A collection of poems and short stories written by those who love bats
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A collection of poems and short stories
written by those who love bats
Introduction
We held a writing competition for European Bat Weekend 2011 to gather your
best stories, poems and encounters of bats. There were three categories; Bats at
Home, Bats Abroad and Volunteering with Bats.
We had a great response and it was really hard to decide on the winners. After
much thought we finally narrowed it down and here is a copy of the entries that
won, and came highly commended.
Thank you for all your wonderful entries, and congratulations to the winners.
We hope you enjoy reading them as much as we did!
1Bats at Home
Moth wings decorate
the floor of our sheltered porch
bat in residence
Mike Toms
Category and overall winner
2Bats at Home
Bats and Molly, age 11
After going on an organised Bat walk with your association [Bat Conservation Trust] at
Whixhall Common with my Dad I became extremely interested in Bats and their behaviour.
This encouraged us to purchase a Bat detector. We finally decided that the CIEL CB 101 Bat
detector was the one for us, and we weren’t wrong as we were over the moon with the result.
Our local area is Telford and Wrekin and we appear to have many places all around us with
Bat boxes and ideal places for Bats. Me and my Dad mostly enjoy visiting Apley Wood
because there are lots of clearings and seated areas so we can literally watch the Bats fly
passed once detected. Here we have detected lots of Common and Soprano Pipistrelles,
which for us beginners is very interesting as they are everywhere. Also at The Silkin Way in
the Wellington area there are mostly Soprano Pipistrelles. To our surprise at Ercall Wood by
the Wrekin Hill we believe we have located and sighted a Whiskered Bat, me and my Dad
found this very strange as the place where we found them as it was on top of a bridge
crossing the busy M54.
On another occasion me my little sister, mom and dad went camping to Shell Island in Wales.
At night the sea water surrounds the island so you cannot get off. Even here we came across a
solitary Common Pipistrelle miles away from any trees and was strangely circling around the
waters. We thought it was a Daubentons but far too small. The next night me and my Dad
went to the main land at Llanbedr and luckily five hours before the tide came in. In the
Llanbedr area me and my Dad were amazed, we located Daubentons, Common and Soprano
Pipistrelles, a couple of Whiskered Bats and a solitary mystery Bat we could not identify. The
frequency for this bat was very high and made a sound that we were not familiar with at this
stage.
A few days after we returned from Shell Island and went down near London to visit
Chessington World of Adventure. We couldn’t resist taking the Bat detector with us. Again
we were not wrong about doing this as on one evening we were delighted with a fine aerial
display from a group of Pipistrelles just above our heads. We were under a tree canopy in a
quiet lane where we were staying in Chobham. We were even more amazed when my dad
tossed a small object in the air to see the bats investigate if this was an insect. We were truly
stunned by this.
We have now bought some amplified speakers and a recorder and have recorded some bat
sounds and also I am a user on your website. Thank you ever so much for setting up the Bat
walks, we would never have learnt this much without you.
Molly Poulter
Category winner, Under 16
3Bats at Home
The Magic Box
It was a magical moment. I couldn't see what I was hearing but I knew they were all around
me. Somewhere in that darkness they were flying at a cracking pace hunting their prey, and
making their stunning manoeuvres in the air. I couldn't see but I was able to hear, and that
was something magnificent, something ineffably beautiful. A secret world had just opened its
door to me, and I knew I was hearing something that the other passers-by didn't hear. I forgot
the coldness of the countryside night, and the world around me ceased to be significant.
Everything that mattered at that very moment was the chirping sound which came out of the
little yellow box in my hand. "The magic box", I thought, and closed my eyes.
While listening to the common pipistrelles echolocating, I was thinking about their name in
my mother tongue. In Finnish they are "puny bats" - that's the closest translation to
"vaivaislepakko". It's not a fair name at all because bats are the unchallengeable heroes of the
night! They are the only mammals that can fly, and they do it very well indeed. Night is their
friend, light their enemy, and hearing is their seeing when it becomes too dark. Yes, these
bats are very small but there is no way that they would be puny. And I kept listening.
When I opened my eyes again, I saw the river flowing under the bridge I was standing on,
and the whitewashed limestone houses of the village. Reluctantly I switched off my brand
new bat detector, and started to walk towards the caving club's house. However, I knew
already that this experience was something I wouldn't ever forget. It was my own magical
moment - just me, and the bats.
Taina Nyman
Highly commended
4Bats at Home
The stranger on the bridge
A boyhood hobby of fishing, a sense of adventure, the shock of the unexpected and a
storyteller led me to seek out and develop my passion for bats and the natural world. Whilst
holidaying near Malham when I was 16, my friend and I had the bright idea of night fishing.
Failing earlier in the day to tickle and catch trout, in our youthful wisdom, we decided that
the best way to land enough for supper was to fish, with a rod and worm, from the bridge in
Malham, in the dark.
