Hoots

I could hear hoots of laughter coming from the next room.

The owl hoots.

The owl hoots 'woo woo'.

And then the happenings of some wild and remote place will be heard by electronic ears and recorded and catalogued in a digital language of waves. Crests and troughs carrying the muted hoots of owls, the lonesome calls of wolves, the wind raking through spruce boughs, or a kind of purity and peacefulness beyond description, glabrous as glare ice and just as condensed.