Four a.m. is the Armpit of Time. It's the hour no one wants to ever see. It predates when most early-risers go vertical, and even the nocturnals have burrowed in by then, quick! before daylight nails their coffins shut. However, others do seem to like it, like hunters and fishermen. I suspect they prefer the cover of darkness for the killing. A few other people are awake, praying for the souls of the dying deer and the gasping trout.
Here is some other stuff which happens at four o'clock:
I am awake and I can't get up. After all, what if I can get back to sleep? Hey, it could happen. It won't, but it could. Meanwhile, the neighbor's dog is hollering, "HEY, I'M UP!", as he waters the bushes. If I didn't know and love the cur, I'd be beyond pissed. Speaking of dogs, my dog might, having scarfed his weight in plums fallen from the tree, be in the bathroom exploding with diarrhea. Knowing toilets are only for drinking, he's no doubt using the carpet. I love dogs, but I must say that their timing for eliminating toxins sucks. Also, the fact that he made it to the bathroom would impress me much more if it weren't my bathroom.
Four is even too early to put on the coffee. As if that would help.