Berry Batty

Bat’s Garden Memoirs – Chapter One: The Strawberry Heist

The mission was simple. Get in. Get the berry. Get out.

Bat hovered just above the garden, scanning the rows of plants below with unwavering focus. The others—Rabbit, Raccoon, even Crow—had their own methods of gathering food. But Bat? Bat worked alone.

Then, he spotted it.

A flawless strawberry, glistening in the moonlight, its deep red hue practically calling his name. He folded his wings, dropped into a dive, and—snatch!—secured his prize with the precision of a master thief.

Just as he was about to retreat into the night, a voice cut through the darkness.

"Stealing from the garden again? Real original."

Bat froze mid-flight and turned. Perched on a crooked fence post, feathers slightly ruffled, sat Grumpy Owl, eyes half-lidded in what could only be described as deep, long-suffering judgment.

Bat narrowed his eyes. "I work in the shadows."

Grumpy Owl let out a slow, unimpressed blink. "And yet, somehow, you’re always seen."

Bat took a slow, deliberate bite of the strawberry, never breaking eye contact. "Where’s the fun in being predictable?"

Grumpy Owl sighed, ruffling his feathers. "Just don’t expect me to bail you out when the gardener sets up defenses. Again."

Bat smirked. Then, in a blur of wings, he was gone—swallowed by the night, save for the faintest crunch of a perfectly ripe berry.

But even a lone vigilante needs allies sometimes. Drawn by the soft flicker of the campfire, Bat eventually found himself perched on a low branch, watching as Raccoon enthusiastically tossed more corn kernels into the pan. The fire crackled, golden popcorn spilling over the sides, and the scent of warm butter drifted through the cool night air.

Without a word, Bat descended, landing beside the others with a swish of his wings. He inspected the popcorn with a calculated gaze, then selected a single piece, nibbling thoughtfully.

"Well?" Rabbit asked.

Bat nodded slowly. "Acceptable."

Raccoon grinned. "High praise."

And just like that, Bat settled in, blending into the shadows as the laughter of his friends echoed into the night. Because even the darkest creatures know—some nights aren’t meant for solitude. They’re meant for strawberries, popcorn, and a campfire shared with friends.