Three solid hours of birding with Dan Haas of Nervous Birds fame and not one dang bird.
Dan helped me do a Nightjar Survey coordinated by the Center of Conservation Biology at the College of William and Mary because Cute Husband is off doing important journalism and because I am afraid of wandering around in dark potentially sketchy places alone.
So, we started at moonrise and stopped 10 times along a route strewn with strip malls and parking lots. Two of the stops had some habitat potential for Chuck-will's widow and Whip-poor-will and various other stops looked good for Common Nighthawk.
We heard nothing.
Not one squeak, tweet, hoot, peet.
For 3 hours.
So, after a disappointing run, we decided to make for the "sure" spots for Chucks, Whips and Owls (it is now 11:30 PM).
We heard nothing.
It was so quiet I remember wishing for a strange mammal to cross our paths just for a little excitement.
So, I drop off Dan and get home at 12:45AM and hop into bed when I hear this tiny squeaking and wings beating all over the LoveNest bedroom.
Hi Mr. Bat.
I tried everything.
I opened windows and doors.
I turned off and on lights.
I tried to speak bat to politely ask him to return to the wild.
It was actually oddly beautiful to watch him fly about and occasionally dive bomb me.
It was also somewhat unnerving.
I decided to find the crab net (which is a typical tool in the house of any Annapolitan) and see if I could help him without injuring him.
When I returned from the garage, there was no sign of him.
Perhaps he decided to roost in between the stones of the fireplace:
Perhaps he was resting behind a curtain:
Could he be hanging out behind this cute picture of Cute Husband?
Can someone please explain to me why this crazy stuff happens only when manly Cute Husband is away?