A collection of poems and short stories written by those who love bats
A collection of poems and short stories written by those who love bats
A collection of poems and short stories written by those who love bats
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A <strong>collection</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>poems</strong> <strong>and</strong> <strong>short</strong> <strong>stories</strong><br />
<strong>written</strong> <strong>by</strong> <strong>those</strong> <strong>who</strong> <strong>love</strong> <strong>bats</strong>
Introduction<br />
We held a writing competition for European Bat Weekend 2011 to gather your<br />
best <strong>stories</strong>, <strong>poems</strong> <strong>and</strong> encounters <strong>of</strong> <strong>bats</strong>. There were three categories; Bats at<br />
Home, Bats Abroad <strong>and</strong> Volunteering with Bats.<br />
We had a great response <strong>and</strong> it was really hard to decide on the winners. After<br />
much thought we finally narrowed it down <strong>and</strong> here is a copy <strong>of</strong> the entries that<br />
won, <strong>and</strong> came highly commended.<br />
Thank you for all your wonderful entries, <strong>and</strong> congratulations to the winners.<br />
We hope you enjoy reading them as much as we did!<br />
1
Moth wings decorate<br />
the floor <strong>of</strong> our sheltered porch<br />
bat in residence<br />
2<br />
Bats at Home<br />
Mike Toms<br />
Category <strong>and</strong> overall winner
Bats <strong>and</strong> Molly, age 11<br />
After going on an organised Bat walk with your association [Bat Conservation Trust] at<br />
Whixhall Common with my Dad I became extremely interested in Bats <strong>and</strong> their behaviour.<br />
This encouraged us to purchase a Bat detector. We finally decided that the CIEL CB 101 Bat<br />
detector was the one for us, <strong>and</strong> we weren’t wrong as we were over the moon with the result.<br />
Our local area is Telford <strong>and</strong> Wrekin <strong>and</strong> we appear to have many places all around us with<br />
Bat boxes <strong>and</strong> ideal places for Bats. Me <strong>and</strong> my Dad mostly enjoy visiting Apley Wood<br />
because there are lots <strong>of</strong> clearings <strong>and</strong> seated areas so we can literally watch the Bats fly<br />
passed once detected. Here we have detected lots <strong>of</strong> Common <strong>and</strong> Soprano Pipistrelles,<br />
which for us beginners is very interesting as they are everywhere. Also at The Silkin Way in<br />
the Wellington area there are mostly Soprano Pipistrelles. To our surprise at Ercall Wood <strong>by</strong><br />
the Wrekin Hill we believe we have located <strong>and</strong> sighted a Whiskered Bat, me <strong>and</strong> my Dad<br />
found this very strange as the place where we found them as it was on top <strong>of</strong> a bridge<br />
crossing the busy M54.<br />
On another occasion me my little sister, mom <strong>and</strong> dad went camping to Shell Isl<strong>and</strong> in Wales.<br />
At night the sea water surrounds the isl<strong>and</strong> so you cannot get <strong>of</strong>f. Even here we came across a<br />
solitary Common Pipistrelle miles away from any trees <strong>and</strong> was strangely circling around the<br />
waters. We thought it was a Daubentons but far too small. The next night me <strong>and</strong> my Dad<br />
went to the main l<strong>and</strong> at Llanbedr <strong>and</strong> luckily five hours before the tide came in. In the<br />
Llanbedr area me <strong>and</strong> my Dad were amazed, we located Daubentons, Common <strong>and</strong> Soprano<br />
Pipistrelles, a couple <strong>of</strong> Whiskered Bats <strong>and</strong> a solitary mystery Bat we could not identify. The<br />
frequency for this bat was very high <strong>and</strong> made a sound that we were not familiar with at this<br />
stage.<br />
A few days after we returned from Shell Isl<strong>and</strong> <strong>and</strong> went down near London to visit<br />
Chessington World <strong>of</strong> Adventure. We couldn’t resist taking the Bat detector with us. Again<br />
we were not wrong about doing this as on one evening we were delighted with a fine aerial<br />
display from a group <strong>of</strong> Pipistrelles just above our heads. We were under a tree canopy in a<br />
quiet lane where we were staying in Chobham. We were even more amazed when my dad<br />
tossed a small object in the air to see the <strong>bats</strong> investigate if this was an insect. We were truly<br />
stunned <strong>by</strong> this.<br />
