i caught a bat once. it was probably sick. i put it in a shoe box and showed my friends. this is a good way to creep people out i found. i let it go in the backyard and never saw it again. i said, "bye, bat," but it didn't feel like making a big deal about it. some bats are like that.
I like bats. A couple of years ago one of our cats was showing an inordinate amount of interest to my shelf full of cook books in the kitchen. Up on her hind legs sniffing around my Julia Childs and Jacques Pepin. Couldn't figure it out until I pulled one of the volumes and found a bat curled up back there. Not sure how he even got into the house. A pair of heavy gauntlet gloves and I released him outside, but not sure he survived.
My saddest encounter with a bat was when I was dry fly fishing at dusk on a small stream in Wyoming forty years ago. All of a sudden my forward cast stopped dead. I assumed I had hooked a branch behind me but no. The line had fallen to the ground. I walked back to see a small bat laying in the rocks. It had taken my tiny Adams in mid air. All the way into its gut. I kneeled there with tears streaming down my cheeks as I realized it was doomed and I had to kill it.