Why Bats?
Bats have the unfortunate distinction of being feared and beloved at the same time, depending on the month. In October, they're everywhere—silhouettes on porch flags, paper cutouts in windows, shorthand for spooky. By November, they've mostly disappeared again, filed back under "creature best not thought about too closely."
I'd like to make the case for thinking about them the other eleven months, too.
An animal doing its best.
On summer evenings, insect-eating bats are quietly hunting mosquitoes, moths, beetles, and agricultural pests overhead. Across a season, that appetite adds up to a remarkable amount of natural pest control. Elsewhere in the world, bats pollinate plants and spread seeds—including plants connected to foods like bananas, cacao, and agave. Yes, bats have a hand in both chocolate and tequila, which is usually worth mentioning. In fact, a summer evening is when I first noticed how prevalent they are. I grew up thinking the birds were flying to their nests in the dark...and it took being an adult and more knowledgeable about the world around me to notice that those were, in fact, not birds. My oldest daughter and I would sit on the back deck and watch them fly back and forth across our yard. It was fascinating and a fond memory of her childhood.
And the hand is surprisingly literal. Their scientific order, Chiroptera, means "hand-wing." A bat's wing is built around elongated finger bones with a thin, flexible membrane stretched between them. They're the only mammals capable of true sustained flight—not gliding, but actually flying.
Even that strange looping flight at dusk has a purpose. Many bats are echolocating as they hunt, sending out sounds beyond our hearing and listening for the echoes. As they close in on an insect, those calls speed up into what's known as a feeding buzz.
That shadow darting past the porch light is doing something far more extraordinary than it first appears.
They're one of the overlooked ones I most enjoy featuring in my shop. Bats joined my lineup of overlooked creatures immediately: somewhere along the way, society gave them a reputation they didn't entirely earn.
Strip away the Halloween decorations, fangs, and old folklore and look at one the way an old naturalist might have. Carefully, curiously, with a little reverence—and the view shifts. It becomes a small, strange mammal with wings made from hands, navigating the darkness by sound and doing quiet work along the edges of the evening.
For the ones who notice these things.
Next time you're outside as the light fades and something begins looping overhead in that unmistakably un-birdlike way, look up instead of ducking.
There's a whole nighttime world beginning its day while ours is winding down.
And for a few seconds, you get to watch it happen.
Bats have earned better than a shudder.
A second look will do.
— Lark Meadow Co.