Why Bats Fly at Night

Why Bats Fly at Night

Long ago, according to an old Filipino tale, the world was still learning how to be a world, and Day and Night could not quite agree on how to divide the sky. Day said, “I need more time. I light the trees, rivers, roads, and fields.” Night replied, “I need time too. Without darkness, no one would see the stars, hear the quiet nighttime sounds, or rest.” The sun rose brightly, the moon came gently, and between them lay a short golden hour called evening. Near a river, beneath soft green moss, lived a tiny creature. It was so small that in daylight it could easily be mistaken for a dry leaf. It already had thin little wings, but it had not yet discovered when to use them. One morning the creature crawled from beneath the moss. “Today I will fly far away!” It spread its wings, pushed off from a stone, and rose into the air. At once, a beam of sunlight struck directly into its eyes. “Ow!” The little creature squeezed its eyes shut, wobbled, and nearly flew into the reeds. “Careful,” whispered the reeds. “Your eyes do not seem to enjoy such bright light.” “I will get used to it,” the creature insisted. It tried again. Higher this time. It squinted. Turned left instead of right. And nearly landed on the back of a sleepy turtle. “Hey!” Turtle protested. “I may be slow, but I am not a landing platform.” “Sorry,” squeaked the little creature, retreating beneath the moss. All day it sat in cool shade and wondered. “Everyone else flies, runs, or jumps in the sun. Why can't I?” A lizard darted past. “Maybe you are simply choosing the wrong time,” she suggested. “Does everyone have a time that suits them?” “Of course. Flowers know when to open. Birds know when to sing. Even the river knows when to be quiet and when to roar after rain.” The creature peered outside. The sun was still high. “Then I will wait.” The day passed. A cool breeze traveled along the river. The sky turned pink, then violet. The sun touched the horizon, and the light stopped dazzling the creature's eyes. It crawled carefully from beneath the moss. “Now?” it asked the river. “Try,” murmured the water. The creature spread its wings. One beat, and it rose above the grass. Two, and it crossed a bush. Three, and it was circling over the river. This time its eyes did not hurt. In the soft evening light, everything seemed wonderfully clear: dark outlines of trees, the silver ribbon of water, tiny insects above the surface, even the first star. “I am flying!” the creature squeaked joyfully. “I really am flying!” It looped and turned, rising and dipping until the wind sang past its ears. When full darkness came, the moon rose. “Good evening, little traveler,” said the moon. “Good evening! I think I have found my time.” “And what time is that?” “The time when the sun no longer blinds me and the world has not yet fallen asleep.” “Twilight and night,” said the moon. “Twilight and night,” repeated the creature. “I like the sound of that.” From then on, the little flier rested by day in cool, dark places: hollows, beneath leaves, between rocks. When evening cooled the air, it woke and flew. In time it had a large family. The little winged children asked, “Why don't we fly with the daytime birds?” “Because the world is wide,” their elder answered. “There is room for those who love morning, those who love noon, and those who feel best beneath the stars.” “And who are we?” “We are bats.” One youngster always added, “Night bats!” “In this story, all our bats are night bats,” the mother would laugh. Other animals grew used to seeing them. The turtle on whom the first bat had almost landed would joke, “I see you finally learned the difference between a river and my back.” “I see the road much better at night,” Bat replied. “Then fly as much as you like. Just quietly above my sleeping place.” That is how the old tale explained why bats rest during the day and become active after dark. And if a dark wing suddenly flashes overhead in a garden or beside a river at dusk, one might remember the little creature in the story. It did not force itself to live exactly as everyone else did. It simply found the time when its wings worked best.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