For the last fortnight I haven't been able to go to bed without having to shoo one or more bats out through the window. Big and brave, me, when confronted with bats outdoors, even as they swoop at head height and at top speed as they leave the roost under the eaves.
Somehow, as you remove a shoe and hop about on one leg and start to wrestle your head out of the day's t-shirt, bats whirring past your nut is not quite as appealing.
The other day three of the toothed and winged beasties circled gaily over the bed, dropping neat pellets of batshit as they went. Lovely.
Yesterday, this long eared bat was found dead. If you can tell me whether that's a grey or a brown long eared bat, I'd be most grateful. It looks like a grey-brown bat to me.