An ecology placement year in photos

I’ve spent the last 14 months on a work placement with an ecological consultancy which became a full time job for a while. Now I’m back at uni for year but I still do some bits and bobs for the company.  I had an excellent time.  I’m a compulsive photo taker. Here are some of the photos I took between July 2013 and and yesterday…

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Green veined white

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Butterfly wings

#ManchesterPiccadilly #train #Manchester

No way

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Fumatory

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On the wall of the hotel...

Dawn bat survey in Cumbria #PAASvy

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Annual Meadow Grass. Crimped leaf.

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Weird stuff you find on a shelf at work

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The many wallpapers at tonights bat survey

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#Manchester #NorthernQuarter

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Your friendly neighbourhood work placement guy

#Stockport #rain #train #sunrise

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#BarnOwl pellets

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#skull ID test

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Out looking for #bluebells today

#BadgerPoo

#HauntedTree #haunted #Derbyshire

Character building views from the train this morning #PeakDisrict

#snow on the #snowdrops in #Buxton

"the next stop will be duvoles, duvoles will be the next station stop" #PeakDisrict #Derbyshire

My day.

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#Speedwell

There be #badgers

Hello spring!

#Cheshire #spring #daffodils #botany #flowers

People from the #80s love a sun roof

Look at this hansom chap  #GreatCrestedNewt

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It's a trap!

I saw an #adder !

Water scorpion

#GreatCrestedNewt #GCN #Newt #Cheshire

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#Borage poofs out in #Lincolnshire

#SpeckledWood #butterfly #Lincolnshire

#cowslips #botany #Lincolnshire

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#shadow

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No more potatoes...

The help on tonights newt survey

A fist full of cresties...  #GCN #GreatCrestedNewt #Newt #ecology

Coventry 08/14

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Caught a very photogenic lizard today

Short-tailed field #vole

Never seen one of these before, what an absolute beauty! #WaspSpider #Spider

#LeighOnSea #NoFilter

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#CommonDarter #Dragonfly

#Lizard #finger

Having a nice bask  #lizard

#Lizard

This one got away the other day but i caught it today. Really distinctive green scales on this common #lizard

Here you go @stephensimons :) #adder

#Lizard o'clock

Probably the most photogenic #adder in the world.  #snake #reptile

Another #lizard pic

#Lizard

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Just a man on his own in the woods with nothing but a hard hat, a watering can and an overwhelming sense of badassery.

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The assassin cleaning her sword... #mosquito #Canvey

#badger #Essex

Catch of the day. She's very pregnant and will new pop them out in the mitigation site rather than the development site. Good feeling!

Mornin #newt

Presumably that's the crest forming along this #SmoothNewt 's back

#autumn #fog

#GreatCrestedNewt #GCN #Newt

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Best bit of the job, releasing the beasts into the mitigation site...

#GreatCrestedNewt #hibernacular #translocation #Cheshire

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Bat hibernation survey – Pooles Cavern

It’s hibernation season, the time when some bat workers get to go and share, hone or acquire the skills required to spot and ID a bat in a hibernation roost, and collect valuable data for the local bat group records. As you’ll know if you read my recent blog on my experience with South Lancashire Bat Group, it’s far from straight forward and more like something you work on over years than simply learn to do.

That survey had a mix of Whiskered Brandt’s and Daubenton’s. Very useful as they look so similar. I came away from it with a rare air of something like confidence in bat ID.

So I was excited to find out that I was to get the chance to go out on a mini hibernation survey with one of our licensed bat workers here on my work placement. Helen surveys the site at near by Pools Cavern and arranged to take me and a couple of others there one lunch time recently.

I hadn’t heard of Pooles Cavern. It sounds big at first but I knew the visit was to be a relatively short one in comparison to the day spent scrabbling around in the Lancashire mudstone caves so my mind painted a picture of a short, over-hanging rock face next to a road.

My lazy brain always places things right on the edge of a road. On an excursion with some work friends to try and see red deer rutting my subconscious uttered a familiar “Oh right!” as it discovered we were going to have to walk to see the deer and that they would not in fact be rutting in a field next to a car park.

