Cats and Bats?

8/28/00
Several years ago, I lived on a 3rd floor apartment in Maryland with a huge balcony. The cats loved to sit outside on the balcony and watch the birds during the day. To the side was a vent for the roof overhead. Each night about 30 bats would lite out the vent to fly about the complex and catch bugs. Mahpee, Sheba and I would make sure we were on the balcony each night by 7PM to watch the mass exodus. It was a joy to watch them fly about and I think the cats understood these animals as something other than prey. Although they were incredible mousers and caught plenty of rats and mice in the previous apartments, they had already befriended a squirrel who had first taunted them. They just sat with fascination as they watched the spectacle of 30 bats going out to dinner each night. I often left the screen door open during the summer months so that the cats could enjoy the balcony at their leisure. Also, I wouldn't be woken periodically throughout the night to let them out.

One night, I was awoken by the feeling of something on my chest. I thought at first it was one of the cats; usually Mahpee. As I looked down with only the moonlight illuminating the room, I saw a black mass slowly working its way to my throat. It's movement was clumsy, but I could feel small claws digging into my chest. I quickly reached to my side to turn on the light, only to find a bat working its way up my chest and to my adams apple. At my feet, sat Mahpee, fascinated by each moment as I struggled to get my mind clear. Gently, I reached down and picked up the bat, controlling my revolsion caused by several decades of vampire films. The bat screached in fear, but it became quickly obvious it was sick. Mahpee was bringing it to me as a gift and to show me how proud he was of his hunting prowess. But I believe he didn't want to hurt it.

I reasoned that it was probably sick from eating bugs covered in pesticide. The neighborhood had its annual mosquito irradication sprays performed that week. I force fed the bat water for several days and when it appeared strong enough, I returned it too its lair. He was easy to recognize from the single hole in his wing from where Mahpee had gripped him. The next time the bats were ready to take off for the evening, we spotted him coming outside the lair. I reached my hand up for him to smell me. The other bats retreated, but our friend came down to smell my finger and then flew off for the evening. Sometimes, I wonder if Mahpee was proud of the bats recovery. He seemed to be even more interested in their antics, but never tried to capture them. In fact, when he came upon the carcass of a dead bat infant, all he did was touch it with his paw and meow for me to come outside. His connection with nature was not always cut and dry.

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