Do you hear what I hear?

I saw something out of my window recently that you didn’t see. I mean, I’m fairly certain you didn’t see it. It was a big, super-bright star, low in the eastern sky. I looked it up and it turns out it wasn’t a star, but the planet Venus.

Why do I think you didn’t see it? Because was at 4 a.m. I was not getting up for the day; I was getting ready to go to bed. And this was not unusual. I’m almost always still up at 4. And it’s almost always been that way with me. I can think of a few reasons why, but I’ll mention one of them.

When I was a little kid, I regularly went to story hour at the Coventry library, which, back then, was Cleveland Heights’ only library. Story hour took place one afternoon a week. A librarian—I think her name was Miss Ryan—read a couple of books to kids sitting on the floor in front of her.

One day, in 1953, she read a book called While Susie Sleeps. The book, written by Nina Schneider and published in 1948, talks about all the things that go one while Susie is sleeping: Her parents have some friends over; the bakers make bread for the next day; truck drivers deliver goods to stores; crews pick up trash and clean the streets; and so on.

 This was a mind-blowing revelation to me at age 4. Who knew there was so much going on that I didn’t know about? (To quote our current President, “No one knew this.”)

Since then, I have never wanted to miss anything. And I pick up on a lot that others don’t, just by being awake, and listening, and looking out my windows. And late at night Cleveland Heights, I think, reverts back to its pre-1890s form, when there weren’t many people here.

A couple of blocks from where I live is what was known as Turkey Ridge—the edge of Cleveland Heights that overlooks Cleveland (now known as Overlook Road), where wild turkeys used to roam. The wild turkeys never left Cleveland Heights; people see them often, but not up on that ridge.

I hear lots of animal noises around our house at night. I look out our back windows and see racoons, possum, deer, groundhogs, rabbits, and skunks (which, of course, I also smell), on a regular basis. I hear cat fights. And, at times, I also see coyotes and foxes.

I few nights ago, I heard an owl for a long time. And then, this might have been a coincidence, but I heard a cat screeching, and didn’t hear the owl anymore.

Last year, in the middle of the night, I heard what sounded like a rusty gate, or a squeaky swing, going back-and-forth, over and over. It went on all night, for many nights. And often during the day, too. I went outside, but I saw nothing that could have been making that noise—no gates, swings, loose hinges on shutters or doors, etc. My wife finally figured out that it was a mockingbird. They learn how to imitate sounds, and I guess this one grew up near one of those squeaky devices. (My then-6-year-old grandson was over one day when the mockingbird was quite active and vocal, and after a while he said, “I wish it would mock something else.”) My wife read that the males do that when they’re trying to attract a mate. I guess he found love, because the noise stopped as suddenly as it had started. (He’s her problem now.)

We also hear and see birds and other animals during the day, too. Like the migrating birds we hear for a few days at a time every spring and fall. A few nights ago, I heard some kind of bird all night long (maybe the mockingbird learned how to imitate a bird this time). And the hawk we hear, overhead, every afternoon. And, of course, we see the plethora of deer and skunks, so common in Cleveland Heights. Plus, the many squirrels, chipmunks and birds, including woodpeckers—who, at least, have the decency to confine their woodpecking to daylight hours.

The other kind of animal I hear at night is humans. I hear footsteps in backyards and driveways. I look out, but never see anyone. I hear car doors open and close. Sometimes, I hear car alarms go off. The next day, someone posts to our street e-mail group about their car having been ransacked and wanting to know if anyone else heard anything. Sometimes I respond, but not always, because, I mean, we already know what happened. But I do always want to answer with, “Yeah—but did anyone else hear the owl?” But I resist that urge. I like keeping some of that to myself.