Sunset Story

A Maine neighbor recently said there were vestibular bats roosting at her house.  “Vestibular?”  It’s her idiosyncratic locational, not species, description.  The bats hang upside down in her vestibule in the middle of the night, resting and digesting for a while before flying off for another meal.  On the dock for tonight’s twilight swim I discovered umbrellic bats (bumbershootal bats for Anglophiles).  The lake, completely calm, reflected a reddish-orange band of light filtered through the low clouds on the horizon.  Entranced by the sunset I did not initially register the nearby squeaks.  They persisted, I heard them, and knew bats to be their source.  Two market umbrellas on the dock are the only places a bat could hide; the squeaks came from the larger umbrella on the right.  I loosened its ties, slowly spread its ribs, and looked inside.  A furry brown knot perched at the top of the pole, a short distance from the umbrella’s highest vents.  It was difficult to distinguish the knots features but it looked to contain at least two bats.  I did not want to disturb it further, gently closed the umbrella, and sat with one eye watching the sunset and the other watching for the bats to crawl from beneath the canvas.  Ten minutes later the sun was down.  Despite many squeaks from within the umbrella no bat emerged.  I tired of waiting and returned to the house.

2 thoughts on “Sunset Story”

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