Turns out Pool’s Cavern is a full on show cave. The Wooky Hole of Derbyshire. This happens occasionally with my not being from here, I haven’t heard of any of the famous local places so someone will say “do you fancy coming along on this job to Chatsworth” and I’ll say yes expecting another farm or brown-field site and suddenly there’s a giant country house in front of me with grounds and nobility and everything!

We surveyed a section of the caves. Helen, Tom, Becky, Andy and me. It was good fun, there weren’t many other people there and the caves are a magnificent site, especially when you weren’t expecting it.

We found 7 bats. I say we, none for me. Most were spotted by Tom who clearly has a good eye for it. I can’t decided whether I’m just not good at spotting them in their hibernacula or whether I’d find more if I asserted myself more in getting to have first look at more of the area we’re surveying. I do tend to linger at the back of the line a bit. I’m also seriously considering getting my eyes tested as when others do find them there are times when they’re a little too far away for me to make out the ID features.

But enough excuses…

The group found 7 bats. They were all Natterer’s apart from one brown long-eared and one Daubenton’s.

Here is the best picture of the day. Taken by Andy on his phone. Further proof of how awesome camera phones are these days. This is of the Daubenton’s hanging conveniently in arms reach for this beautiful shot…

Natterers Bat Andy Keen

Now as great as it was seeing this and the Natterer’s (my first experience seeing Natterer’s in the flesh) it took the confidence I’d gained in separating Daubenton’s and Whiskered Brandt’s and turned it on its head. Adding this 3rd Myotis species to the mix upped the game of ID from medium to hard. Like the other two is has pale belly fur and like the Daubenton’s the pinkness of its face is an ID feature. It’s also a similar size to the Daubenton’s. Here are the ID features (courtesy of Steve from South Lancs group following an email conversation about the bat in the photo):

Thick fleshy ears
Ears too short for Natterer’s
Ears curled back – behaviour of a disturbed bat, and a trait of Daub’s (we saw it a lot with captive/rehab Daub’s)
Ears dark in colour, Natterer’s are always pinky
Fur – medium shagginess, Natterer’s would be smoother
Greyish dorsal fur, indicative of juvenile – Natterer’s are more pale brown. (on W/B its very shaggy, and usually dark the base and golden or lighter tips- often visible as the fur is shaggy.)
On the pic there is a small bit of ventral fur above the wing, but not enough. Natterer’s bats have white ventral fur just above the forearm, between the pro-potagium and wrist
No white crescent of fur behind the ears
No reddish forearm (although it is in shadow, I can see its brown, but not dark enough for W/B)
As I write this I notice that the three/four species in question are lined up on the BCT poster by my desk. A reminder that bat ID isn’t supposed to be easy…

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…but that’s part of the fun.

Bat Hibernation Survey – South Lancashire Bat Group

All week the weather forecasts had ended with a comment about a wet and windy Sunday. Wet and windy: Two words that you don’t want to hear associated with a day you plan to spend outside or in a cave.

This time last year it was cold and dry and still. The survey then had been physically challenging, heaving yourself in and out and around unusually shaped and composed environments. My arms and legs had got tired in new ways. I hadn’t taken quite enough food to stay at the optimum level of cheerful for the whole day. But it had been great and I had been looking forward to doing it again this year.

The hibernations are a treat because they come at a time when you haven’t seen any bats for a while. In our group you get invited to attend one if you have been particularly active in the group that year and if there is space in the limited number that these surveys are suitable for. So if you get an invite, you want to go, wet and windy or not.

I kitted myself up. Sunday was my first outing in my new thermal underwear. Like a secret mime artist I thermalled up, then wore a t-shirt, trousers, a fleece, waterproof trousers and a fat, high-viz waterproof jacket. I had woolly gloves and waterproof gardening gloves over the top. I had spare gloves, spare hoodie, spare long sleeved top, spare jumper. I had hiking boots and wellies, and a cag.

What would later occur to me was that wet days tend to be warmer than dry winter days and I would spend some time either being way to hot, or faffing about in the dark trying to get rid of a layer or two.

