I got up, and was seeking a match to light my candle, when the little creature came against me, and I caught it with both hands spread over it.
I felt directly that it was not a bird; there is something so peculiarly soft and strange in the feel of a bat; and I was nearly throwing it down with a sort of disgust.
Second thoughts, which are generally best, came in time to prevent my hurting the poor little creature; and I lighted the candle, and took a good look at my prize.
It was about the size of a small mouse; it kept its wings closely folded, and I placed it in a drawer, and shut it up till morning, when I and my sister had a long inspection of my prize.
I do not know of what variety it was; for there are, I believe, a great many different kinds. He had not long ears; his eyes were very small indeed, though bright.
We had never handled a bat before, and were not soon weary of examining his curious blackish wings; the little hooks, where his fore-feet, apparently, should have been; his strangely-deformed hind feet; and his mouse-like body and fur.
We wrapped him up and shut him in a basket, and during the day, I caught a handful of flies, of all sizes, and put them into the basket.
When it grew dusk, we opened the basket, and he soon came out and fluttered about the room for a time; we found that he had eaten all the flies, but not the wings of the larger ones.
When he had been at liberty for some time, we easily caught him again, and shut him up; and when he became a little more used to me, I left him out all night, being careful to close the opening into the chimney; and he used to have the range of mine and the adjoining room during the night.
We tried him with a variety of food. I had fancied that bats ate leaves and fruit; but he never touched anything of that kind. He would eat meat, preferring raw to cooked; and would drink milk, sucking it up, more than lapping.