I love twilight and evening, the slight chill of the air and the almost primal sense of danger and power that comes with the soon approaching darkness. A nice twilight can feed a bit of adrenaline to finish setting up a tent, stoking a fire, or finishing the last bit of trail to get out of the woods.
It’s an deeply connected feeling, like the whole of nature around you is also feeling the travail of night approaching and each creature in its own way is also preparing.
Once you’re settled and secure, you can examine what’s around you and see the birds settling into their roosts, at first with a lot of activity and then just the movements of individuals as they settle into an order and height they prefer. The crows and ravens seem to be the last to be brave enough to call loudly into the approaching dark, still calling late enough that a raven and an owl call can be heard together.
If the right time of year the chorus of frogs becomes eerily loud in the otherwise still night. In the height of summer crickets and cicadas can be heard, too. In the fall though the crispness of the air brings an even stiller night. One that lets the owls call be heard clearly along with the flapping of bat wings and the occasional whoosh of the owl finding a rodent.
As the last of the daylight leaks from the sky you hear less and less, and each thing you do hear becomes important and directional. You’re secure and settled and the dim light of morning isn’t far away.