I used to work as a bat trainer as an undergraduate, during a misguided attempt to become Jane Goodall. The bulk of this work took place in a large, sound-absorbent room (=covered in ungainly dark grey egg crate foam), down in a deep, concrete basement, which was so quiet that you began to hear your own heart beat after five or ten minutes. Or three or four hours, whichever came first; somehow, being alone in absolute silence has a funny way of bending your sense of time, making you feel as though your actions are somehow suspended above the world, drifting cloudlike above the sea.
In any case, my job was to train these little brown bats (caught in nets on evening raids of nearby fields, by other members of "the Bat Lab", as we were called) to fly off my hand in then around the room to follow a specific path past high-speed cameras, and catch a meal worm whom I had recently threaded upon a hanging string. Of course, even having the bat in your hand probably sounds like the most insane thing going, much less getting it to perform tricks. But most little brown bats (who were truly little, just about 3 very furry inches long) actually are quite friendly, if you get to know them. As with any critter, close contact with humans is at first quite upsetting, but a slow introduction and trust-building period results in a wonderfully fuzzy friend.
And they're cute, damn you, I don't care what you say! They're just like an oversized Tootsie Roll, but covered in the softest of chestnut-brown fur; they have sweet little ears and funny squished faces, and dark eyes that most often are blinking sleepily. And sleep they do! In the wild, bats catch their food for the day in all of 15 minutes, and the rest of the time, they just hang about, socialize a bit, and sleep. They have interesting relationships with one another, too; put a bunch of bats in one place, and in five minutes they're one big pile of warm fur, all cuddled up and asleep. Then somebody's got to roll over, and she steps on someone's ear, and there's a loud screech-fight for a few seconds, and then they're yawning and dropping off again.
They like having their little heads rubbed, right between their ears, although this, like most things, puts them to sleep. They get to know individual people (and develop likes or dislikes for them), and they need to come to trust you to like you and work with you, just like anybody else. When they like you, though, they sure do like you. Mine were named Betsy and Fernando, and when they were taking turns flying, whoever was off work would come and velcro itself onto my shirt, or crawl right into my vest pocket!
Happiness is a great big hug,
Even when you're covered in slime.At the end of a long, hot, steamy day at an art festival, everyone was tiredly packing up their beautiful art, squirreling it away in the recesses of vans and trunks and trailers, all those pieces still waiting for someone to fall in love with. Tom from Across the Way, a super Sweet Pea who was full of laughter all through the weekend, came over to say good-bye. I extended my hand for a shake, and ended up getting a wonderful hug! Hooray! I had an instant, of "Oh god, I'm so SLIMEY," and then it hit me: There are some people who have a kindness in them that just doesn't care. : )
This phenomenon was independently reported by two members of the same household. Each had individually attempted to remedy the situation by removing their own pants as the likely culprit.