We have now bought some amplified speakers <strong>and</strong> a recorder <strong>and</strong> have recorded some bat<br />
sounds <strong>and</strong> also I am a user on your website. Thank you ever so much for setting up the Bat<br />
walks, we would never have learnt this much without you.<br />
3<br />
Molly Poulter<br />
Category winner, Under 16<br />
Bats at Home
The Magic Box<br />
It was a magical moment. I couldn't see what I was hearing but I knew they were all around<br />
me. Somewhere in that darkness they were flying at a cracking pace hunting their prey, <strong>and</strong><br />
making their stunning manoeuvres in the air. I couldn't see but I was able to hear, <strong>and</strong> that<br />
was something magnificent, something ineffably beautiful. A secret world had just opened its<br />
door to me, <strong>and</strong> I knew I was hearing something that the other passers-<strong>by</strong> didn't hear. I forgot<br />
the coldness <strong>of</strong> the countryside night, <strong>and</strong> the world around me ceased to be significant.<br />
Everything that mattered at that very moment was the chirping sound which came out <strong>of</strong> the<br />
little yellow box in my h<strong>and</strong>. "The magic box", I thought, <strong>and</strong> closed my eyes.<br />
While listening to the common pipistrelles echolocating, I was thinking about their name in<br />
my mother tongue. In Finnish they are "puny <strong>bats</strong>" - that's the closest translation to<br />
"vaivaislepakko". It's not a fair name at all because <strong>bats</strong> are the unchallengeable heroes <strong>of</strong> the<br />
night! They are the only mammals that can fly, <strong>and</strong> they do it very well indeed. Night is their<br />
friend, light their enemy, <strong>and</strong> hearing is their seeing when it becomes too dark. Yes, these<br />
<strong>bats</strong> are very small but there is no way that they would be puny. And I kept listening.<br />
When I opened my eyes again, I saw the river flowing under the bridge I was st<strong>and</strong>ing on,<br />
<strong>and</strong> the whitewashed limestone houses <strong>of</strong> the village. Reluctantly I switched <strong>of</strong>f my br<strong>and</strong><br />
new bat detector, <strong>and</strong> started to walk towards the caving club's house. However, I knew<br />
already that this experience was something I wouldn't ever forget. It was my own magical<br />
moment - just me, <strong>and</strong> the <strong>bats</strong>.<br />
4<br />
Taina Nyman<br />
Highly commended<br />
Bats at Home
The stranger on the bridge<br />
A boyhood hob<strong>by</strong> <strong>of</strong> fishing, a sense <strong>of</strong> adventure, the shock <strong>of</strong> the unexpected <strong>and</strong> a<br />
storyteller led me to seek out <strong>and</strong> develop my passion for <strong>bats</strong> <strong>and</strong> the natural world. Whilst<br />
holidaying near Malham when I was 16, my friend <strong>and</strong> I had the bright idea <strong>of</strong> night fishing.<br />
Failing earlier in the day to tickle <strong>and</strong> catch trout, in our youthful wisdom, we decided that<br />
the best way to l<strong>and</strong> enough for supper was to fish, with a rod <strong>and</strong> worm, from the bridge in<br />
Malham, in the dark.<br />
The moon was bright <strong>and</strong> the night air still, the gentle bubbling <strong>of</strong> the stream, the distant<br />
croak <strong>of</strong> frogs <strong>and</strong> the screech <strong>of</strong> local owls penetrated the cool night air. Arriving at the<br />
bridge, I set up my tackle <strong>and</strong> attached a small but juicy wriggling red worm. I extended my<br />
fishing line <strong>and</strong> lowered it over the side <strong>of</strong> the bridge down towards the rippling stream.<br />
Without any warning my rod suddenly lifted skywards, then veered to the left <strong>and</strong> then to the<br />
right, for a few seconds I could not work out what was happening, increasingly confused <strong>and</strong><br />
bewildered <strong>by</strong> my fishing rod’s sudden <strong>and</strong> unexpected animation. I attempted to gather the<br />
fishing line. I could see a silhouette <strong>of</strong> a bird-like creature fluttering back <strong>and</strong> forth trying to<br />
get free. My heart sank.<br />
“You’ve got yourself a prize catch there my lad.” A tall bearded man approached <strong>and</strong> quickly<br />
wound the fishing line in. He reached out <strong>and</strong> carefully cradled a beautiful <strong>and</strong> magnificent<br />
bat. I cringed when I saw my tiny fishing hook caught on the edge <strong>of</strong> its wing. The man<br />
