Twilight

Although I've neither seen nor read the popular series of vampire movies and books in vogue right now, I can understand why they are named "Twilight."  Coming back from the barn by the last light of the sun, I am enthralled by the evening arrival of the bats.  There seems to be a larger number this year, and they are so welcome as they dine on mosquitoes, gnats, and other pesky insects.  I stand fascinated, watching the tiny creatures, smaller than a sparrow, as they flit and swoop in silhouette against the fading rays.  Bats have a different wing beat than anything else I know, more flutter than stroke.  If I stand very still, they might dip very close, but move too fast for me to get more than a glimpse of their mouse-like body.  As with so many of the wild things, I wish I could hold one for just a minute.

Bram Stoker didn't do much for the bats' popularity, the sight of a bat now striking fear in many.  No matter how many times I've read "Dracula," I can still scare myself silly by reading that book on a dark and stormy night, sitting alone with just the one lamp lit.  Written in 1897, it is still a powerful novel.

I once read some statistics on how long it would be before insects inundated the world if the bug-eaters were eliminated, and it wasn't long.  Bats truly help keep the world in balance...at twilight.