There\u2019s something about seeing a bat that makes you shout \u201cbat!\u201d It\u2019s the only way to greet one \u2013 on summer nights around the campfire, waiting for the first to start flitting around the treetops, or in autumn, as the nights draw in, and you see them at teatime. \u201cBat!\u201d you say to whoever you\u2019re with, or the dog, or yourself. \u201cBat!\u201d<\/p>\n
I love bats. In the UK we have 18 species<\/a>, though only 17 are known to be breeding (the 18th is the greater mouse-eared bat<\/a>, of which there are only two known individuals in the UK). When I lived in London I\u2019d often take part in bat surveys along the Thames in Richmond, walking along a street-lit section of the towpath and then an unlit section, to study the effects of light pollution on foraging behaviour.<\/p>\n Working in pairs, members of the group would set bat detectors to a certain frequency so we could record the echolocations of a specific species. The lit section always had more common pipistrelles, which have adapted to eating the moths and other insects that gather around streetlamps, but the darker sections were where the more exciting bats were, including the noctule, Leisler\u2019s and serotine. I liked being on noctule duty best, because its echolocation \u2018shouts\u2019 resembled a loud clip-clop through the bat detector.<\/p>\n When I moved to Sussex I helped an ecologist conduct bat surveys at people\u2019s homes. While most of these were related to planning permission (all bat species are protected by both national and European legislation, so surveys of or near known roosts are required prior to building work), some were for homeowners who just wanted to know how their bats were doing. I loved these particular surveys, and I\u2019d stand in gardens counting bats as they emerged from holes in roofs, thinking how lucky both homeowners and bats were.<\/p>\n On one such survey, I was recording bats in a small wooded area. A brown long-eared bat \u2013 known for the ghost-like whisper its echolocation<\/a> shouts make through the bat detector \u2013 caught a mosquito hovering just in front of my face. Experiencing that in the woods, in the dark, surrounded by ghostly sounds was a magical but terrifying adventure that I\u2019ll never forget.<\/p>\n And yet, most legends about bats focus on the terrifying over the magical. All over the world, bats are associated with darkness and death<\/a>, Halloween and vampires, their liminal bodies seen as half-animal, half-bird, and thought to be able to cross from here into the underworld.<\/p>\n Then there are actual vampire bats<\/a>, which add to the mammals\u2019 mysterious and not-to-be-trusted nature. Native to the Americas, they don\u2019t actually suck blood, rather lap it up from open wounds, usually from livestock. In recent times, of course, bats have been blamed for Covid.<\/p>\n Yet bats play a significant role in ecosystems<\/a> around the world. In the tropics, some plants rely on bats for pollination or seed dispersal, while others \u2013 including all British species \u2013 feed on insects<\/a>, helping to keep populations under control. The 2017 State of the UK\u2019s Bats report suggests populations of many bat species are stabilising or even increasing, reflecting decades of full protection. But as insect eaters they remain vulnerable to biodiversity loss, while climate change adds further pressure, potentially pushing them out of suitable habitats.<\/p>\n