gently removed the hook <strong>and</strong> folded its wings to hold it safe <strong>and</strong> secure.<br />
He spent the next 15 minutes or so telling us about the world <strong>of</strong> <strong>bats</strong> <strong>and</strong> showing us what<br />
magnificent <strong>and</strong> beautiful creatures they were. The stranger told me that it was likely the bat<br />
sensed the movement <strong>of</strong> the fishing bait as it was lowered <strong>and</strong> caught its wing on the hook as<br />
it flew to avoid it. He popped it into his pocket <strong>and</strong> re-assured us that he would care for it <strong>and</strong><br />
release it once it had recovered. We didn’t do any more fishing that night.<br />
We ran back to the campsite <strong>and</strong> related our tale <strong>of</strong> fishing <strong>and</strong> <strong>bats</strong>. I never saw the man<br />
again <strong>and</strong> I <strong>of</strong>ten think about the bat <strong>and</strong> its ordeal. That was the first time ever I had been<br />
face to face with a bat, such a magnificent creature. The stranger on the bridge told us his<br />
<strong>stories</strong> <strong>and</strong> shared his knowledge about <strong>bats</strong> <strong>and</strong> their place in the natural world. In less than<br />
15 minutes, he’d enthused my quest to learn. Passing on our knowledge is key to<br />
underst<strong>and</strong>ing <strong>and</strong> crucial if we are to maintain balance <strong>and</strong> harmony in nature, for that I<br />
thank both him <strong>and</strong> the bat.<br />
5<br />
Ian Hicken<br />
Highly commended<br />
Bats at Home
Little Leptos<br />
Late in the summer in the darkness <strong>of</strong> night, mysterious visitors dance in flight.<br />
Outside my window where the hummingbirds feed, appear little creatures bounding with<br />
speed.<br />
With amazing beauty these acro<strong>bats</strong> fly,<br />
swarming the feeder then dart <strong>of</strong> in sky.<br />
In flight they swirl <strong>and</strong> they swoop <strong>and</strong> they dive, they twist <strong>and</strong> they twirl each time they<br />
arrive.<br />
They can fly each night for six hours or more.<br />
And go fifty miles before sun lights their door.<br />
They hover in darkness, feed on night blooming plants.<br />
Without them the saquaro might not have a chance.<br />
Who are these creatures that come in the night, mysterious visitors such experts in flight?<br />
They are part <strong>of</strong> a family called leaf nosed bat.<br />
Enthusiasts nicknamed them leptos in fact.<br />
With a triangular nose-leaf that juts from their snout, these unique little mammals fly all<br />
about<br />
The biologists say they are Phyllostomidae Lesser Long-nosed Bat Leptonycteris<br />
yerbabuenae.<br />
6<br />
Meg Benhase<br />
Category winner<br />
Bats Abroad
Side <strong>by</strong> Side<br />
‘That night a bat flew into the room through the open door that led onto the balcony <strong>and</strong><br />
through which we watched the night over the ro<strong>of</strong>s <strong>of</strong> the town. It was dark in our room<br />
except for the small light <strong>of</strong> the night over the town <strong>and</strong> the bat was not frightened but hunted<br />
in the room as though he had been outside. We lay <strong>and</strong> watched him <strong>and</strong> I do not think he<br />
saw us because we lay so still. After he went out we saw a searchlight come on <strong>and</strong> watched<br />
the beam move across the sky <strong>and</strong> then go <strong>of</strong>f <strong>and</strong> it was dark again’<br />
Ernest Hemingway – A Farewell to Arms<br />
I like to imagine the bat that circled the room that night would be a great gr<strong>and</strong>parent <strong>of</strong> <strong>those</strong><br />
that pour from the basilica I see through my window. I'm watching now, my favourite time <strong>of</strong><br />
the day, the changing <strong>of</strong> the shift as swifts swirl <strong>and</strong> churn <strong>and</strong> scream around the balustrades.<br />
They circle against the sky even after the sun has set, saying their goodnights, when suddenly<br />
you notice something different, other creatures which fall, fast <strong>and</strong> determined from the block<br />
work <strong>and</strong> are gone. When the sun breaks across the horizon they dilly <strong>and</strong> dally <strong>and</strong> chatter<br />
<strong>and</strong> bicker like the birds before returning home, but for now, night is falling. Now is the hour<br />
<strong>of</strong> the <strong>bats</strong>.<br />
