Since Bert is still on my mind, I'm posting a link to a bat poem and bat posts on my other blog. The picture is of Bat-face Cuphea. The poem on the other post is by Randall Jarrell and here is one by Theodore Roethke.
By day the bat is cousin to the mouse.
He likes the attic of an aging house.
His fingers make a hat about his head.
His pulse beat is so slow we think him dead.
He loops in crazy figures half the night
Among the trees that face the corner light.
But when he brushes up against a screen,
We are afraid of what our eyes have seen:
For something is amiss or out of place
When mice with wings can wear a human face.