Well, shucks - after Rich's story, I hesitate to share my rather banal experience. But, what the heck... Mid-June, 1973. East foothills of the Henry Mountains. I've been hiking since 2:30 AM, crossing the "Dry Desert" (no kidding, that's the name on the map). Ran out of water late afternoon, haven't found any since, and I'm getting nervous. Full Moon rises, enabling me to continue hiking well after dusk to locate the only water source for miles, a natural spring. Only with the help of the moonlight am I finally able to find the spring, around 11:30. Exhausted, I sleep for about two hours, but then I awake to an ethereal but delightful chorus of coyotes wailing and frogs croaking. It sounds as if I'm surrounded by dozens of coyotes and hundreds of frogs, only a few yards away. I can't see them in the moonlight, but they're there. I'm strangely comforted by the music and soon I go back to sleeping soundly. Kate Beckinsale doesn't show up at all. Kim