the bat cave

“Bats frighten me. It's time my enemies share my dread.”

That was Bruce Wayne's answer to Alfred's question why he had chosen the bat as his symbol to fight crime.

Well, I do not dread bats. I am rather fond of them. That is fortunate because I have my own private bat cave in the house.

There are two utility alcoves at the front of my house. Both host bats, but the one on the east side of the house seems to offer what bats want most in a resting place. 

That is all it is. A resting place. They show up only in the night. Drinking from my pool and snatching dinner from the clouds of mosquitoes that plague this part of Barra de Navidad. They then hang out together during the night in that alcove.

By the morning, they are gone. I have no idea where their home is, but I do know a lot of them permanently reside in a cave north of Melaque. Perhaps that is their voting address.

That was true until last week. On Wednesday, Dora was in the process of retrieving the trash can from the alcove when I heard a sharp shriek. When she moved the can, it must have startled bats who had stayed on after their check-out date. I would estimate 20 flew out, and there were at least 10 more who were either too drowsy to fly or who simply did not find any threat from us grounded predators.

For about three days, I thought I had a growing cauldron of bats to keep the mosquito onslaught under control. It turns out it was a passing fancy. When I looked this morning, I was batless in Barra.

It may have been some sort of mating ritual foreign to me. Or maybe that group was simply trying out new homes. The cave in Melaque always seems to be crowded with bats. I don't know.

I do know that the bats still return at night and entertain me with their dining swoops and Naval Aviator in-flight precision of drinking from the swimming pool. It is not often that amusement can also be utilitarian.

And that is not bad for a fly-by-night operation.