The moon was bright and the night air still, the gentle bubbling of the stream, the distant
croak of frogs and the screech of local owls penetrated the cool night air. Arriving at the
bridge, I set up my tackle and attached a small but juicy wriggling red worm. I extended my
fishing line and lowered it over the side of the bridge down towards the rippling stream.
Without any warning my rod suddenly lifted skywards, then veered to the left and then to the
right, for a few seconds I could not work out what was happening, increasingly confused and
bewildered by my fishing rod’s sudden and unexpected animation. I attempted to gather the
fishing line. I could see a silhouette of a bird-like creature fluttering back and forth trying to
get free. My heart sank.
“You’ve got yourself a prize catch there my lad.” A tall bearded man approached and quickly
wound the fishing line in. He reached out and carefully cradled a beautiful and magnificent
bat. I cringed when I saw my tiny fishing hook caught on the edge of its wing. The man
gently removed the hook and folded its wings to hold it safe and secure.
He spent the next 15 minutes or so telling us about the world of bats and showing us what
magnificent and beautiful creatures they were. The stranger told me that it was likely the bat
sensed the movement of the fishing bait as it was lowered and caught its wing on the hook as
it flew to avoid it. He popped it into his pocket and re-assured us that he would care for it and
release it once it had recovered. We didn’t do any more fishing that night.
We ran back to the campsite and related our tale of fishing and bats. I never saw the man
again and I often think about the bat and its ordeal. That was the first time ever I had been
face to face with a bat, such a magnificent creature. The stranger on the bridge told us his
stories and shared his knowledge about bats and their place in the natural world. In less than
15 minutes, he’d enthused my quest to learn. Passing on our knowledge is key to
understanding and crucial if we are to maintain balance and harmony in nature, for that I
thank both him and the bat.
Ian Hicken
Highly commended
5Bats Abroad
Little Leptos
Late in the summer in the darkness of night, mysterious visitors dance in flight.
Outside my window where the hummingbirds feed, appear little creatures bounding with
speed.
With amazing beauty these acrobats fly,
swarming the feeder then dart of in sky.
In flight they swirl and they swoop and they dive, they twist and they twirl each time they
arrive.
They can fly each night for six hours or more.
And go fifty miles before sun lights their door.
They hover in darkness, feed on night blooming plants.
Without them the saquaro might not have a chance.
Who are these creatures that come in the night, mysterious visitors such experts in flight?
They are part of a family called leaf nosed bat.
Enthusiasts nicknamed them leptos in fact.
With a triangular nose-leaf that juts from their snout, these unique little mammals fly all
about
The biologists say they are Phyllostomidae Lesser Long-nosed Bat Leptonycteris
yerbabuenae.
Meg Benhase
Category winner
6Bats Abroad
Side by Side
‘That night a bat flew into the room through the open door that led onto the balcony and
through which we watched the night over the roofs of the town. It was dark in our room
except for the small light of the night over the town and the bat was not frightened but hunted
in the room as though he had been outside. We lay and watched him and I do not think he
saw us because we lay so still. After he went out we saw a searchlight come on and watched
the beam move across the sky and then go off and it was dark again’
Ernest Hemingway – A Farewell to Arms
I like to imagine the bat that circled the room that night would be a great grandparent of those
that pour from the basilica I see through my window. I'm watching now, my favourite time of
the day, the changing of the shift as swifts swirl and churn and scream around the balustrades.
They circle against the sky even after the sun has set, saying their goodnights, when suddenly
you notice something different, other creatures which fall, fast and determined from the block
work and are gone. When the sun breaks across the horizon they dilly and dally and chatter
and bicker like the birds before returning home, but for now, night is falling. Now is the hour
of the bats.
I wonder how long they have been there, they probably moved in before the building was
even complete. I wonder whether anybody gave them a second thought when the bombs
blasted the city apart, in the days around the night when that bat flew in through the window
and circled the room. I wonder how many families evacuated their roosts as roofs were ripped
from buildings. I wonder how many found shelter in the destruction, slipping into cavities in
walls, exposed by the same catastrophes that had stripped their shelter.
Their world is more stable now. As the sun sets each night, they fan out around the city, as
surely as the suited commuters who leave for work each morning. Some count each tree as
they roll along leafy streets, making their way to parks and gardens; others take to the
waterways, sailing along the canals and feasting on the mosquitoes, briefly noticed by the
locals who are seated sipping wine and laughing at lamp-lit tables along the waterfront. In the
summer, the bats come and go throughout the night, returning to nourish their young and in
August, I watch the young ones take flight, obvious beginners who tumble through the air
whilst their parents soar on strong, knowing wings. In the winter they slip deeper into the
depths of the church, finding refuge from the cold and the wind and the rain. But when the
temperatures rise and the insects fly, they will creep from their crevices and return to the
streets, just as the generation before, and the generation before, and the generation before, all
the way back to the bat which flew in through the window and circled the room that night.
