Although I can see them from my porch, I often use the bats as an excuse to make my way down to the bay after eating my dinner. There is no exact time (I think it varies with the weather conditions and other factors), but lately it has been around 6:25 PM. I enjoy spending time just watching and listening to the surf, and feeling the cool sea breezes while I await their appearance. The pelicans (and on rare occasions, the bobbing head of a sea turtle coming up for a breath) provide some extra entertainment while awaiting the main show—the bat exodus. Frequently, a few of the children will see me walking down the main street and follow me to the bay, but the bats do not seem as special to them as they are to me.
Recently, another Peace Corps Volunteer was visiting my village, and she got to see the bats fly out. I was very pleased that she also found it just as fascinating as I did.
Last night, I decided to get a new angle to view the exodus. I climbed up the rock wall of L'islet and headed out to a small clearing, so that I could be further out in the bay as well as higher up than just sea level. I patiently awaited the appearance of the bats from this new vantage point atop this narrow peninsula jutting out into the ocean. The following pictures are presented in the order in which they were taken (hopefully you can see the miniscule black dots against the evening sky—clicking on the pictures to blow them up may be worthwhile for this story).
After a few early individual bats were spotted leaving the cave, the numbers gradually increase as they make their way out. Notice how the string moves as they change altitude and flutter about.