sad, sad bat

I hit a bat on my way home tonight. Actually, the bat flew into my windshield, so it hit me. I watched it hit the top and then slide down to get tangled in my windshield wipers, which seemed impossible at 55 mph (the sliding DOWN part, not the hitting part).

Poor bat. Sad bat. I drove my last 2 miles home watching the unmistakeable bat wing flap in the wind while hoping that it was just knocked out.

At home, the mag flashlight and a straw proved to me that it was dead. I felt sad. I also hope that an animal eats it in the night so that I don't have a rotting bat at the end of my sidewalk in the morning.

I've always loved bats the same way that I love frogs, turtles, lizards, and snakes. Maybe more the way that I love snakes...I like to see them and think they are awesome but don't want to touch them. Bats look like cute little diseased mice with wings. In my mind, that statement turns out positive.

This is not the bat I killed. I don't actually touch bats. This picture does show how cute and small and innocent they look to me.