Foggy Night

Last night Offspring #2 and I went with a group of about a dozen people to the Maplewood Nature Center for a program on bats.  We watched a presentation about bats for a half hour before proceeding out into the dark and foggy night.  I learned that I should move my bat house.  I've had a bat house for 7 years and never got any bats.  Bats who roost in trees don't use a bat house.  If I moved my bat house to a pole or the side of the house I would have more luck attracting bats.  We walked around a big pond in the nature center. Most of the path was dirt but luckily had few tripping hazards.  The rest of the walk was floating boardwalk and some of it was smeared with goose droppings.  We had an echo-locator which looks like an old fashioned transistor radio with a cone shaped antennae.  Our instructor set the echo-locator for 20 kHz.  We stood in the dark woods right next to the pond and listened.  All twelve of us are silent and listening.  We hear a chirp once, twice, three times.  We look up and all we see is fog but there is a hoary bat up there somewhere making laps over the pond and gathering dinner.  She turns it up to 30 kHz and 40 kHz but we don't hear any more.  We walk on into the fog.   The fog makes the night spooky and dangerous and exhilarating.  We're on a mission. We're united in the same goal.  We're like a military unit.  Maybe we're spies.  Bat spies.  I brought bug spray but didn't put any on because the mosquitoes aren't bad tonight.  The guy in our group poured bug spray on himself and he is throwing out a huge stink that protects us all.  Ugh.  We come to another opening in the woods next to the pond.  We listen at all 3 settings on the echo-locator.  We hear a chirp at 40 kHz.  A red bat!  We hear tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick.  Little brown bats are flying circles above us.  We look all around and can't see much beyond the foggy outline of the trees, the lake and the occasional firefly.  We proceed to walk onto the board walk and I suddenly get a childish urge to press the button on my keychain attachment that is shaped like a pig.  I mentally scold myself for being childish but the urge is strong.  I have 12 people here straining to listen in the foggy night.  They are all interested in nature. Some are experts with frogs and toads and birds.  How fun it would be to throw a mechanical pig sound into the mix.  Once I have the thought I can't let it go.  I tell Offspring #2 about my impulse. She advises me not to do it.  We walk forward listening to more bats on the boardwalk.  I can't help myself.  They stand there intently listening. I have an audience of 12 master naturalists.  When will I get this chance again?  I turn around so I don't face the group.  I put my pig in my pocket so the light that comes out of the pig's nose doesn't show and I press the button.  "Oink!"  I hear the leader say, "I don't know what THAT was!"  Is that all the reaction I'm going to get?  I think to myself that this would have been much, much funnier if we didn't have cell phones.  People have become accustomed to hearing all kinds of strange noises now.  Still, I'm smiling in the dark at 10 p.m. as we walk back to the nature center to go home.  What a wonderful evening!  This was the perfect ending to a hectic day.