I wonder how many of my nocturnal neighbours will pass me unseen when I step out tonight,
cloaked in the blackness that hangs above the streetlights.
James Faulconbridge
Highly commended
7Bats Abroad
Canadian little brown bats
I stand outside an old disused mine in the wilds of Ontario, Canada. I’m here to collect data
for my PhD project on bat echolocation. Despite the strongest bug spray I could find, it feels
like I am being eaten to death by the swarm of mosquitoes around me. In the darkness, my
field assistant and I set up our equipment to record echolocation calls and thermal videos.
Once it is all ready, we turn off our headlamps and wait patiently in the darkness ready for
the bats to arrive. We don’t know how long we can bear the biting, but we hold fast, hoping
that we will be in luck tonight. I stare at a dark blue screen on my laptop – the faint thermal
image of the cave is motionless and cold. For some time, all we can hear is the soft rustling of
the trees around us and the occasional loud buzz of a mosquito. Then finally they come - a
handful of little brown bats (Myotis lucifugus) flutter and swerve past us into the entrance of
the mine. Three glowing golden-red orbs with pale blue wings whizz past on my dark blue
screen – I hit record and I really, really hope I caught that one on file! In years past there
would have been hoards of them here – but we are happy to see the handful of bats that fly
into the cave. We know, if the models are correct, they may be among the last of their kind.
We are here to record so late because this is a night roost – a stopover point after the bats first
bout of hunting - where they digest for a while and then move on to continue foraging before
heading back to their day roosts. Ontario looks like bat heaven – huge lakes, thick forests and
lots and lots of insects! Yet I hear more and more reports from friends and colleagues of how
few bats they have seen this year. It’s worrying, and I know it’s more than just me that is
worrying about them. White-nose syndrome has hit hard here – the fungus Geomyces
destructans is killing bats across North America at an unprecedented rate. Scientists here are
frantically searching for a solution – but most fear that it is spreading so fast it may well be
too late to save the little brown bat.
Kayleigh Fawcett
Highly commended
8Volunteering with Bats
Drama at Dawn
The Georgian mansion, set in rural Pembrokeshire, was the impressive setting for an
astounding experience with bats. The area was beautiful, comprising gentle countryside and
farmland interspersed with pockets of mixed woodland - ideal habitat for bats!
I was on a bat survey course with the Bat Conservation Trust. During the training we were
told to take a look around a building which served as the warden’s house. At first glance there
was nothing too special about the house, though we soon noticed signs that hinted at the
presence of bats. We spotted an inconspicuous hole just below the roof which was completely
surrounded by droppings, a tell-tale sign of a roost.
.
Later that evening we counted bats emerging from the roost and discovered that the warden
shared his house with a staggering five hundred Soprano Pipistrelles. Each bat emerged from
the hole one-by-one in a regular, orderly fashion, allowing us a quick glimpse before flying
off into the surrounding countryside to forage for the night.
The course instructor hinted that if we were to return to the spot just before dawn, we might
be in for something special. So we duly set our alarm clocks, rolled out of bed, headed for the
house armed with torches and bat detectors, and took our seats in anticipation
.
What we witnessed was far more dramatic than what we had seen the previous evening.
Rather than coming out in single-file, the sky was now full with some five hundred bats
trying to get back into a hole that was big enough for just one or possibly two. While waiting
for an opportunity to enter the roost, the bats that remained outside where swooping, swerving
and diving above us, and some were making audible squeaks which were actually quite loud.
I wondered how the warden managed to get any sleep!
This spectacle seemed surreal and otherworldly. There was so much activity and unbounded
energy in the sky just above my head that I kept wondering if I were really asleep and
dreaming the whole scene. My body was telling me I was awake, but my mind was struggling
to absorb such a frantic vision. Other course participants who had also managed to resist the
warm clutches of their beds were unusually quiet, as they too were enthralled by the theatrics
on display. Of course our various bat detectors were all going berserk due to the sheer
numbers of calls being made, including those of mothers encouraging their young into the
roost.
As the rising sun started to illuminate more of the building, we could gradually see what was
actually taking place at the roost entrance. As it transpired, one or occasionally two bats at a
time would head for the roof, cling to the wall just below the entrance, and then crawl in to
the narrow space they called home. This continued until finally the last Pipistrelle made its
way into the gap and the roost was silent...until the next night...
Peter Timm
Category winner
9Bat Conservation Trust, 5th Floor, Quadrant House, 250 Kennington Lane, London, SE11 5RD, 0845 1300 228,
enquiries@bats.org.uk
Registered charity in England and Wales number 1012361, Scotland SC040116.
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