Catch That Bat! (5 page)

‘We’re continually worried about these bats,’ said Terry. ‘You see, they’re Rodrigues Fruit Bats. From Mauritius, near India. And they’re critically endangered – only a couple of hundred are left in the wild.’

‘A couple of hundred? That’s all?’ Sophie said.

‘I know,’ said Terry. ‘I sometimes wonder what that must feel like. Imagine if there were only two hundred human beings left on the whole planet. It’d be pretty lonely, eh?’

Tom and Sophie thought about this and nodded.

‘And knowing my luck,’ added Tom, ‘it would just be me and 199 girls. Or me and 199
teachers.
’

‘I don’t think it works like that,’ said Sophie.

‘It flippin’ would for me,’ said Tom.

‘A lot of their natural habitat has gone,’ said Terry, gazing at the enclosure, ‘and global warming isn’t helping either. It’s lucky we got involved when we did. Hopefully we can save the species.’

‘Maybe being a megabat isn’t so good after all,’ Tom said.

‘Oh, it’s still pretty good,’ said Terry. ‘Though, I have to say, if I could choose, I’d probably be a microbat.’

‘How come?’ Sophie asked.

‘Isn’t it better to be bigger?’ Tom said.

‘Maybe,’ said Terry, ‘but for me the most amazing thing about bats is echolocation. And those bats in there can’t echolocate. Hardly any megabats can.’

‘I’ve read about that,’ Sophie said. ‘It’s something to do with finding your way around using squeaks.’

Terry nodded. ‘As you know, bats are nocturnal, which means they can’t rely on sunlight to help them see. Now, if you’re a fruit bat –’ he nodded at the bats in the enclosure – ‘you’ll mainly use your sense of smell to work out where you are. But microbats, like the ones we saw in the Nightzone, are different. They rely on hearing. When they’re flying, they make a high-pitched squeaking noise. This noise will bounce off anything in the surrounding area. Maybe a tree trunk. Maybe a moth. The bats’ large ears hear the noise bouncing back. From the speed and volume of the echo, they work out where the object is.’

‘That’s amazing!’ said Tom.

‘I know,’ said Terry, ‘but that’s not all. Then they squeak again. The noise rebounds again. Now they have two pieces of information. They can work out whether the object is big or small, whether it’s moving or standing still. They squeak again and get another update. As they get closer and closer to the object, they squeak more and more, continually getting more data. Then finally they catch the moth or dodge the tree or land in the cave.’

‘That’s incredible!’ said Sophie.

‘Exactly,’ said Terry. ‘Pretty amazing. And think about what they’re actually doing. They’re putting together a 3D map of the world around them. Using nothing but sound waves. And changing it every millisecond.
While they’re moving
.’

Tom and Sophie let this information sink in.

‘Looks like we’ve got a new favourite animal,’ Sophie said.

Tom nodded. ‘Now I understand why Batman wanted to dress up as a bat. Spiderman and Catwoman got it all wrong.’

At that moment, Polly the bat sprang off her perch, fluttered across the enclosure and landed on the feeding station. Terry smiled. ‘She’s OK. All is well,’ he said.

He walked towards the exit, with Tom and Sophie following him. As he opened the door to leave, Mrs Nightingale stepped in through it.

‘Ah, Terry, glad you’re here,’ she said. ‘We need your help at the hospital.’

She peered over Terry’s shoulder.

‘Hello, you two,’ she said. ‘What’s your favourite nocturnal animal so far?’

‘Well, generally speaking, bats,’ said Sophie.

‘But we can’t decide between these fruit bats and the Seba’s Short-tailed Bats,’ said Tom. ‘There are so many differences between microbats and megabats and some of them –’

‘OK, OK, I get it,’ said Mrs Nightingale. ‘You like bats. You can tell me more later. Right now, I need to borrow Terry.’

Terry smiled. ‘See you soon, you two. Maybe next weekend?’

‘Tomorrow,’ Tom and Sophie said in unison.

‘Same time, same place,’ Sophie added.

Chapter 5

That evening, Tom and Sophie walked back to
The
Ark
with their parents. They were talking mostly about bats, but also discussing scorpions, naked mole rats, pottos, lorises and armadillos.

‘Can we go out on the canal bank tonight?’ Sophie asked her mum.

‘Yeah, we want to try to spot more nocturnal animals,’ said Tom.

‘OK, but you stay inside the marina,’ said Mrs Nightingale.

‘If you want to do any bat-spotting further along the canal, you come and get one of us,’ said Mr Nightingale.

‘What do you mean, “bat-spotting”?’ Sophie asked.

‘Well, I thought you said you were going out looking for nocturnal animals?’ Mr Nightingale said.

‘Yeah, but we were thinking foxes, badgers and mice,’ said Sophie.

