An international crowd gathered, some in flip flops, others in saris, others looking quite the Americans with lawn chairs. . . .All were there for a reason—to watch bats emerge from two bat houses that stand across from Lake Alice on the University of Florida campus.
Accounts on internet sites estimated that more than 100,000 bats would emerge around sunset, streaming out, ribbon like, from the bat houses. The crowd began to gather early, about 20 minutes before sunset, the time when the bats were to appear. It was cloudy, slightly cooler. Maybe the bats would emerge ahead of schedule.
Some people leaned on fences. Others sat on benches. Twenty, then 30 minutes passed, and still no bats. As the moment approached--official sunset was at 7:11 p.m.--we became slightly restless, just like in a theatre when we await the KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK that signals the beginning of a performance.
Cars paused to allow pedestrians to cross—kids and parents, babies in strollers, a lady with her foot in a cast. Sunset had long since passed, and it had become chilly. Where were the bats!
Given descriptions of the bat phenomenon told of a wide, black, fluttering wave, any motion caught out attention in the growing darkness. Did I see a wayward bat or dragon flies, small birds. . . .I looked for any sign.
When the bats finally made their appearance, we almost missed them. No streams of bats appeared against a slightly lighter sky, but instead only a slight flutter of leaf-like wings appeared when their rose toward the sky. Our poised cameras did not pick up bat images but only the silhouette of spectators in rapt attention.
Maybe the bats need the three knocks to signal the start of the performance earlier.
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