Instead, two large gray forms suddenly leaped toward the street, and there was the sound of hooves clattering on the driveway. Deer had been drinking from the hose-- no more than twenty feet from where I stood-- and had ignored my presence (and the cat's antics) until I'd turned the light toward them, whereupon they panicked and fled. I heard several other deer run down the street following the two which had been in my yard. Had I known they were there, I wouldn't have disturbed them. The whole small herd might have come to drink from the hose, one by one.
The overcast has persisted, making the sight of stars rare and keeping the still night air unusually warm. Other than the brief noise of the fleeing deer, there has been no sound of wildlife all night, other than the now ubiquitous crickets, whose chirping is ceaseless while the dark lasts. The summer night vibrates.