‘We didn’t realise there were any bats on our part of the canal,’ said Tom.

‘Now you’ve done it,’ sighed Mrs Nightingale.

‘So there are real bats – actually living here near our boat?’ Sophie asked.

‘Loads,’ said Mr Nightingale. ‘Daubenton’s and Common Pipistrelles mainly. But maybe others. They feed on the midges you see hovering above the water, and live in the trees nearby.’

‘Great, we can use the night-vision goggles to watch them in action,’ said Tom.

‘Sorry, Tom,’ said Mr Nightingale, ‘those goggles actually belonged to the zoo and I had to give them back. Tell you what, if you really want to see some bats, ask your grandad. He’s photographed loads of nocturnal animals in his time. He knows all kinds of tricks.’

Tom and Sophie wolfed down their dinner. As they ate, Sophie flicked through
The
Junior Bat Spotter’s Guide
and Tom skim-read
The Big Book of British Bats
.

They glugged down their water, piled into their coats and ran along the towpath to Grandad’s boat.

Grandad listened to them carefully as they rattled through their plan for the evening.

‘Excellent idea,’ he said. ‘Now, there are all kinds of ways of spotting animals at night, but the best thing is to use a specially adapted torch. Come with me.’

He walked along the narrow corridor that ran the length of his houseboat, stopping at a small cupboard door. Then he opened it and beckoned Tom and Sophie to follow him inside.

‘What’s this, Grandad?’ Tom asked. ‘A secret portal to another world?’

‘Something like that,’ Grandad replied.

They found themselves in a small dark room with no windows, and a shelf of strange-looking liquids in plastic bottles. There was a sink in one corner and two washing lines attached to the ceiling. The washing lines had photographs of animals hanging from them.

‘This is my darkroom,’ Grandad said. I use it to develop my own photos. I use the chemicals you can see in those bottles.’

‘I knew you liked taking photos, but this is crazy,’ said Tom.

‘So why does it need to be dark, Grandad?’ Sophie asked.

‘Because when you develop photos taken on an old-fashioned camera, it must be totally pitch black,’ said Grandad. ‘Any light spoils the film and makes the whole photo completely white. Which is why . . .’

Grandad closed the door.

The room was totally dark. There wasn’t a hint of light from anywhere.

‘Wow,’ whispered Sophie.

Tom held his hand in front of his face but couldn’t even see the outline.

Then a small lamp came on in the corner of the room. It gave off a faint red glow.

‘This is my safe light,’ said Grandad. ‘It has a special red filter over it. It means I can see what I’m doing, but it stops the light from damaging the film.’

He opened a drawer and took out two torches.

‘These torches have the same kind of filter on them. They’ll help you to see in the dark.’

He handed one torch to Tom and the other to Sophie.

‘But why don’t we just use normal torches?’ Tom asked.

‘Because bats are a bit like the film in my camera,’ said Grandad. ‘They don’t like bright light. If you use normal torches, they’ll be frightened away.’

‘Cool,’ said Tom, flicking his torch on and off.

‘Are you coming with us, Grandad?’ Sophie asked.

‘No, no,’ said Grandad, shaking his head. ‘Bat-watching is a young man’s game. Or a young lady’s, of course. But stop by on your way back – I want to hear all about it.’

‘OK, Grandad,’ said Tom, heading towards the door.

‘Thanks,’ said Sophie, following Tom out.

As they ran along the canal, Tom and Sophie chatted about their grandad’s darkroom.

‘Do you think Mum and Dad would get one of those in our houseboat?’ Tom asked.

‘What for?’ Sophie replied. ‘None of us are really into photography.’

‘No, I mean for us,’ Tom said. ‘We love nocturnal animals, right? And we’re going to be spending a lot of time looking for them, right? So we need to get used to the dark.’

Sophie shrugged. ‘Maybe. But I think just being out on the canal is the best training. I can already feel my eyes adjusting.’

Tom said, ‘Me too. I can basically see everything.’

He nearly tripped over a paving stone, but quickly recovered his footing as if it hadn’t happened.

They had reached a quiet section of the towpath, just on the edge of the marina. They crouched down and shone their torches on to the water and up into the trees behind them.

‘If Mum and Dad let me,’ Tom whispered, ‘I’d like to become properly nocturnal. You know – sleep during the day.’

‘Tom,’ Sophie said, ‘they’re not going to let you. What about school?’

‘Didn’t Dad go to night school?’ Tom said. ‘I’ll just do that instead.’

‘Yeah, I suppose,’ Sophie said.

A few seconds later, they heard distant fluttering and squeaking. They shone their torches towards the sound.

‘I can’t believe there are bats right here and we didn’t even know about it,’ Tom said quietly.