Last year I borrowed a bat detector from my friend Ken, who is the warden at Tower Hamlets Cemetery Park, and a bat lover from way back. Every evening in the summer when we were in Preuilly, we stepped outside the back door, at 9.20 pm, armed with the bat detector and a camera.
The bats come from a garden diagonally behind us. They come, at first just in ones and twos, but soon there is a veritable troupeau. They sweep a circuit over the bare earth that will one day be our garden, between the garage (stable) and the house and barn. They come across us and swing round over Ghislaine's garden next door. We sit on her garden wall and swivel our necks back and forth as if we are watching aerial tennis.