...of mystery

The evening was not without surprises either. If in the morning the groves had fallen silent, showing quite clearly how suspiciously unpleasant silence is among the trees, if at noon the sparrows had cleared off somewhere from the State Farm yard, then by the evening the pond at Sheremetyevo had fallen silent. This was truly astonishing, as everyone for 40km around knew supremely well the renowned chattering of the Sheremetyevo frogs. But now it was as if they had died out. Not a single voice carried from the pond, and the sedge stood soundlessly. It must be admitted that Alexander Semyonovich was upset as could be.

[The Fatal Eggs, Bulgakov, M.]