Some of the squeamish in my family emitted eagle-like screeches at the mere mention of bats so we began calling them night birds
. Some of the best island camp stories were of the night bird encounters experienced on the island. In the loft at bedtime (mind you there were no electric lights) trying to find the pesky thing with a flashlight in order to swat with the broom. Or inside the peak of the outhouse, tell me that didn't speed matters up a bit. Catch one in long hair? And of course the eave next to the slamming porch door? SLAM flutter flutter swoosh.
I wish I could hear the bats' stories of the people they scared. I could picture Belfry the bat talking about his adventures with Oh_my the human dummy.