Haven't reported in as have been really busy with work and applications and some scriptwriting - my oscar hopeful alter ego has come into some good ideas for short movies and I've been trying to write them up. See you in LA, I think not.
So I went running one night, and it was wet, and windy, like the rest of this whole darn summer, and I saw nothing apart from the impact craters of raindrops in puddles and ponds. Everything alive apart from this fool was being sensible and staying out of the weather.
So, I've been off shift, working for 12 hours with no natural daylight and going to bed early. It's not a Chris Packham kind of life. But, with thick twilight at about ten pm, suddenly I'm seeing things I haven't seen really so far this year. And that would be bats.
Although I'm sure you would have already guessed that from the feeble pun in the title of this article.
But, yep, bats, flapping by you like sinister swallows of the night, hunting for moths. A couple of small bats were swooping around each other by the library the other evening, probably Pipistrelles. And then last night in my so called garden, what I reckon was a slightly larger furry flyer that seemed to come from under my eaves. Rather than that than the plague of wasps I had a couple of years ago.
I've always been very partial to bats, remember a long time ago sitting out in the garden with a very young sister watching the bats replace the swifts as a summer evening drew to a close, and telling her about vampires and vampire bats.
No sweeter elder brother there ever was.