Can you hear the coyotes singing?

I live on a farm in a farm house surrounded by productive farm land. The field surrounding the house has an area that can't be farmed because it goes down into a ravine that would be too difficult to navigate with a tractor. Actually, ravine has too steep a connotation, but it's certainly more than a dip.  The less than a ravine, more than a dip area has long been the home of coyote families.  It provides them with protection and a good hiding spot with lots of native sagebrush, grasses and weeds for cover.  At night we hear the coyotes sing.  Dave, my husband, calls it singing but he loves all things canine. He'd befriend  a werewolf during a full moon, for Pete's sakes!  As for myself, the coyote calls sound more like creepy menacing howls.
When the coyotes are howling and yipping at 2:00 AM our German Shepard, Abe, gets really excited. He starts pacing the bedroom, sniffing the air and making this weird whispering bark that he makes before he gets worked up into a full bark.  (Some people might think, why would a big dog like that be in the house at night? See the above reference to Dave.)  This conversation typically insues.
Me:  Honey, wake up, the dog is driving me crazy!
Dave:  What? Oh, I hear the coyotes singing. Isn't that beautiful. I'll open the window.
Me:  That's not what I  meant. The dog wants out.
Dave:  Oh,  OK , I'll just open the window first.