Hi, friends — I hope the air around you is warm and things are looking up. If your gaze is skyward, you might catch sight of a little brown bat (Myotis lucifugus) at dusk. We saw one a couple of weeks ago unexpectedly flitting around the eaves of our home. Years ago, I drew a dozen bats of Nicaragua and realized they have permanent smiles; since then, I’ve been very fond of bats and am always happy to see them, or half-see them, in the pale evening light. — Amy Jean
I love bats. They flit through the evening air like electrons—there and not there. It’s almost impossible to get a fix on them, our perception is just not fast enough. Their movements are silent, almost eerily so, as if on mute. In fact, little brown bats are social creatures and are constantly chattering with each other, but their vocalizations are high frequency and beyond our range. Studies have shown that each species of bat has its own song, each individual its own voice.
I notice small groups on occasion at dusk around soccer fields near trees, where the bugs are plentiful. Using echolocation to hunt, little brown bats can eat up to 80% of their body weight each night, consuming spiders and a wide variety of insects, including beetles, flies, moths, and mosquitoes. I thank them for their appetite and skill every time I scratch a mosquito bite, because—good lord—how many mosquitos would there be without bats?
Bats are the only true flying mammals. This is an incredible fact. Little browns weigh about the same as an empty soda can (something to think about the next time you’re holding an empty soda can). The fingers of bats—four plus a thumb, just like us—form the frame for their wings. Their order name Chiroptera means “hand-wing,” and they have incredible flexibility of motion, almost scooping the air. The bones of bats are light and slender, which means we don’t have a good fossil record for them. Bats are more of an evolutionary mystery than most, and the question remains exactly how they adapted to flight.
The little brown bat basically hunts and sleeps. Even on a summer’s day, they will roost and enter a state of torpor, in which their body temperature and heart rate drop to conserve energy. These daytime “naps” might take place in tree hollows or wood piles, or the eaves of a building. At night, they generally roost together to maintain warmth.
In winter, little browns hibernate together in caves, abandoned buildings, or other empty spaces, wonderfully called hibernacula. Every description of little brown bats mentions their glossy brown fur, and thousands of these glossy little animals might bundle together to survive winter. Incredibly, they can spend eight months in hibernation, taking a breath only once every 30 minutes.
In spring, females congregate in warm nursery roosts to give birth to pups. Mothers hang heads-up prior to birth and use their tail membrane to form a little basket to catch the pup. Young bats recognize their mother’s voice.
The little brown bat was once one of the most common bat species across North America, until white-nose syndrome appeared in 2006. The disease, caused by a cold-temperature fungus accidentally introduced from Europe and aptly named P. destructans, has decimated their population by up to 90% in the Northeast.
Some individuals manage to survive the disease and perhaps the species will be able to adapt (or science will come to their aid), but it’s very possible we will witness an end to the little brown bat in the next decade. We will miss our glossy, winged cohabitants. The evening sky will be less active; hollow spaces in the earth and our architecture will be less occupied; and we may absolutely find out what it’s like to live with more mosquitos.
Little brown bat links—
They’re so small when they’re born: here’s a video of a rescued pup being fed in a little bucket with soft blankets [YouTube via Humboldt Wildlife Care Center]
A mouse with wings—this is a great close-up of a little brown bat snoozing on a window screen [YouTube]
Hinterland’s Who’s Who’s short segment on little brown bats from 2013 comes to you via a cave. [YouTube]
One of my all-time favorite Looney Tunes characters is Batty the bat. If you have some Saturday-morning cartoon time, watch “The Brave Little Bat” from 1941, in which Sniffles the mouse meets Batty the bat for the first time in an old windmill. It’s only about 8 mins and is wonderful. [via DailyMotion]
Not little browns, but this uncanny video of vampire bats set to music like a goth disco got me through some dark winter days [YouTube]
Animal encounters in recent comments—
Does anyone else have that strong earthy memory from childhood, digging for nightcrawlers to go fishing? Nicole reminded me of it (thank you, Nicole!). I used to love fishing at Lake Eufaula in Oklahoma.
Also—
Dolphins in the East River, NYC! Dolphins in Venice, Italy! Please let me know if you have any experience with wild dolphins. I’m so curious.
My bat drawing is for sale; please reply if you’re interested. I’ll donate some of the proceeds to Bat Conservation International.
The new book Florapedia is now in bookstores. I contributed 50+ drawings and to celebrate I’m going to sell them—I’ll get a link going next week, first dibs to subscribers.
Thanks for reading! Wild Life is a small weekly adventure about the life around us. I started it as a way to connect during the pandemic, and I love writing it. Hearing stories first-hand from readers and learning more about animals has a positive effect. Please share with friends and family who would enjoy. I’d love to grow this community so that we can learn about wildlife around the world, one small story at a time.
Love the description of bats like electrons, that's so apt. Reminds me of seeing little particles in a cloud chamber.
Through quarantine, the place I've been going to for nature is Fort Funston at the southernmost end of San Francisco's coast. There are cliffs pretty high up from the beach where you can see many tens of miles out over the ocean, and catch some cool sunsets.
When the sky gets dark enough for the birds to stop hunting, but not dark enough for the bats to come out, you can see all kinds of bugs roaming everywhere. It's like they know they have this little window of safety.
Soon after the sun sets, bats come out from everywhere and hunt. It's really fun to watch. They fly so differently from birds, although one time I saw a bat cruise along the thermals generated by the cliffs like it was a sea bird.
Funny enough, I can occasionally also spot dolphins from the same spot. They're usually gone before the sun sets, but once I saw a pod silhouetted by a very low dusk sun: was really striking.
The only time I’ve encountered bats was in Italy. I was in the pool as the sun was setting. All my friends had left and I was alone, half-in and half-out of the water when a bat swooped past me and scared the hell out of me. More followed but I realized they weren’t going to run into me so I kind of just stood there and let it happen for a bit. One of the more surreal memories from my life.