Early morning visitors to the dam this week have been treated to a spectacular display of winged mammals over and under bridges, over and under trees and swooping back to bed under the clay tiles they call home. These are Mexican freetailed bats, such fast flyers that they are considered the “jets of the bat world”. They prefer to roost in caves but will settle for attics and abandon buildings. They like to be close to water because it draws the insects they eat and also allows them to drink.
The Evening Emergence: Photo © Lynn McBride
A single bat baby is born each summer and must roost on its own. It’s mother must find it to feed, identifying its call out of hundreds or thousands. Before you reach for that phone to call the exterminator you should know that a single colony can consume as much as 250 pounds of insect a night. Every individual can eat 600 mosquitoes a night. Now that’s what I call a bug zapper.
If you head down to the beaver dams after dinner, before they’re out, and you are blessed with sharp ears you can hear them chittering as they get ready to wake up for a night of feeding. These bats migrate every winter to mate, and are among the most widespread mammal we have. However populations are sharply declining, and this is thought to be do to all the insecticides sprayed on their nightly meals.
Our bats are not declining. While you’re looking down in the water for beavers don’t forget to look up for bats. They’re quite a sight.
“If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose,” the Walrus said,
“That they could get it clear?”
“I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.
I have decided to give up trying not to post about the oil in the gulf. It’s on my mind. I want it to be on everyone’s mind. Last night on PBS Newshour BP Managing Director Robert Dudley said that they had deliberately underreported the amount of oil originally so as not to alarm people. The mind reels. The jaw drops. I’ll just post a daily piece of news about the effects or the arrogance or the heroism or the cowardice or the ramifications under my beaver-beat and I promise when they plug the leak I’ll stop.
