The Brown Bat

The brown bat with wings the size of my hands, buzzes over our heads, derailing conversation. Nine variously shaped and colored naked people lounge in the deep & wide hot spring pool in the foothills of the San Luis Valley. It’s daytime. I warn the sweet blond woman who wanted to get closer to it that bats flying in the daytime may be disoriented and sick. I’d found a similar bat one day in my backyard a few years ago. Animal Control said not to approach it. That bat died within a few hours.

I feel as though the bat is flying at me. Then he splashes into the pool, within arm’s reach. I scoot my bare body through the still waters, away from him, while he swims with his wings towards the shore. He pulls himself up the rocks and into the bushes. “Is he gone? Can you see where he is?” we all chatter at once.

In a flash I remember stories about bats: bats that get tangled in your hair, so you have to shave it off; bats swooping in near our faces as we run out to the tent in my cousin’s backyard at dusk, balancing a big bowl of popcorn in my hands; bats sneaking into our apartment when I was a child & Dad swinging a broom at them each time to chase them out; bats that have rabies and bite you and then the painful series of shots needed to avoid horrible suffering and mental derangement.

Suddenly the bat launches into the air again, skimming our heads. A few of us startle and scream.

Later at the registration center I mention seeing the bat in the daytime. The host says, ”When in doubt, be cautious. But it sounds like a local bat and in the spring they often feed in the daytime due to the cold of night. And bats dipping into the hot springs pool are not unusual around here.”