Chiroptera: It's a Batty World
We just returned from an overnight trip to the family ranch near Gordon. It was great to see Mom and Dad, and Uncle Gary, but we didn't get to do any hiking like we usually do, because it rained for most of the short time we were there. This time, though, the wildlife came to us.
As soon as we arrived, Meagan claimed a bedroom for herself, which should have been a rare treat for her. She went to bed soon after Victoria and Levi crawled into their sleeping bags in the dormitory. Mom and I were still sitting at the dining room table, talking, when Meagan suddenly dashed out of her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She had been lying in the darkened bedroom, nearly asleep, when she noticed the sound of something flying around the room. At first, she thought it was a moth, but when she opened her eyes, she could just barely see a rather large creature flying around and around near the ceiling. It was either a giant moth or--a bat! That's when Meagan bailed.
Dad slept through it all, but Victoria and Levi got up to see what the commotion was all about. Meagan was about ready to join them in the dormitory when Uncle Gary donned a pair of leather gloves and, armed with a metal dust pan, entered the bedroom to deal with the bat. It didn't take long for him to stun the culprit and take it outside. Meagan was able to return to her bed, but she informed us the next morning that she didn't sleep very well. I wonder why not?
Bats don't really deserve their bad reputations. After all, one brown bat consumes as many as 3000 mosquitoes every day. As this children's song tells us, "Bats eat bugs, they don’t eat people, Bats eat bugs, they don’t fly in your hair..." However, some bats carry rabies and, unfortunately, a friend of Meagan's had to endure a series of painful rabies shots after a close encounter with a bat. So, I guess Meagan is justified for not wanting to share her room with a bat.
My first experience with a bat happened when we still lived at the Oxnard Hotel in Norfolk. I was waiting impatiently until it was time to leave for the drive-in, but we couldn't go until Dad caught the bat that was circling near the 20-foot ceiling in the lobby. I remember a tall ladder and a fishing net. I don't remember the actual capture, but we got to the drive-in that evening before the movie started, so Dad must have successfully disposed of the bat.
I remember another time at the ranch, not too many years ago, when Mom and I were up in the middle of the night. I was next in line to use the bathroom when she came out and asked me to come and see if I could figure out what was lying on the bathroom floor. It was kind of like the blind leading the blind, since neither of us were wearing our glasses, but we finally decided that it was a bat on the floor next to the bathtub. We didn't want to wake anyone to help remove the bat, and we certainly didn't want to deal with it ourselves, so we turned a bucket upside down over the bat, and attached a sign that said something like, "There's a bat under this bucket!" When we got up the next morning, some fearless person had removed both the bucket and the bat.
Maybe I should have saved this topic for Halloween, when bats are more commonly discussed. At preschool, we sing songs about bats in October, and the kids get to look at the dead bat that I keep in a zip-lock bag. (Thanks, Uncle Gary. I love getting your packages in the mail almost as much as the children love seeing the treasures that you send for our Discovery Center.) Uncle Gary offered me this most recent dead bat, too, but I told him that one bat was enough.
As soon as we arrived, Meagan claimed a bedroom for herself, which should have been a rare treat for her. She went to bed soon after Victoria and Levi crawled into their sleeping bags in the dormitory. Mom and I were still sitting at the dining room table, talking, when Meagan suddenly dashed out of her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She had been lying in the darkened bedroom, nearly asleep, when she noticed the sound of something flying around the room. At first, she thought it was a moth, but when she opened her eyes, she could just barely see a rather large creature flying around and around near the ceiling. It was either a giant moth or--a bat! That's when Meagan bailed.
Dad slept through it all, but Victoria and Levi got up to see what the commotion was all about. Meagan was about ready to join them in the dormitory when Uncle Gary donned a pair of leather gloves and, armed with a metal dust pan, entered the bedroom to deal with the bat. It didn't take long for him to stun the culprit and take it outside. Meagan was able to return to her bed, but she informed us the next morning that she didn't sleep very well. I wonder why not?
Bats don't really deserve their bad reputations. After all, one brown bat consumes as many as 3000 mosquitoes every day. As this children's song tells us, "Bats eat bugs, they don’t eat people, Bats eat bugs, they don’t fly in your hair..." However, some bats carry rabies and, unfortunately, a friend of Meagan's had to endure a series of painful rabies shots after a close encounter with a bat. So, I guess Meagan is justified for not wanting to share her room with a bat.
My first experience with a bat happened when we still lived at the Oxnard Hotel in Norfolk. I was waiting impatiently until it was time to leave for the drive-in, but we couldn't go until Dad caught the bat that was circling near the 20-foot ceiling in the lobby. I remember a tall ladder and a fishing net. I don't remember the actual capture, but we got to the drive-in that evening before the movie started, so Dad must have successfully disposed of the bat.
I remember another time at the ranch, not too many years ago, when Mom and I were up in the middle of the night. I was next in line to use the bathroom when she came out and asked me to come and see if I could figure out what was lying on the bathroom floor. It was kind of like the blind leading the blind, since neither of us were wearing our glasses, but we finally decided that it was a bat on the floor next to the bathtub. We didn't want to wake anyone to help remove the bat, and we certainly didn't want to deal with it ourselves, so we turned a bucket upside down over the bat, and attached a sign that said something like, "There's a bat under this bucket!" When we got up the next morning, some fearless person had removed both the bucket and the bat.
Maybe I should have saved this topic for Halloween, when bats are more commonly discussed. At preschool, we sing songs about bats in October, and the kids get to look at the dead bat that I keep in a zip-lock bag. (Thanks, Uncle Gary. I love getting your packages in the mail almost as much as the children love seeing the treasures that you send for our Discovery Center.) Uncle Gary offered me this most recent dead bat, too, but I told him that one bat was enough.
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