I've always privately thought of our little cottage in Michigan as "Bedlam Manor". I'm now re-thinking that. "Animal House" is seeming ever more apropos.Squirrels in the attic earlier this summer launched a tiny war. Gus, our communal goose was, shall we say, taken (kidnapped? Goosenaped?) by some neighbors. The deer have had a salad bar of my Hostas (sob!) and, seemingly, we have now entered the bat cave...
To say I was startled one recent evening on the porch by a lone bat would be a HUGE understatement. Freaked. Frightened. Terrified. Yes, words like that paint the picture. How do you know if you've had a cardiac infarction??? I was able to show him to the door eventually, and a peaceful evening resumed: No nerves a cocktail (or 10) can't cure... Everyone else seemed to find this rather funny, but I fail to see the humor.
Whilst preparing to depart the next day, a glance skyward reveled the following:
A GIANT BAT KITE was snared in our tree. Coincidence? I think not. There are a great number of charming and colorful kite patterns of which to choose, yet the one ensnared in our tree is a large, black bat kite. Clearly this is some kind of bat revenge or warning. So, for now, I've grown weary of the natural world; perhaps a restorative trip to the big city is in order. The concrete jungle. Wildlife at a minimum. Angry taxi-cab drivers flashing birds of a different sort. Yes indeed-I think it's exactly what I need.
