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MIGHTY
BAT
Copyright 82001 Robert P. Herbst. All rights
reserved.
By
Robert P. Herbst
It
seems such a short time ago when my lovely wife
Lyudmila, called me on the phone. She was all
excited because she had found a little pteachka
outside the home where she cared for an elderly
lady. (Pteachka is Russian for a bird, several
birds would be pteachke) Lyudmila is from
Feodosia, Crimea, Ukraine.
Anyhow,
a few moments later she called me back to tell
me it wasn't a bird at all, but a small bat. For
some reason the poor thing was out in the day
light and apparently unable to fly. Naturally
the only thing to do was to bring it home and
nurse it back to health. Lyudmila placed the
little bat in an empty tissue box where it
promptly crawled up into the darkest corner and
went to sleep. Lyudmila,
not being familiar with bat habits, feared the
poor thing was dying. After dinner Lyudmila and
I had a long discussion on the care and feeding
of an injured bat. Together we decided to give
it milk. Spoon feeding the little thing proved a
bit messy because of its small size, so we tried
dipping a small stick in the milk and letting
the little creature lick the milk from the end
of the stick.
This
worked well for a short period of time until the
little bat decided it could get more of a mouth
full if it sank its teeth into the end of the
stick and held on. Obviously the stick was not
the answer. During this time the little bat
managed to cover itself with milk. The milk
mixed with the bats fur and began to get sticky,
like glue. Lyudmila decided to wash the little
bat. She placed it in the kitchen sink and
carefully washed our house guest with warm
water. After washing it, she carefully dried it
with a towel. Then using an eyebrow brush from
her cosmetic case, she brushed the bat until its
fur was glossy and soft. The bat seemed to sense
what Lyudmila was trying to accomplish and
started licking the spots Lyudmila missed when
she washed it. Next we tried feeding the bat
small bits of frozen chicken. Lyudmila fed this
to the little bat on the end of her finger. This
worked very well
and our guest was soon gobbling up the chicken
at a goodly rate. Unfortunately it was not
paying much attention to where the chicken
stopped and the finger began.
It
was fortunate our little guest didn't have a
full set of teeth or it might have done some
damage to Lyudmila's finger. It did, however,
bite and hang on making, more feeding rather
tricky.
Then
Lyudmila remembered the open can of cat food in
the refrigerator. She got the can out and began
feeding the little bat cat food, with a Fondue
fork. The little bat smacked its lips and
gnashed its teeth as it devoured the cat food.
For its size the little bat seemed to eat an
awful lot of cat food.
At
last, its hunger slaked, the little bat moved of
on the table top toward a dark area near the box
we had kept it in. Lyudmila picked up our new
house guest and placed it back in the corner of
the box it had been sleeping in before.
Somewhere
along the line, I decided to build a bat house
for our guest. I had seen plans for such a thing
in a magazine. Having the necessary wood on hand
to build it, I went ahead with the construction
of our bat house. Having completed the house and
hung it on a pipe out in the alley we tried to
put the little bat into it. The bat had other
ideas.
Then
we decided to put the little bat in a nearby
tree. Lyudmila carefully placed the bat in the
tree and we both wished it well. Later in the
evening the weather report promised rain. We
just couldn't leave the little bat out there
unprotected in inclement weather.
We
brought the little bat back inside and returned
it to the empty tissue box Lyudmila had brought
it home in. In the morning we cleaned the area
under where the bat the bat had slept and fed it
more cat food. The bat seemed stronger and
healthier than the night before. I warned
Lyudmila that the bat was regaining its health
and perhaps it would be a good idea to put
something over the open top of the box to
prevent our little house guest from flying about
inside the flat during the night.
As
a point of interest, I'll take this opportunity
to mention that one must never try to tell a
Russian woman anything. The box remained open.
Naturally in the morning the bat was gone. It
has found a home somewhere in our flat. We have
torn the place apart looking for the little bat
but it was nowhere to be found.
Evening
fell over our household, we sat down at the
dinner table and prepared to eat the evening
meal. We were both saddened because we couldn't
find the little bat. We were worried it had
crawled into some dark corner and died. Or
worse, was caught in there and slowly starved to
death.
We
ate our dinner in silence. Even the cat seemed a
bit reserved but along about the end of our meal
kitty demanded to be fed. Lyudmila put a small
amount of cat food on a little plate and placed
it on the floor in front of the cat.
Suddenly
the bat appeared. It flew down and lit on
kitties back. The cat was so startled it flew
straight up in the air about three feet, then
with every hair on its body standing straight
out and with its back arched, it vanished under
the living room sofa.
The
bat tumbled off the cat before it hit the floor
and was eating the cat food as the cat
disappeared under the sofa. When it had finished
the cat food it flew up to the table top and sat
there licking its chops while looking straight
at Lyudmila. Naturally, Lyudmila began speaking
to the little bat in Russian. The bat looked as
if it understood every word she said. This was
now Lyudmila's very own haroshinki bat. (Haroshinki
= cute, little) It instantly became a part of
our household. I watched all this with moderate
interest. We really didn't need another mouth to
feed or clean up after.
However,
I was not asked if the bat could stay in the
house or not. Like any other good husband I sat
back quietly and watched the bond forming
between the bat and my wife. A little later the
bat flew up from the table top and vanished into
the darkening ceiling. Both Lyudmila and I knew
it was up there somewhere but darned if we could
find it. The evening bat feeding went on each
night and the bat waxed fat and happy while our
long-suffering kitty cat peered out from under
the sofa with saucer sized eyes.
It
gradually became obvious we were going to have
to feed kitty at lunch time when the bat was
asleep. It missed no opportunity to swoop down
and terrify the cat so it could eat the poor
cat's food. Because it could terrify the cat so
completely, we began calling it Mighty Bat.
Now,
one must understand, my lovely wife has few
things that scare her. One of those things is
the common roach. In her hometown of Feodosia,
Crimea, Ukraine, she called them TeriKahn. On
seeing one she throws whatever she has in her
hands straight up as she screams "TeriKahn!"
at the top of her voice.
We
all know that roaches only come out in the dark.
The other night, Lyudmila wanted something from
the kitchen after we had gone to bed. As she
turned on the kitchen light, I heard her shriek
"TeriKahn!" and I instantly knew
exactly what game was afoot.
I
tumbled out of bed and raced to the kitchen,
just in time to see Mighty Bat swoop down from
its perch in the ceiling and snatch up the roach
that was menacing my lovely wife. Now when she
screams "TeriKahn!" I just roll over
and wait until I hear Lyudmila praising her very
own Haroshinki Mighty Bat. I am content that
Mighty Bat has once again saved my lovely wife
from the clutches of the, "Oojas TeriKahn"
and I can go back to sleep. (Oojas = Huge,
Terrible)
--
My Books;
NopoSan; The story of my four year hitch in the
Air Force.
Mount Perry Chronicles 1, 2 & 3; Just plain
fun stuff to read
My E-Mail Order Bride; The story of how I found
my wife and my six month stay in her home in
Feodosia, Crimea, Ukraine.
Tales of Lyudmila; Some of the fun stuff that
can happen in a
cross culture marriage.
Are sold at www.booksurge.com &
www.greatunpublished.com |
