I Promise I'm Not Batty

I'm really tired and sad of seeing people who are afraid of bats.  I'm not trying to say that someone else's fear isn't legitimate, especially considering that I'm the one over here that has issues with touching raw meat.  But time and time again bats have been labeled bad news by people who don't know them very well, and it makes me too sad for words.  So let's get to it, and see how bats aren't what most people think they are, and maybe by the end you'll think they're as cool as I think they are.

 

Let's start with the misconceptions:

1) Bats will swoop and attack people.

Nope.  I think this myth comes from a combination of movies and real life experiences.  You've seen those movies where a colony of bats comes swooping through a cave to harass a group of people only to get stuck in someone's hair.  Bats don't do that.  When bats are feeding they use a swooping-down motion.  They like the insects your outdoor lights can attract, so if you're standing by an outdoor light at night, it's possible you might see a bat swoop down for a tasty treat, one that doesn't include you.

2) Bats have rabies.

Bats are mammals, and all mammals have the possibility of getting rabies, including your cute little kitty cat.  But this doesn't mean that all bats have rabies and are out to get you.  In fact, less that .5% of bats have rabies.  As one article puts it , "You stand a better chance of being hit by lightning or winning the state lottery than you do of being bitten by a bat with rabies."

3) Bat's drink blood. (Yeah, some people still think this.)

This one is a popular generalization that is only partly true.  Nearly all bats claim insects and/or fruit as their diet staples.  Only one species of bat survives on blood, and that is the vampire bat.  But guess what?  You're only going to encounter this species if you go out at night in Central or South America.  Besides, they're more likely to feed on other animals than you.

 

Bats are pretty amazing, and they're far more likely to be helpful than harmful.  Besides the amazing fact that they are the only flying mammal, they can eat from 600 to 1000 bugs in only one hour.  That includes those pesky mosquitoes that eat you alive, and even bugs that hinder farmers from growing the food you eat.

Bats are also not blind, they merely have poor eyesight.  That's the reason for their beyond cool echolocation system in which they send out high frequency sounds that bounce off of objects.  This lets them know how big something is and what shape it is.  Bats are even better than our own radars: they can "detect something as fine as human hair in total darkness."

I've even had my own amazing experience with bats when I got to see a huge colony of Mexican free-tailed bats fly from Carlsbad Caverns for their dinner a few years ago.  I even wrote an essay about it later because it affected me so much.  It's basically the only reason I would ever go back to New Mexico.  I'll leave you with the essay and this: "Often, people who've never seen a bat automatically react poorly when they are mentioned. The constant negative deluge hurts them. In China, bats are held in high esteem and are considered omens of good luck and happiness. The word for bat means happiness and good luck in Chinese." - Traci Wethington, endangered species biologist for the Kentucky Department of Fish and Wildlife Resources




 Exodus
 
    I was not happy.  The hot dogs and the beans were okay, but the bugs that feasted alongside us weren’t.  And don’t get me started on the petting zoo fifty feet away.  “Visit New Mexico!” I thought in my head, “ Where you can eat hot dogs in the desert as you breath in the deep aroma of goat crap.”  I was relieved to get in the tent.
    The next day wasn’t much better.  Lack of a tree line set the sun fully in the sky and you couldn’t even close your eyes to escape it.  The only place to retreat was a man made establishment or one of the few hulking trees that had attached themselves like parasites to the banks of the nearby Pecos River.  Or, as many of us naïve tourists did, you can drive a few miles out of town through the dust to a little park on top of a perfectly situated hill.  As you drive around this twisting knoll in the middle of the desert you might think that any second you will surely dead end in a mass of cactus.  I assure you that it’s not so, but I pity the person whose car goes toppling down the hillside.
    Once we reached the top of the hill and found a parking spot between Washington B562IA and Iowa 89A225 we found ourselves sprinting across the sizzling asphalt to seek refuge in the visitor center.  We paid our surprisingly low ticket fees and shuffled along to wait for an elevator.  In all my life I have never seen such elevators.  These dimly lit metal boxes gave me the feeling that I was descending into some secret government facility, and I might not come back out.  The windows on either side held an unwavering one foot view of solid rock.
    Once we entered the chamber below, the mood changed completely.  Cool damp air washed over our skin and filled our lungs, inviting us into the shadowy recesses of its chambers.  We had stepped into another world altogether, where the earth moved itself into a multitude of rippling and creviced formations. I could only stare in wonder and utter, “Holy crap” in a whispered tone.
    When the initial shock does wear off, the first thing you want to do is yell something undeterminable at the top of your lungs. You just can’t help it. To hear the echo almost makes your skin crawl with goose bumps. As you continue walking on you can sometimes hear the faint echo of a voice as someone wonders over a great rippling column. Then you might think twice and swear that you are hearing things. The feeling never goes away.
    We continued on our way, taking fuzzy pictures with our cameras and christening the formations with our own names as we went. When we happened upon other people it was very interesting to hear their comments. At one point, as we stood with our heads leaning into a small domed room, a man behind us exclaimed, “That looks like the inside of my microwave!” I could only hope that he was planning to clean it out. Once we had finished our tour it was back out into the searing heat of the desert to eat lunch and pass the rest of the day.
    As the sun came to meet the horizon, we ventured once more to the park, hoping that our visit here was worth the heat we had endured during the day. We walked silently down the sloping path toward the natural cavern entrance listening to the people talk all around us. Once we came to the amphitheater the crowd thinned out as people found their seats, waiting and chatting away about their experiences below. We sat and waited and hoped with them, and soon we were rewarded. At around eight o’clock we began to hear a faint high-pitched screeching noise echoing from the dark pit before us. As it grew louder, the crowd became silent, and everyone peered into the blackness holding their breath.
    In a fury of noise, they surged up from the ground. They circled higher and higher, a vortex of little bodies and beating wings. They rose until they flooded the sky and set off on their nightly journey across the desert. For nearly an hour they emerged from below and took to the sky and we sat in awed silence and stared up at these magnificent and misunderstood creatures. It was then that I knew it was worth it to be here at this moment, to see something genuinely beautiful. It is at night when this place truly comes alive. And the bats are the masters of this night, racing across the desert through the starlit skies over New Mexico. 



Misconceptions About Bats