Settling down one evening last week we played unwitting hosts to a visitor. A bat had flown in from the garden via the half opened french doors. Our living room is a former hay barn so it had more range than it could have expected in confined quarters. with all other exits barred it took a sudden dive into my neighbouring study (where I sit making these notes tonight) and promptly disappeared without trace. Having sealed the room off that night some time was taken up the next day with me, ably helped by a visiting friend, on step ladders carefully clearing then replacing a great number of books, box files and papers in a vain search for the elusive flying mammal. The only refuge I think it must have found was a run of narrow gaps between exposed stone wall and fitted cupboards. A joiner friend had fitted the cupboard and shelf units two years since, skillfully using his fret saw to accommodate the rough uneven interface between stone and wood. Just enough room, I suspect, for a fold up furry beastie to hang out in safely. Two nights later it appeared out of nowhere and a rather farcical fandango of humans and aerial evacuee took place in living room and then kitchen. With the french doors now fully open it finally swooped low and out into the big wide darkness from whence it had come. Hurray! We’re used to bats regularly flying around the house at nightfall but never, until now, inside it. Almost certainly it’s either a Common or a Soprano Pipistrelle, the most widespread and numerous of the UK’s 17 breeding bat species. Weighing an average 5oz, with 8″ wingspan its aerial hawking of flies, mosquitoes, midges etc can amount to a catch of up to 3,000 insects per animal on a summer’s night! They are almost certainly roosting permanently somewhere on our property; behind soffits, tiles, bargeboards, roofing felt etc. We’re happy to have them in our happy acre but preferably out, not in!