Holy Batman! 🦇
Today’s Word is about bats. Not the bats they used in the World Series, but bats, the animal. Bats in general and one specific bat.
Before we get into my personal encounter with a bat, I’d like to set the scene. First of all, I’m not a big fan of bats. I think it’s just their appearance that puts me off. Kind of a frightening-looking face, tiny furry bodies attached to wings that resemble a stretched-out garbage bag, and they hang upside down in caves or belfries. I’m not sure I have any belfries around here, but if I do, I’m sure there are some bats in them, hanging upside down!
There are some misconceptions about bats. I did a little research and came up with these facts:
The phrase “blind as a bat” is so common that people take it for granted. In truth, bats can see quite well, often better than humans at night. While it is true that many species rely heavily on echolocation to hunt and navigate in the dark, their eyes are perfectly functional.
Many people assume all bats drink blood. Out of more than 1,400 species of bats worldwide, only three feed on blood, and those species are found exclusively in Latin America. The rest survive on fruit, nectar, insects, or small animals.
Contrary to the dramatic swooping scenes in films, bats do not intentionally fly into people’s hair. When they appear to swoop close by, they are usually chasing insects that happen to be near a person. In general, bats want nothing to do with us.
A single insect-eating bat can devour thousands of mosquitoes in one night, making them natural allies to farmers and backyard barbecues alike.
Finally, bats are often linked to disease, especially rabies. While it is true that some bats can carry rabies, the risk is extremely small. Less than one percent of bats are infected, and the chance of transmission to humans is rare.
So, that ends our zoology class for today, kids, but all those misconceptions play perfectly into my little bat story.
It all began on an early evening in the summer of 1969 in the town of Quesnel, B.C. My roommate, Steve Everson, and I lived in a two-bedroom apartment across the bridge from town. I was the early morning DJ at the radio station and was just about to get some sleep before my alarm clock rang when Steve banged on my door and said, “I think there’s a bird in the living room!” I got up, put my robe on, and went with him down the hall toward the living room, muttering, “What would a bird be doing in the living room?”
As we came around the corner of the kitchen, something swooped down over our heads! “That’s not a bird…it’s a BAT! AAAGGGGHHH!” And like the 3 Stooges (only there were just 2 of us), we scrambled back down the hall and into our bedrooms, slamming the doors.
We cautiously reunited in the hallway and had to come up with a plan to get rid of the bat. This is where all the misconceptions came into play.
First, we had to suit up so the bat wouldn’t get tangled in our hair, bite us on the head, and give us rabies. So, Steve went into the bathroom, grabbed a bath towel, and wrapped it around his head. I reached for my white Stetson cowboy hat.
Just in case the bat ended up on the floor, Steve donned a pair of cowboy boots, and I put on a pair of work boots. I was still in my robe. Steve grabbed his ski jacket and ski goggles. You can’t be too careful when dealing with bats. The only means of protection I had was my lacrosse stick. I figured if the bat started flying in our direction again, one swing with the lacrosse stick should take care of it.
Down the hall we crept, peeked around the corner of the kitchen into the living room, and there it was, the bat, clinging to the living room drapes! I couldn’t really tell if he was hanging upside down or not! As we tiptoed into the living room, the bat took flight again, and once again down the hallway we ran!
This wasn’t working. We huddled and realized we had to be more aggressive. Back down the hall a third time, this time, I headed for the apartment door and opened it wide, giving the bat an escape route. Back into the living room we went, and perhaps our movements frightened the bat, because he took off again, right toward us! This time, instead of retreating, I took a swing with the lacrosse stick and got him! I didn’t kill him, just stunned him. With the stick, I scooped him up and threw him down the hall through an open window. It was a throw that would have made Jack Bionda proud. Away he flew. Bat gone!
Well, we scrambled back into the apartment, closed the door, and congratulated each other on a job well done. Then there was a knock at the door. We weren’t expecting anyone. I opened the door to find my old friend from high school, Doug Wilson. He had come to Quesnel for a surprise visit. He stood with a strange look on his face. It was then that Steve and I realized we were still in our bat hunting outfits, he with the towel wrapped around his head, ski jacket, goggles, and cowboy boots, and me in my robe, work boots, boxer shorts, and cowboy hat.
Doug said, “Am I interrupting something?”
It was a story that both Steve and I never forgot and a sight that’s burned into Doug’s brain forever.
I’m sure he was thinking, “These guys are bat-sh*t crazy!”
Till next week...
Wayne
