I need a bat. The flying, insect-eating variety, not the sporting kind. Walking around with a cricket bat on a leash might be assuming a kind of crazy that can wait till I’m in my eighties. Although on reflection, it would give my flying bat something to cling to and sleep on, slung over my shoulder during the day. Maybe in a handkerchief sleeping bag as I walked about town….I digress…
The campground at Mount Kerkoslin (our second camp ground after leaving Canmore), was plagued by more mosquitos than a mosquito research centre. Few things irritate me, and I can normally grin and bear most inconveniences as I travel, but insect bites are my bug bears. Although I may moan about being bitten often, I really don’t know anyone that mosquitos love more. My travelling copilot literally doesn’t need to use repellant when I’m around. My best, but most unrealistic solution? A pet bat.
I bet Bruce Wayne never had mosquito issues.