Skimmer

The cool early spring night was nearly over. The moon had set almost two hours before, and the dark had settled in the velvety corners of a quiet suburban street. The loudest sound was the gentle burbling of the swimming pool pump, which had been started up just a few days before. The water was mostly still on its surface, with small clumps of sodden leaves gently eddying in the darkness from the current below.

The bat continued hunting, as she had been from the first full dark. She was catching mostly mosquitoes, which were plentiful over the water after their first hatch. There were a few beetles, which crunched when she bit down on them, and the odd early spider. Her wings flapped in near silence as she emitted a series of buzzing chirps, twisting in the air and quickly snapping up another mosquito.

She was starting to tire, and the instinct to return to her hungry pup was building. It had been a long and productive night, and the pup would be ready to nurse. He was only twelve days old, but was starting to show signs of being ready to wean. He was a strong pup and would probably be ready to fly in a week or so, depending on how well she could feed him.

As she wheeled and prepared to swoop low over the open water once more, she became aware of a strange echo near the surface. She could hear a good number of insects congregating around an opening, which seemed almost cave-like. It compelled her in some strange way. She ignored it once more as she caught yet another mosquito. Turning back, she felt again the tug to return to her roost. But the draw of the cave overcame the urge, and she headed back to explore it. She tucked her wings back by her sides and dropped in just above the surface of the water.

Immediately it was clear that this had been a mistake. The cave was not as big as it had sounded from outside, barely more than a wingspan wide. What seemed to be the echoing of open space was in fact the swirling sound of a whirlpool. Insects struggled against the current as the bat tried to turn and fly out. Disoriented by the noise and tight quarters, she misjudged and hit the wall, falling into the water.

With a gasp, she broke through the surface of the water. It was bitterly cold, and the delicate hairs inside her ears were ringing. She squeaked in distress, and could only faintly hear the returning sound. She paddled furiously with her wings and hind feet and was able to pull partly out of the water by grasping a narrow ledge.

The suction of the whirlpool was not particularly strong, but constantly tugged at her feet. She tried to adjust her grip and tumbled backwards into the water again. Her normally fuzzy brown fur was plastered down all over her body as she swirled around. For a moment she lost her sense of direction and flailed helplessly below the surface. Finally, her snout broke through and she was able to right herself. Again, she was able to climb part way out of the water and find the ledge. She buzzed for the opening of the cave, but could not hear its echo. From above, it sounded like there might be more space, so she started to feel out with her wing claws and was able to pull herself nearly clear of the water.

Clinging to the edge, surrounded by the deep darkness in which she usually felt most at home, the bat felt the overwhelming urge to fight or flee. She needed to get out, get back to her pup. The need was burning bright within her.

This time she was able to extend her wings and get airborne. Her centre of balance was off because of the extra weight of water, and she nearly corkscrewed before righting herself. A few wing beats was all she managed, but it was enough to turn around and probe the space. She felt the cool night air more than she could hear or see the opening, and darted toward it. It was narrower than expected, and the crest of her head hit the top. She fell a couple inches into the stronger stream that was coming in over the lip of the opening, and was pushed down into the swirling water again, deeper this time. Leaves and small twigs tangled around her feet, and she kicked back to the surface.

Grasping the small ledge once more, the bat paused to rest. She started to shiver in the predawn chill, soaked as she was. Twice more she attempted to escape, and on the last attempt was barely able to climb back out of the water. Exhaustion was setting in, but she could not even sleep in the awkward head-up position that was keeping her alive.

Minutes passed, and the sky outside started to lighten. Eventually, the sun crept above the trees and fence that skirted the yard. Still the bat clung desperately to the inside of the cave, above the vortex that threatened to doom her to drowning and her pup to starvation. Her delicate ears heard another sound over the sucking water - a distant thumping that became slowly louder.

Suddenly, the top of the cave lurched open, and morning sunlight streamed in. The bat closed her sensitive eyes against the brightness. A shadow loomed.

“Ah, what’s this? Hey, hon! It looks like another bat got in the goddamn skimmer,” said a voice from above. “Just a sec, let me get --” the voice cut off as the lid was dropped back into place. The sound of footsteps receded, then returned. The lid was reopened. The shadow reached down, and gently grasped the bat with a gloved hand. She cried out with a hissing sound of fear.

“Hold on there little fella,” said the man. “Let’s get you out of here, you poor bugger.” He placed the bat on the patio stones and replaced the lid. “Easy now, you need to get dried off.” He stepped back.

The bat lay still for a few moments, then tried to spread her wings. One was stuck under her body. Pushing with her back feet, she tried to crawl. The man crouched down in front of her.

“Here let me . . .” he said, and reached down to unfold the stuck wing. She hissed at his approach and touch. “All right, no need for that kind of language,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s just lucky for you I came out this early.”

To her, all the noises he was making were loud and bewildering. She had never been this close to a human. Her flight instinct was in high gear, but she could not yet force herself to move. Finally, he stepped back again.

She could feel the full force of the sun, which normally would have sent her deep into her roost to wait for nightfall. This time though, the glaring light and burning heat felt good, and she rested in spite of it with her wings extended. A few minutes passed, then a few more.

Finally, her fur and wings were mostly dry and she was ready to move. She crawled a few inches on all fours, then gathered herself to attempt to fly. Eyes closed tight against the dazzling brightness, she sounded the fence in front of her and swooped over it, back to her hollow tree roost and her waiting pup. His hungry squeaking drew her home, and she gathered him under her wing so he could nurse. By nightfall she would hunt again.