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Bats at large, unseasonably, on a mild winter afternoon Bats at large, unseasonably, on a mild winter afternoon
(6 months later)
In the woods at the end of a sunlit afternoon, clouds of gnats swirled in slant shafts of light filtering through bare oak branches. The temperature held unseasonably mild even as the sun poured itself like melting wax behind the western peninsula.In the woods at the end of a sunlit afternoon, clouds of gnats swirled in slant shafts of light filtering through bare oak branches. The temperature held unseasonably mild even as the sun poured itself like melting wax behind the western peninsula.
I was aware of the presence before I saw it. It fluttered erratically into view on rounded wings, quartered several times the space the gnats inhabited, and flickered away in a mayhem of fractured movement and felt sound. A bat. Probably a lesser horseshoe bat, from its small size and those rounded wings, though identification of bat species in flight is notoriously difficult – especially in the dim light of winter gloaming.I was aware of the presence before I saw it. It fluttered erratically into view on rounded wings, quartered several times the space the gnats inhabited, and flickered away in a mayhem of fractured movement and felt sound. A bat. Probably a lesser horseshoe bat, from its small size and those rounded wings, though identification of bat species in flight is notoriously difficult – especially in the dim light of winter gloaming.
The mere fact of its presence was a mystery. Nature increasingly breaks the rules of our observation. This bat, in our statute book, shouldn’t have been on the wing until, at earliest, the end of March. Yet with February scarcely out, here it was in all its miraculously evolved, insect-devouring glory.The mere fact of its presence was a mystery. Nature increasingly breaks the rules of our observation. This bat, in our statute book, shouldn’t have been on the wing until, at earliest, the end of March. Yet with February scarcely out, here it was in all its miraculously evolved, insect-devouring glory.
Related: Under the graveyard sleep the bats
Earlier, I’d seen its likely roost in an old mine adit, had peered in and, by such faint light as penetrated there, as my eyes grew accustomed had noticed what looked like dark fruit suspended from roof and wall. Fifty years ago, in a Clydach Gorge cave, I found a hibernating colony of greater horseshoe bats hanging from phreatic seams. I’d reached out to touch them, marvelling at the softness of their fur, at how perfectly they were wrapped into little packages insulated by interlocking wings and tail.Earlier, I’d seen its likely roost in an old mine adit, had peered in and, by such faint light as penetrated there, as my eyes grew accustomed had noticed what looked like dark fruit suspended from roof and wall. Fifty years ago, in a Clydach Gorge cave, I found a hibernating colony of greater horseshoe bats hanging from phreatic seams. I’d reached out to touch them, marvelling at the softness of their fur, at how perfectly they were wrapped into little packages insulated by interlocking wings and tail.
Shakespeare’s Titania wrote of “their leathern wings/ To make my small elves coats”. They’re not leathery at all, more like the finest velvet.Shakespeare’s Titania wrote of “their leathern wings/ To make my small elves coats”. They’re not leathery at all, more like the finest velvet.
I remember a cat of mine careering around on her hind legs on a June dusk, plucking one from the air, presenting it to me unharmed – an exquisite little creature poised for a moment on my hand that then, as no other mammal can, took to the summer air, in which, unlike this wintry wood, it truly belongs.I remember a cat of mine careering around on her hind legs on a June dusk, plucking one from the air, presenting it to me unharmed – an exquisite little creature poised for a moment on my hand that then, as no other mammal can, took to the summer air, in which, unlike this wintry wood, it truly belongs.
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