Once upon a time, I went to Carlsbad Caverns. My grandfather and his awful wife took me and two of my cousins. We wandered around the caverns but only to stop and look at the things that she wanted to stop for. We did not get any souvenirs or take any pictures. Apparently a certain someone didn't think that was necessary. We finished looking at the caves about thirty minutes before the bats come out of the natural entrance and that certain someone told us it was time to leave. Isn't seeing the bats one of the reasons you go to the caverns? I hadn't given it much thought since then (as I tend to block out disappointments), but being this close to Carlsbad Caverns made me think about how much resented not being able to see the bat flight. So today, I righted that wrong. I wandered around the caves and saw the things I wanted to see, took lots of pictures (I bought a new camera just for that purpose), spent way too much money in the gift shop, and then I watched the bats. It was one of the best days ever. Unfortunately, they don't let you photograph the bats so I took the picture from their website to give you an idea of how wonderful it was.
And don't worry this is my last sappy blog because there was some good stuff that happened there. Just tune in for more Pineapple Adventures.
3 comments:
Hey, I happen to like sappy stuff... I guess bats are shy, that's why they won't let you take pictures of them.
I guess that is the difference between urban and rural bats. The bats in Austin live under a busy bridge so they don't give a damn if you stalk them like the paparazzi.
Hey, a little sincerity every now and then is OK, Miss Pineapple. We don't always have to be clever and sarcastic!
When E and I went to this railroad cave near Fredericksburg, we took pictures--they just didn't let us use flash... so we got a big ole blur. But we heard a great (and kind of gross story) about how there are so many bats flying aroundaroundaround getting out of the cave that sometimes they crash into each other and fall down to the ground, where there are shifty little racoons waiting to pick them up and make them dinner.
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