This bat was a special bat, not just because she was about to bring a new little bat into the batworld, but also because she is, what we call in Norway, a Dvergflaggermus (Common Pippistrelle). With a body length of 3-5 cm, a wingspan of less than 25cm, and weighing less than 8 grams (sometimes only 3 grams after her winter hibernation), she is Europe´s smallest bat.
She landed on the outer wall of a wooden hut, shook the drizzle from her dark golden-brown furr and crawled up towards a crack just under the hut´s roof. She had spent the night near the lake, tracking the mosquitoes that gather over the shrubland between the big oak trees. It had been a successful hunt, with a very light occasional drizzle luring tasty mosquitoes up out of their marsh and into the radious of her echolocator. It had been so easy for her on this night. The high-pitch squeak she let out echoed nicely off the fattest mosquitoes and, as the echo bounced back to her, told her where to find the most nutritious meal. It had only been a matter of diving towards the spot where the echo originated and !YUM! meal served and devoured in not much more than a second!! And lucky too because this little bat was eating for two. She had now been pregnant for almost two months and she felt more tired than usual on this night. The dawn crept closer and it was time to get some rest.
She crawled in through a 3 cm gap under the roof between the timber and the insulation. Once inside, she used the claws on her feet and the single claws on the upper bone in both wings to cling to the side of a timber beam. She sensed the comfortable presence of other bats who had also made this their home for the summer season. Cozy place for a rest. She felt safe from predators. And she soon fell into a sound sleep.
The next evening however she wasn´t feeling very hungry or energetic. She now rested on a flatter wooden surface under the beam and on top of the huts insulating layer. There was a tight feeling in her belly. The baby-bat inside her must have felt cramped for space because it was moving all about, as if attempting to stretch its living quarters. Soon the pushing moved further down and it seemed baby-bat was looking for the door! As if resisting baby-bat's urges, her tummy became even tighter. Instinct told her that there was no sense in fighting nature, this birth was meant to happen and it was meant to happen very soon. So, instinctively, she relaxed her body, and she waited.
The birth was perfect. Baby-bat came into the world almost effortlessly with a wee wiggle and without a sound. Only 2 cm long and weighing just over a gram, the tiny new born now clung to the wood directly behind it's mother. Mummy-bat turned and gently investigated her new creation. She nudged her newborn´s head with her nose and it nudged back. Satisfied with this response, she ran her nose along its leathery wing and across its back. It had a smooth hairless almost black body, but for the pink glow that shone through from deeper within. Its eyes and ears were closed, and it nodded its head ever so slighlty as if to figure out its new reality with its recently discovered sense of smell. This wonderful sensory discovery quickly lead it to its mother's breast, where it enthusiastically added the sense of taste to its unconscious list of essentially perfect discoveries.
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Baby-bat´s first night was spent snuggling up under its mothers´s wing and suckling. There were other baby bats around. These baby bats huddled together, keeping each other warm, while their mothers participated together in the evening fly-hunt.
The following night, baby-bat joined the other baby bats in their insulating huddle. Mummy-bat left for her hunt, but would return several times during the night to suckle baby-bat. Baby-bat let out a high pitch self-identifying squeak when it sensed her return. Mummy-bat listened for its unique squeak and had no problems figuring out which of the little bats was her own.
At 3 weeks, baby-bat´s eyes and ears were open and it now had enough fur to keep itself warm. Its eyesight was very poor, but this is normal for it was an insectivorous bat and would learn to depend on echolocation for a successful hunt. It crawled along the wooden beam, following its mother towards the crack in the roof. She crawled through and squeaked at it to follow. She took off in flight. Baby-bat instinctively sent out a series of high-pitch echolocating squeaks, searching for its mother. Its squeaks bounced back from the right. Baby-bat let go of its grip on the hole in the roof and tried to follow the echo. Its thinly-leathered wings flapped up and down lightning fast, like a pro. 2 meters.. 5 meters... 9 meters... and it tumbled down into the weeds below.
The cat heard the commotion in the weeds a few meters away. Something small was in distress. The cat stood still as a sculpted warrior, it´s ears raised, nose low, peering through the grass towards the rustling distress signal... patiently interpreting the information being received through its senses.
Baby-bat fumbled in the weeds, chancing upon a tree stump. It crawled up the side of the stump´s old thick bark. Its echolocation squeaks located its mother in flight a couple of meters above it. Hearing her frantic calls, baby-bat immediately responded to her sense of urgency and took off in flight towards the echo.
The cat jumped at the shadow that had just sped by above its head and up towards the starry sky... too late. The cat sat down, resumed grooming itself, and waited, apparently apathetic, for the next shadow to fall from the sky.
by JF Powell
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