None of these are deeply significant barks. They're conversational, intended to inform and one learns what they mean.
But then there's the "MOM!!!! Venutians with ATTITUDE have landed and are digging up your flowers!!!" (That was a ground hog.) One learns the difference and which require immediate attention, ranging from a quickly yelled "Quiet!!" to hurrying to see who's arrived, to picking up the phone and dialling 911 while on the way to check to see what the specific threat might be.
The very day after the exercise in cooperation when the yard sale was across the street, there was a bark I'd never heard before. It was on the variety of the "Venutians have landed" bark, but there was an extra edge to it.
Shortly before the barking began, I'd been out back with the dogs and had been irritated by a persistant, loud, but unfamiliar roar. Closest I could come to identifying it was that someone might have been working on the engine of one of the very large township trucks. I live across the street from the town garage, and now and then there are definitely some unusual sounds. But this? I'd never heard anything like it, couldn't place it, and found it very irritating. And it went on. And on. And then stopped. And I didn't think any more of it.
Soon afterwards, while I was folding laundry, the dogs went to the front door and the new bark started. It started with that "Mom? There's a.... a ... a.... " tone to it, but rapidly changed to a "Ummm ... Mom? You'd better come and look at this" sound.
So, I did. Well. Gee. Great balls of fire.
I thought it must have just landed, but if it had, man, they'd done a heck of a job threading the trees and power lines. But, no. I remembered that odd sound. They must have been inflating it back there. One irritating mystery roar explained.
It started out behind the garage. Then, it began to move, just as if it were walking out from behind the building. The bark that greeted this event had to be heard to be appreciated.
Once it emerged, it appeared to have legs. And a couple of little heads grew out of its belly. Those elicited yet another tone to the barking (and yes, I felt truly protected.)
The thing began to bob and weave and develop a life of its own. And then, though we did not get a picture of it, it began to die. A man began to swing from a bar down by the basket, and kept swinging until his momentum tipped the basket over. And the great pumpkin head collapsed, and all the air rushed out. The dogs fell silent. It was a somber moment. The dogs mourned briefly, and then lost interest, just as they do when the chipmunks cease squeaking and the rabbit's shrieks fade away for good.
Whatever it had been, it was now dead, and no longer worth barking at.