Die Fledermaus

It was only the second warm evening of the year and a Friday no less, so I came home at 5. Iris, having also noticed the weather, was up at Warnemunde, strolling the beach line of the still frigid Baltic with a couple friends, so I decided to go for a walk myself. The riverfront in town, which as been transformed from port to shops and restaurants, had been surrendered all winter to the ice and wind. The brick walkways and cement steps along the riverfront were still strewn with New Year's Eve firecrackers and beer bottles. The ice that had covered the Unterwarnow was gone, and the only remaining snow was nubbins of the huge piles the city had dumped in a parking lot. I strolled along the waterfront, enjoying the presence of other people in a place that for six months had been abandoned, and watching the grebes bring up small wriggling bits of silver from the river. The Institute is on the waterfront and I came to it as the sun went down. I thought about going inside to see if any colleagues wanted to stroll with me, but decided instead to wander through the unoccupied lot next door. That whole section had been a major port and while much of it has been built over, much, including the peace next to the Institute has gone to grass and the occasional tree. A two-story heap of dirt and rocks, dug up to make space for some building's foundation, is all that distinguishes the lot from a small unmaintained park. As I gazed up at this heap in the fading light, something fluttered over and around it. The silhouette of a tiny bat flitted and floated, gliding and diving after nothing I could see. I tried and failed to detect any insects it could be after. yet it repeatedly visited the same spots, just under those exposed tree roots, just over the top of the dirt pile, just past that lighted window of the Institute. closing my eyes and concentrating, I could just barely hear its wings and a rapid ticking at the upper end of audibility, the lowest notes in its echolocation. I could hear no insects flying, calling or crawling. Watching the lightest part of the sky, I spotted a single midge flying a few feet from my head. Moments later it had disappeared into the hunting bat. This qualified me to be added to its circuit; on each subsequent round of the lot, it would make a small circle around me, perhaps a meter way, checking what other insects I may have attracted. I watched it past when I could see anything, and will return on subsequent dusks.