You are sitting in the middle of the amphitheater, surprisingly comfortable on the rock benches. There is a small crowd of people near the front, and a slightly larger crowd in the back. Mandy the park ranger is standing at the front, teaching her audience about bats. She is very bubbly, and loves the words "awesome" and "amazing." Everything about bats is awesome and amazing. When she talks about them though, you too believe that everything about them is awesome and amazing.
The sky has reached that perfect point, the pink and orange of the setting sun quickly being overtaken by the dark blue of night. Anticipation is high. Surely the bats have to appear soon!
Mandy's speech is interrupted by a quick chirp from the bat detector. Movement is happening near the opening of the cavern. She warns everyone that it could still be a few minutes. Two more chirps happen in the next thirty seconds, before the detector is crackling constantly. Clearly, the bats are close. Mandy puts down her microphone, turns off the detector, and steps away from the front of the amphitheater. As soon as she does, the first bats fly out.
They circle counterclockwise seven times in front of the cavern, quickly gaining altitude. From your seat, you can see the top of the swirling tornado of bats, while also having an excellent view of the sky. Which is quickly filled with Mexican free tail bats as they fly up and to the right, heading to the local water sources in that direction. They move faster than you expected, their wings flapping constantly. Listening closely, hands cupped behind your ears, you can just barely hear the flutter.
When you look at the group of them, you can't see individual bats. Instead, it looks like a tv screen full of static; the sky is a mass of vibrations. You can't stare too long, it hurts your eyes.
Individual bats swoop to the left, or directly overhead, but always turn towards the general direction of the group. Maybe they were disoriented. Perhaps they were after a moth that way. Or they could have been just checking out the scene for predators. You don't know what a bat thinks, so you can only make guesses.
You try to watch an individual bat, from when you first see it to when it has flown out of sight. But, they fly quickly, and turn abruptly, and easily get lost in the group.
The stream of bats pouring out of the cavern slows after only a minute, and you're disappointed. Mandy had warned you that only two summers ago there were only about 20 bats living in Carlsbad Cavern, due to a drought. As it is early in the season, the park isn't sure how many bats will be living in the cavern. All of the bats have flown away, and the crowd stirs in their seat.
But then, all of a sudden, there is another tornado happening below. More bats have come out for their supper. This pattern continues; a stream of bats slows down, there's a pause, and then another comes out. It keeps you slightly anxious in your seat, thinking "Is this it? Is this the last of them? Or are there more? I hope there are more!"
The sky continues to darken; the dark blue has completely overtaken the warmer colors. You can no longer see the circling bats in front of the cavern, but once they fly above your head, their small dark bodies are still in contrast with the evening sky.
Audience members are starting to move. A child toots, many of the crowd laugh. You don't. People start to get up from their seats and head up the aisle. Those you make eye contact with give you an apologetic look, as if they were leaving a bat party you had invited them to early. One man even nods at his wife, as if it is her fault they had to leave. Older people look so light and fragile, but they do not know how to walk quietly up stone steps.
The crowd thins, the sky darkens, the bats keep flying. You sit and watch this majestic sight, leaning back against the rock seat wall behind you. Thousands of bats have flown out of the cave by now, and you wonder how many more are to come.
Your stomach growls. Loudly. The couple a few rows in front of you turn and look. You stand up quietly; your beat up orange tennis shoes hardly make a sound. After climbing to the top of the amphitheater, you take one last look at the river of bats still pouring out of the cavern. It is time for you to leave though.
Like the bats, you are hungry, and it is time to eat.