I wonder how long they have been there, they probably moved in before the building was<br />
even complete. I wonder whether anybody gave them a second thought when the bombs<br />
blasted the city apart, in the days around the night when that bat flew in through the window<br />
<strong>and</strong> circled the room. I wonder how many families evacuated their roosts as ro<strong>of</strong>s were ripped<br />
from buildings. I wonder how many found shelter in the destruction, slipping into cavities in<br />
walls, exposed <strong>by</strong> the same catastrophes that had stripped their shelter.<br />
Their world is more stable now. As the sun sets each night, they fan out around the city, as<br />
surely as the suited commuters <strong>who</strong> leave for work each morning. Some count each tree as<br />
they roll along leafy streets, making their way to parks <strong>and</strong> gardens; others take to the<br />
waterways, sailing along the canals <strong>and</strong> feasting on the mosquitoes, briefly noticed <strong>by</strong> the<br />
locals <strong>who</strong> are seated sipping wine <strong>and</strong> laughing at lamp-lit tables along the waterfront. In the<br />
summer, the <strong>bats</strong> come <strong>and</strong> go throughout the night, returning to nourish their young <strong>and</strong> in<br />
August, I watch the young ones take flight, obvious beginners <strong>who</strong> tumble through the air<br />
whilst their parents soar on strong, knowing wings. In the winter they slip deeper into the<br />
depths <strong>of</strong> the church, finding refuge from the cold <strong>and</strong> the wind <strong>and</strong> the rain. But when the<br />
temperatures rise <strong>and</strong> the insects fly, they will creep from their crevices <strong>and</strong> return to the<br />
streets, just as the generation before, <strong>and</strong> the generation before, <strong>and</strong> the generation before, all<br />
the way back to the bat which flew in through the window <strong>and</strong> circled the room that night.<br />
I wonder how many <strong>of</strong> my nocturnal neighbours will pass me unseen when I step out tonight,<br />
cloaked in the blackness that hangs above the streetlights.<br />
James Faulconbridge<br />
Highly commended<br />
7<br />
Bats Abroad
Canadian little brown <strong>bats</strong><br />
I st<strong>and</strong> outside an old disused mine in the wilds <strong>of</strong> Ontario, Canada. I’m here to collect data<br />
for my PhD project on bat echolocation. Despite the strongest bug spray I could find, it feels<br />
like I am being eaten to death <strong>by</strong> the swarm <strong>of</strong> mosquitoes around me. In the darkness, my<br />
field assistant <strong>and</strong> I set up our equipment to record echolocation calls <strong>and</strong> thermal videos.<br />
Once it is all ready, we turn <strong>of</strong>f our headlamps <strong>and</strong> wait patiently in the darkness ready for<br />
the <strong>bats</strong> to arrive. We don’t know how long we can bear the biting, but we hold fast, hoping<br />
that we will be in luck tonight. I stare at a dark blue screen on my laptop – the faint thermal<br />
image <strong>of</strong> the cave is motionless <strong>and</strong> cold. For some time, all we can hear is the s<strong>of</strong>t rustling <strong>of</strong><br />
the trees around us <strong>and</strong> the occasional loud buzz <strong>of</strong> a mosquito. Then finally they come - a<br />
h<strong>and</strong>ful <strong>of</strong> little brown <strong>bats</strong> (Myotis lucifugus) flutter <strong>and</strong> swerve past us into the entrance <strong>of</strong><br />
the mine. Three glowing golden-red orbs with pale blue wings whizz past on my dark blue<br />
screen – I hit record <strong>and</strong> I really, really hope I caught that one on file! In years past there<br />
would have been hoards <strong>of</strong> them here – but we are happy to see the h<strong>and</strong>ful <strong>of</strong> <strong>bats</strong> that fly<br />
into the cave. We know, if the models are correct, they may be among the last <strong>of</strong> their kind.<br />
We are here to record so late because this is a night roost – a stopover point after the <strong>bats</strong> first<br />
bout <strong>of</strong> hunting - where they digest for a while <strong>and</strong> then move on to continue foraging before<br />
heading back to their day roosts. Ontario looks like bat heaven – huge lakes, thick forests <strong>and</strong><br />
lots <strong>and</strong> lots <strong>of</strong> insects! Yet I hear more <strong>and</strong> more reports from friends <strong>and</strong> colleagues <strong>of</strong> how<br />
