort in the fact that we share this place with the animals who were here before us.