In last week’s edition of the Rogue Wanderer, I closed with Lane and I enjoying a peaceful getaway at the Running Y Ranch — that is until discovering a party-crashing bat and naming it Benson, but I’m getting ahead of the riveting details. Here is what unfolded (and flew).

I was sleeping, or trying to, in the upstairs bedroom, while Lane bivouacked in one downstairs. I kept hearing banging and knocking from below and felt my frustration growing as I could not understand why Lane kept making so much noise. 

The next morning, when greeting the fresh day and one another, he calmly asked me, “Are you afraid of bats?” To which I answered, “Bats? No, why?” He replied, “Because we have one in our cabin.”

“You mean inside this cabin right now? Our chalet has a bat in it? There’s a bat somewhere in here and we don’t know where it is?” I asked for clarification. 

“Yes.”

Then he shared how, after I had retired and the lights were off, he’d heard something hitting the walls and blinds. Upon investigating, he switched on a light and witnessed a large bat cruising around the main living area. It proceeded to land on the stair post where Lane was able to ascertain its impressive size. He told me that the body with folded wings was about the size of his hand. Now, that’s a good-sized airborne mammal, especially when it’s playing hide and seek. 

We phoned the office to report the surprise guest. Veronica at the desk sounded shocked, but we assured her we had a plan. We honestly felt bad for the poor mis-echolocated creature, and wanted nothing more than for it to find its way out where a myriad of insects flew ignorant of their demise. 

I’ve written about bats before after attending a Bugs-R-Us educational talk. Bats get a bad rap about messing up your hair, carrying rabies, sucking your blood, talking like Bela Lugosi, etc. 

In truth, any warm-blooded mammal can carry the rabies virus. According to the website EcoHealth Alliance, “One bat is capable of eating up to 1,200 mosquitoes in a single hour. Between malaria, dengue fever, and other vector-borne illnesses, mosquitoes claim roughly 750,000 human lives per year.”

In the United States, fewer than 10 human deaths result from rabies infections annually. A rabid animal will exhibit unusual and, often, aggressive behavior. This guy behaved like a proper bat — emerging at night to feed, and roosting somewhere during daylight hours. And as for talking like Lugosi, I only heard one that did that, and it was a poor imitation.

Bats come in all sizes, from thumbnail-sized peewees to flying foxes with a 6-foot wing span. Ours was no flying fox, thank heaven. They live in tropical and subtropical countries and eat fruit.

We searched high and low to find the little guy during the day, even searching behind pictures and other small crevices, but he had either flown out when Lane opened the door the previous night without his seeing it, or it was a class A hider. 

Our scheme for the following night was to turn on the porch lights to attract a midge hoopla, then open both doors giving Benson an open invitation and freedom to escape. We watched an old Gary Cooper flick in the dark, ever vigilant and listening for our bat. 

Nothing. 

So, we turned off the TV and crept up to the loft to wait in silence for him to come out. We called “olly olly oxen-free” (Not really). Whispering to one another, we waited and hoped, even prayed. We never saw or heard a thing. We removed our hard hats and went to bed.  

Our fervent hope is that Benson silently escaped out the door while we watched Coop race his horse-drawn Quaker buggy with a neighbor’s in “Friendly Persuasion.” 

We did see a bat flying around feasting on midges just outside the deck door. It might have been Benson waving goodbye and thanking us. On the other hand, Lane is the only one who saw him.

Peggy Dover is a sometimes batty freelance writer/author. Reach her at peggydover@gmail.com.