few <strong>bats</strong> they have seen this year. It’s worrying, <strong>and</strong> I know it’s more than just me that is<br />
worrying about them. White-nose syndrome has hit hard here – the fungus Geomyces<br />
destructans is killing <strong>bats</strong> across North America at an unprecedented rate. Scientists here are<br />
frantically searching for a solution – but most fear that it is spreading so fast it may well be<br />
too late to save the little brown bat.<br />
8<br />
Kayleigh Fawcett<br />
Highly commended<br />
Bats Abroad
Drama at Dawn<br />
The Georgian mansion, set in rural Pembrokeshire, was the impressive setting for an<br />
astounding experience with <strong>bats</strong>. The area was beautiful, comprising gentle countryside <strong>and</strong><br />
farml<strong>and</strong> interspersed with pockets <strong>of</strong> mixed woodl<strong>and</strong> - ideal habitat for <strong>bats</strong>!<br />
I was on a bat survey course with the Bat Conservation Trust. During the training we were<br />
told to take a look around a building which served as the warden’s house. At first glance there<br />
was nothing too special about the house, though we soon noticed signs that hinted at the<br />
presence <strong>of</strong> <strong>bats</strong>. We spotted an inconspicuous hole just below the ro<strong>of</strong> which was completely<br />
surrounded <strong>by</strong> droppings, a tell-tale sign <strong>of</strong> a roost.<br />
.<br />
Later that evening we counted <strong>bats</strong> emerging from the roost <strong>and</strong> discovered that the warden<br />
shared his house with a staggering five hundred Soprano Pipistrelles. Each bat emerged from<br />
the hole one-<strong>by</strong>-one in a regular, orderly fashion, allowing us a quick glimpse before flying<br />
<strong>of</strong>f into the surrounding countryside to forage for the night.<br />
The course instructor hinted that if we were to return to the spot just before dawn, we might<br />
be in for something special. So we duly set our alarm clocks, rolled out <strong>of</strong> bed, headed for the<br />
house armed with torches <strong>and</strong> bat detectors, <strong>and</strong> took our seats in anticipation<br />
.<br />
What we witnessed was far more dramatic than what we had seen the previous evening.<br />
Rather than coming out in single-file, the sky was now full with some five hundred <strong>bats</strong><br />
trying to get back into a hole that was big enough for just one or possibly two. While waiting<br />
for an opportunity to enter the roost, the <strong>bats</strong> that remained outside where swooping, swerving<br />
<strong>and</strong> diving above us, <strong>and</strong> some were making audible squeaks which were actually quite loud.<br />
I wondered how the warden managed to get any sleep!<br />
This spectacle seemed surreal <strong>and</strong> otherworldly. There was so much activity <strong>and</strong> unbounded<br />
energy in the sky just above my head that I kept wondering if I were really asleep <strong>and</strong><br />
dreaming the <strong>who</strong>le scene. My body was telling me I was awake, but my mind was struggling<br />
to absorb such a frantic vision. Other course participants <strong>who</strong> had also managed to resist the<br />
warm clutches <strong>of</strong> their beds were unusually quiet, as they too were enthralled <strong>by</strong> the theatrics<br />
on display. Of course our various bat detectors were all going berserk due to the sheer<br />
numbers <strong>of</strong> calls being made, including <strong>those</strong> <strong>of</strong> mothers encouraging their young into the<br />
roost.<br />
As the rising sun started to illuminate more <strong>of</strong> the building, we could gradually see what was<br />
actually taking place at the roost entrance. As it transpired, one or occasionally two <strong>bats</strong> at a<br />
time would head for the ro<strong>of</strong>, cling to the wall just below the entrance, <strong>and</strong> then crawl in to<br />
the narrow space they called home. This continued until finally the last Pipistrelle made its<br />
way into the gap <strong>and</strong> the roost was silent...until the next night...<br />
9<br />
Volunteering with Bats<br />
Peter Timm<br />
Category winner
Bat Conservation Trust, 5 th Floor, Quadrant House, 250 Kennington Lane, London, SE11 5RD, 0845 1300 228,<br />
enquiries@<strong>bats</strong>.org.uk<br />
Registered charity in Engl<strong>and</strong> <strong>and</strong> Wales number 1012361, Scotl<strong>and</strong> SC040116.<br />
Company limited <strong>by</strong> guarantee number 2712823