“I’m Just a Bat: A Letter to Humans”

Hello… I’m just a bat.

You may not have noticed me before, but I’ve been here, fluttering quietly through the night skies, seeking insects, pollinating flowers, and trying to find safe places to rest. I’m not a monster, not a villain from folklore, not a threat to your home or your safety. I’m just a tiny creature doing my part in this world, trying to survive in an increasingly difficult environment.

I Don’t Drink Blood

Let me get this straight — I don’t drink blood. That’s a myth, a story that got a little too popular for its own good. Out of over 1,400 species of bats in the world, only three feed on blood — and even those don’t hurt people. The rest of us? We eat fruit, insects, nectar, pollen, and sometimes even fish or small animals. Personally, I love mosquitoes — the more, the better. If you’ve ever enjoyed a peaceful night without buzzing bugs biting you, there’s a good chance you had a bat like me around.

So no, I’m not waiting for the night to fall so I can swoop into your room and feast on you. I don’t want to hurt you. In fact, I’m more scared of you than you are of me.

I’m Not Trying to Get Stuck in Your Hair

Another myth? That I’m out here trying to tangle myself in your hair. That’s simply not true. I use echolocation — a natural sonar system — to fly with incredible accuracy, even in total darkness. I can detect objects as fine as a strand of hair and avoid them easily. If I ever come close to you or seem to fly erratically, it’s because I’m panicking. Loud noises, bright lights, or enclosed spaces confuse me. I don’t want to be near you — I’m just trying to escape.

If I end up flying into your home, please understand: it was a mistake. I didn’t mean to enter your space. I don’t want to be in your kitchen or your bedroom. I’m scared, disoriented, and desperate to get out. It’s like if you accidentally walked into a maze, with walls closing in and strange creatures yelling and swinging objects at you. That’s what it feels like for me.

Please Don’t Hurt Me

When I’m inside your home, please — don’t panic. Don’t chase me with brooms or scream or try to hit me. I’m not attacking you. I’m not flying at you on purpose. I’m just scared, and the more you move and shout, the harder it is for me to find my way out.

Hitting me hurts — sometimes fatally. I’m small and fragile. My bones are light and thin so I can fly, but that also means I can break easily. A broom or a towel swung in fear can break my wings, damage my body, or kill me outright. And for what? For being confused and lost?

If I Land, I May Need Help

Sometimes, I get so exhausted or frightened that I land somewhere inside your house. When that happens, I might not be able to take off again without help. Bats can’t always lift off from flat surfaces — we need a bit of height or grip to launch. If you see me resting, please don’t be afraid. I’m not plotting anything — I’m just catching my breath, trying to calm down.

If you’re willing, you can help me. Just gently cover me with a small towel or cloth, being careful not to squeeze or harm me. Then, take me outside — somewhere quiet and dark — and let me go. I’ll fly off into the night, back to where I belong. I promise.

I’m Actually Helpful

You might not realize it, but I do a lot of good for you and the world around us.

I eat insects — lots of them. A single bat can eat hundreds or even thousands of mosquitoes in one night. That’s a natural, chemical-free pest control service I provide. No sprays, no poisons, just a quick, quiet meal that helps keep disease-carrying bugs in check.

Some of my cousins pollinate plants. Without them, certain fruits — like bananas, mangoes, and agaves (used to make tequila!) — wouldn’t grow as easily. Other bats help spread seeds, helping forests regrow. We’re part of a delicate balance in nature. We give far more than we take.

But Our Homes Are Disappearing

As cities grow and forests shrink, our homes — the caves, trees, and crevices we once used — are vanishing. The places we used to shelter in, to rest during the day or raise our young, are being replaced by buildings and roads.

Sometimes, we’re forced to seek refuge in attics, sheds, or barns — not because we want to invade your space, but because we have nowhere else to go. We’re just trying to survive. Just like you, we want warmth, safety, and a place to rest.

And when we lose our homes, our populations decline. Many species of bats are already endangered. Pollution, pesticides, and habitat loss have taken a heavy toll. Every encounter we have with humans can be life-threatening — not because of our actions, but because of fear and misunderstanding.

What to Do If I Fly Inside

If I ever accidentally end up inside your home, please remember this:

• Turn off indoor lights: Bright lights confuse me and make it harder to find my way.

• Turn on an outside light: This helps me spot the exit more clearly.

• Open windows or doors: Create a path for me to escape. I’ll find it.

• Stay calm: Avoid fast movements, loud noises, or aggressive behavior.

Give me a chance, and I’ll leave on my own. I don’t want to stay. I don’t want to cause trouble. I just want to be free.

Be Kind. I Want to Live Too.

I know bats have been misunderstood for centuries. From old legends to horror movies, we’ve often been cast as symbols of fear and darkness. But the truth is, we’re gentle, helpful, and essential parts of the ecosystem.

We don’t want to hurt you. We don’t spread evil or cast curses. We don’t bring bad luck. All we ask is a little compassion. A little space. A little understanding.

We want to live, just like you do.

So if you see me fluttering by at dusk, think of me not as something to be feared, but as a quiet guardian of the night — keeping bugs at bay, helping plants thrive, and asking only for a chance to exist.

Let’s share this world — the night skies, the forests, the quiet corners — in peace.

Thank you for listening.

With gentle wings and humble hopes,
A bat.