Another night descends on the city, and the bats that inhabit the upper beams of baseball stadiums around the country, awaken to the twinkle of stars and the sounds of pre-game warm-ups. Banners flutter in the evening breeze and the stands slowly fill with fans. Children's laughter can be heard over the hot-dog vendors, as they eagerly await the traditional, "Play ball!" from the home plate umpire.

These young bats enjoy and understood the game as well as their human counterparts. It's not ... surprising ... that this particular group of pups appreciates the game of baseball as they do ... because ... well ... they resemble baseballs, and, I might add, play the game with great skill. The rafters of old ball parks are the only homes they know.

As the story goes, their mothers survived through the worst storm to pass through the area in years. However, something strange happened during that storm, something very strange indeed. Well let me tell you the story, as it was told to me ...

The weatherman had called for thunderstorms, but not until later that night. It seemed the game would be finished before the bad weather arrived, even though threatening dark clouds were gathering over the stadium. Because of the forecast, the umpires decided to turn the lights on early, making the field brighter and safer for the players. Usually the lights came on automatically for night games.

As game time approached, the stadium gradually changed, from a semi-circle of gold, red, blue, and green sections, to a multicolored sea of fans. Some, who had probably heard the weather reports, wore hats and sweaters, in case of a sudden downpour. Others carried umbrellas, while many arrived in their usual summer attire scoffing at the weatherman and the unfriendly sky.

Forty bats had slept in the cavern for the winter, undisturbed by the everyday actions of the humans inhabiting the world above them. The warm quiet roost in which they spent the year, was a "nursery" full of expectant mothers huddled together awaiting the arrival of their young pups. It was nothing more than a long, narrow passage, ending in a hollow the size of a beach ball. The entrance was a hole on the rocky face of a cliff sloping to an oceans sandy shore.

Soon the new born would occupy the same small space, clinging to their mothers for the first few weeks of life. The cool, wet season was over and summer was about to arrive, welcoming the new brown bats. The males had migrated or found more suitable roosts for the winter, only to return in the spring when the pups were independent.

Jockeying for position along the ceiling, the mothers tried to avoid the strange unexpected bursts of light that disturbed their slumber.

Some days they awoke to sounds that vibrated through the rock, the footsteps and voices echoing from the world above them. They would stir sleepily, nuzzle a shoulder or wing, and then fall back into a deep sleep.

Today the roost felt damp and cold. An odd feeling filled the air. The offensive stream of bright flashing light, followed by a clap of thunder, vibrating through their tiny ears, was only the beginning of what was to be a very exciting night!

There was a buzz in the stands, as the fans rallied behind their home town heroes. The score in the second inning was 1—0, in favor of the home team. The chants of hot-dog, popcorn and soft drink vendors could be heard above the crowd, announcing the delights they offered. Boys and girls leaned on railings, waving team pennants while their parents sat, skillfully keeping one eye on the game and the other on their excited children.

As dusk slowly turned to night, the brilliance of the park lights washed a magical blue glow over whatever it touched. The only hints now, of unsettled weather, were the little dust devils still forming in the corners of the diamond. Paper cups and candy wrappers that had blown on to the field went spinning magically, up into the air.