Found this little booger laying on the floor at work a week or so ago. The plasterers thought he (I guess he?...) was dead, but a little prodding got him into my hat.
I even ventured to pet him a bit with a finger, but that got him hissing, bearing his little needle-teeth at me and squeaking so I laid off! I kept turning the hat so he'd be facing away from me while he was squeaking and scanning around for his antagonist- when they use their sonar it actually "hits" you. It's a little disconcerting to have a small, very high-pitched beam of sound create a physical impression on your throat! I didn't want his anger shooting at me, it was a little too much like getting "bit", in a way.
I ended up naming him "Cootie", for his bad temper. I left my hat in the building ( Belcourt Castle in Newport, RI), near an entrance to the attic, so he could go back to mom and dad, wife and kids, his buddies, whatever he had there. The next morning my hat was empty, so I figure he's good. Here he is, Cootie the Thunder Bat:
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