Don’t whistle at night, or you’ll attract bad spirits or misfortune (including specific legends about the Northern Lights and wildmen)

[Scene: A cold evening in Yellowknife, Northwest Territories. Raj and Leo are standing outside, staring at the shimmering Northern Lights. Raj is bundled in a parka, looking uneasy.]

Leo: (whistling a jaunty tune)

Raj: (eyes widen) Dude! What the hell are you doing?

Leo: …Whistling? Trying to match the tempo of the lights. You know—art meets science?

Raj: (grabs Leo’s arm) Stop. Right now. Do you want to get snatched by a shadow spirit? Or worse—summon a wildman?

Leo: (laughs) A wildman? Raj, I think the only thing we’re summoning is the attention of a bored raccoon.

Raj: I’m serious! My grandma told me when you whistle under the Northern Lights, it draws spirits down. Mischievous ones. Some say they take your voice. Others say they mimic you and lead you into the woods.

Leo: (chuckles) Okay, okay, I’m not mocking. But don’t you think it’s… maybe just a way to keep kids from wandering around late at night?

Raj: It’s not just a bedtime story, man. Inuit elders, Cree stories, even the Dene—so many groups talk about it. Whistling invites trouble. The lights aren’t just pretty—they’re alive.

Leo: I’ve heard those stories too. They’re beautiful—like oral poetry. But from a physics perspective, the Northern Lights are just solar particles interacting with Earth’s magnetic field. No spirits involved. Just charged ions making magic.

Raj: That’s what you say. But how do you explain that time I whistled outside and found my phone cracked ten minutes later?

Leo: (smirks) You mean the time you dropped it on the ice while taking a selfie?

Raj: Coincidence? Maybe. Or maybe the spirits didn’t like my ringtone.

Leo: Or maybe you need a better phone case.

Raj: Look, you can analyze this stuff all you want. But my uncle told me he heard voices mimicking him after whistling one night. Deep in the Yukon, camping alone. No humans for miles.

Leo: Could’ve been an echo, a fox, or even a raven—they mimic sounds too. Nature’s full of weird, logical explanations.

Raj: But what if some of the stories are true? Just because science hasn’t proven spirits exist, doesn’t mean they don’t.

Leo: True. But believing in something just because we can’t disprove it—well, that’s a slippery slope. I mean, by that logic, I should fear the Moon turning into cheese if I hum after 10 p.m.

Raj: (grinning) Hey, don’t mock cheese traditions. That’s sacred to some people.

Leo: (laughs) Fair point. But seriously, wouldn’t you feel freer if you didn’t have to worry about whistling or offending invisible beings?

Raj: It’s not about fear. It’s about respect. My elders believed in these things. Whether literal or symbolic, they taught us humility. The land isn’t ours to command.

Leo: That I respect. I just think science can coexist with tradition. Maybe we just interpret the same mystery in different ways.

Raj: Maybe. Still not gonna let you whistle next to me though.

Leo: Fine, I’ll hum quietly. But if I start levitating or speaking in tongues, you owe me an apology.

Raj: Deal. And if a wildman shows up, I’m pushing you toward him.

Leo: (smiling) Then I’ll use my rational charm to convince him to join us for cocoa.