There’s always a problem with bats. This time, a U.S. District Court judge has ruled that a West Virginia wind farm needs a permit to safeguard some bats.

“Like death and taxes, there is a virtual certainty that Indiana bats will be harmed,” the judge says. “The development of wind energy can and should be encouraged, but wind turbines must be good neighbors.”

This wind farm hopes to install 122 turbines and there are estimated to be 457,000 Indiana bats in West Virginia. Some folks might wonder what Indiana bats are doing there, but we need to remember: They probably have relatives, and they want to go back to visit.

My last encounter with a bat was many years ago. My wife scampered downstairs and said, “There’s a bat on the living room wall. Get the broom and try to shoo him outside, like you did the last one.”

It’s not that simple, of course. Shooing a bat involves a lot of ducking and dodging, and flailing the air with one’s weapon of choice. I was hoping the bat would exit through a window or door. This bat went downstairs, upstairs and sailed around for a while before landing on a large beam in the dining room.

I was reminded of some bats we used to shoot off the rafters in our old dairy barn. They weren’t a protected species in those days, and we needed a good rafter for a backstop to avoid putting a hole in the barn roof. I wondered if some folks might have gotten out their .22 rifle and shot this bat off the beam in my house.

I couldn’t do that, of course. Bats are an important part of the ecosystem, eating thousands of bugs a day and contributing to the balance of nature. (Besides, it was too dark to see through my scope.)

The whole thing reminded me of a country doctor in my old hometown. Doc was a good physician, but he had a mischievous streak. One evening he got upset at a mouse in his office and decided to take a shot at the critter.

The mouse had been spotted in the office numerous times and Doc’s nerves were wearing thin. He took a firm rest over the examination table and touched one off.

My dad described Doc’s rifle as an “elephant gun,” but I suspect it was more like a deer rifle. If Dad told the story a few more times, the rifle would have been mounted on wheels. Either way, the blast caused quite a stir in that part of town.

Nobody knows if the waiting room was empty when the shot was fired, but everybody knows it was vacant afterwards. A few folks said, “I’d still go in for a cold or a case of the flu, but I sure wouldn’t go into that office with a broken leg.”

This was before modern firearms laws, gun control and animal rights became a big issue; people had their own code of ethics. Most were more concerned that Doc missed the mouse, than anything else.

Readers with questions or comments for Roger Pond may write to him in care of this publication.