I thought last night might be a good night to count little brown bats, but I thought wrong.

   The robin's nest got in the way.

    For the past two years, I have counted bats for New Jersey's Endangered and Non-Game Species Program.

    The bats are a welcome part of the neighborhood. They are amazing fliers, and they eat lots of insects.

   It has been an easy tour of duty. Just before dark, I sit in a lawn chair and look at the eaves of my neighbor's house and wait for the bats to emerge from behind the shutters and crannies just below the roof line.

    But this year I could not take my accustomed vantage point because of the robin's nest.

   No sooner had I (inadvertently) gotten to within 10 feet of the nest than the mother flew to the nearest roof and started clacking, non-stop, until I moved away.

   Who was I to disturb the robin's evening?

    I will have to wait to do the bat count for a week or two, after the robin babies have fledged.

    I went to the edge of my property line in hopes of seeing the screech owls.

    I waited and watched the trees for 15 minutes, until after dark, but I saw and heard nothing.

    As I went back to the house, I noticed another creature of the night, my first firefly of the season, twinkling silently in the dark.

   In its small way, it lit up the sky.

  Often as not, that's the way observing nature works.

   You may not see what you were looking for, but what you found turned out fine.