Bat Changes Sides

In the old time, in the Modoc country of caves and lava flows, there was a war between the Beasts and the Birds, and Bat -- little, black, squeaky Bat -- he was on the Bird's side.

All the animals got together for the first battle. The arrows went whiz-whiz-whiz through the air. And the spears went whoosh-whoosh-whoosh. But Bat wasn't fighting. He wasn't helping out his friends. He was doing what he did best: hanging around, and watching. He stood with his arms crossed, his eyes scanning the battlefield ... Mister Supervisor Bat.

Then his eyes got big. His body started shaking. His bat lips started trembling. He saw that the Birds -- his side -- were going to lose that battle. He was shaking so much with fear that he almost shook himself apart.

Bat ran and hid in a hollow log and bumped around inside, shaking and shaking, until that first battle was over.

The Birds lost. They went walking off, their beaks drooping, dragging their tail feathers in the dirt.

Then came the Beasts, the winners. They were feeling great. They'd won the battle. They were marching along, heads high in the air, marching along in single file: Hup hup hup hup hup!

Bat, thinking he might be better off with the Beasts, came out of the log. He got in line and started marching along with them. But Bat wasn't a great marcher. His arms and legs flailed out every direction, and his voice, high and squeaky, wasn't exactly a military voice: Hoop hoop hoop hoop hoop!

Bear was in front of Bat in the line and he heard that strange squeaking behind him. He turned and saw Bat there, and he said, "Hey ding-Bat! What are you doing here? Didn't I see you fighting against us -- if you could call what you were doing fighting -- aren't you our enemy?"

Bat started walking around in circles, his hands crossed behind his back. He was squeaking softly to himself, thinking things out. Then he said, "Who me? Certainly you're not talking about me. Why back home, they call me Mister Loyalty. Besides, look here. See these teeth? I've got a double row of teeth. None of those Birds have a double row of teeth. But I've got a double row of teeth. I'm just like you, just like you, just like you...."

What could Bear say? Bat did have a point. Bear just frowned and let Bat stay with them.

* * * * *

Five days later, after everyone had plenty of time to gather up their dead friends and bring them back to life, there was another battle. The arrows went flying whiz-whiz-whiz. And the spears went whoosh-whoosh-whoosh. And Bat was there with the Beasts. But again he wasn't helping out. Bat was doing what he did best: hanging around, and watching. But again, his eyes got big. His body started shaking. He was so frightened, he nearly shook his eyeballs out of their sockets. He saw that his side -- those big, furry, grumbly Beasts -- they were going to lose the battle.

Bat scampered back into his hollow log and waited for the battle to be over.

Sure enough, the Beasts lost. They went walking off, their snouts drooping, dragging their furry tails in the dirt.

Then came the Birds, the winners. They were feeling great. They'd won the battle. They marched along: Hup hup hup hup hup! Bat got in back of the line, and he squeaked out, legs and arms flying around: Hoop hoop hoop hoop hoop!

Crow was in front of Bat. He heard that squeaking. He turned around and said, "Haaaaa! Hey, Batty! What are you doing here? Aren't you our enemy? Didn't I see you fighting against us? Haaaaa!"

Bat went into playing innocent, circling and squeaking, pacing and squeaking, thinking it all out. Finally, he said, "Who, me? Certainly you're not talking about me. Why back home, they call me Mister Never-Change-Sides and Mister True-to-the-End. And look. See these? I've got wings. None of those furry Beasts have got any wings. But I've got wings. I'm just like you, just like you, just like you...."

There wasn't anything Crow could say. He just mumbled something to himself about Bat lying between his double row of teeth, and they went ahead and joined the others.

The battles went on with the arrows flying whiz-whiz-whiz. And the spears going whoosh-whoosh-whoosh. And Bat kept switching sides. He only wanted to be with the winner.

* * * * *

Now winter came. The days were cold and wet and windy. None of the animals felt much like fighting. And Bear wanted to get some sleep.

Word spread quickly about Bat. So Bear, wanting to get the whole thing over with, invited all the Birds and all the Beasts to his cave. Again they worked and brought all the dead back to life. That's the way wars were fought back in the old time. Then they all got together to decide what to do with Bat.

Crow strutted around the cave. "Haaaaa! I think we ought to rip him apart, piece by piece, and put all the pieces on a stick and roast him over the fire. And eat him! Sort of a Bat-kabob. Haaaaa!" Crow thought that was a great idea, and all the Birds nodded their beaks in agreement.

But Bear said, yawning, "No. I don't think so. Sometimes I wake up from my sleeping feeling pretty hungry, and a big bowl of mush would be just the thing. Maybe I can sit down on Bat and squash him into mush. Then I can save him up and have plenty to eat between naps, all winter long. This is my cave, after all." Bear thought that was a better idea, and all the Beasts stamped their furry feet in agreement.

Bat -- to say the least -- was feeling nervous. He was shaking like crazy. He couldn't think of anything clever to say, and there was no hollow log to hide in, and no place to run to. And just as things looked pretty grim for Mister True-to-the-End Bat, and Crow had started pulling on Bat's toes, and Bear was practicing sitting down so he could squash Bat to just the right thickness, Coyote came along and immediately took charge.

Now Coyote -- that tricky dog who usually has his nose in things -- is always taking charge. He'd been standing in the back all along and had heard both suggestions.

Coyote sauntered out front and stood in a posture that screamed of self-importance, and he said, "Both of those ideas are pretty good. But I've got a better idea. I always have a better idea. Besides, I'm the one in charge these days and this is what I say. Bat, from this day on, you won't have any friends here, either among the Birds or among the Beasts. You'll be a pretty lonely fellow. You'll fly around all by yourself, and always at night."

All the animals thought that was the best idea yet, despite the fact that it came from Coyote. Everyone, that is, except Crow who was told to quit tugging at Bat's toes, and Bear, who was drooling between yawns, already tasting that bowl of Bat mush.

Coyote, feeling pretty good about the whole thing, went off to make the arrangements, or so he said. And poor Bat, Mister Loyalty, Mister Never-Change-Sides, Mister True-to-the-End, Mister Supervisor, that little, black, squeaky Bat, he went off to play his part. And all through the dark, lonely caves in the Modoc country, he's still doing the same today.