Baptiste picked me up at 09:30 in his Ford KA. Ever notice how many ecologists/conservationists drive Ford KAs? We picked up Andrea from Salford Quays and drove through the morning rain to the first site near Chorley.

As we drove up the narrow country path to the meeting point, a large 4-wheel drive met us coming the other way and refused to pull over and let us pass. So Baptiste had to carefully reverse his KA back down the length of the path. The driver of the other car said thanks on his way past as though we’d had a choice.

There were 8 of us on the survey: Steve, Fi, John, Brian, Leanne, Andrea, Baptiste and me. We suited up and strode off into the woods to the remains of some industrial buildings that have been a hibernation roost for many recorded years.

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The woodland was soaked with rain and rich in mosses and broom everywhere you looked, all taking advantage of the nutrients and growing on top of one another. Even the buildings we surveyed had stands of saplings growing from their roofs like bad hair.

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We split up into two groups. My group took the main building, gated off to protect the hibernating bats from inquisitive people. It was wet inside too, the rain finding its way through the old stones and dripping down our necks and in our eyes as we peered into every crack and crevice.

The technique for finding a hibernating bat comes more from practice than anything. You shine your torch into a space and peer in. You move the torch to illuminate the space from all angles and you try to focus and unfocus your eyes to take in every detail of what generally all looks like variations of the surface of whatever the structure is made of.

It’s hard. When you’re first shown a bat in these circumstances you may struggle to see it at all. “Look at the back past the sticking out bit of stone” someone will say. You can’t see it. “Move your head up a bit, you need to get right in as far as you can. See it now?” You still can’t. You don’t believe there is a bat in there. Someone else has a go and they see it. You try again. After a while you see it. A bit of leg and a slither of fur, 6ft away in a dark crack that you seem unable to keep your torch light on for more than a split second. “I see it!” You say. “Great!” They say. “So what do you think it is?”

The idea that you could ID a bat in those circumstances seems ridiculous at that point. You suspect they’re taking the piss. But they aren’t. What you discover is that if you over come the overwhelming appearance that it wouldn’t be possible to ID the bat, and think instead of the ID features (fur colour and shagginess, face colour and shape, ear shape and texture etc) you can make positive IDs to species in these conditions.

There were no hibernating bats in this building, or in the other structures that the other half of the team were checking. There were however, as I stuck my head up a hole and wriggled round to investigate a space with my torch, several herald moths and loads of mosquitoes which began dancing excitedly as they sensed the CO2 in my breath.

#herald #moth

But no bats. Not even in Simon’s Crack (there is a tradition in the group of name the locations of first bat finds after the person who found them), a rare and disappointing result. But our fortunes would improve later…

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We squelched back through the woods to the cars. The stream near by was hurling up water over the rapids. Quick snack then back on the road. The drive to the second site at Edgeworth, over undulating roads, through the pouring rain was a soporific one and I watched rivers of water running in the gutters on the road side as we drove. One drain had rain water fountaining up out of it.

It made me think of the SuDS (Sustainable Drainage Systems) training session I’d had at work on Thursday and I tried to imagine what mitigation you could put into place here to make more of the rain stay where it landed.

We all met up again at Edgeworth and stood eating our lunch. I had a cheese, pickle and rain sandwich and pocketed a flap jack and a bottle of squash in my giant high-vis for later. We donned our caving helmets and got our trudge on along the path to the mouth of the cave. The entrance is set in a gully that to a fan of fantasy fiction strikes you as being the perfect place for an ambush. But there were no bandits, orks or mountain trolls, justs 8 bat workers in a variety of coloured caving helmets and a mish-mash of waterproof coats and overalls.

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Last year the cave entrance had a beautiful façade of icicles hanging above it, today it was running water and we descended through a beaded curtain of water into the gloom. One look back at daylight then off we trekked into the cave.

#icicle(above: last year)

 

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The cave network is a spacious one. Not much crawling around needed here. They have clearly seen some action too. There are the remains of parties gone by in the form of spent candles, discarded beer cans the brands and colours of which you don’t recognise, and extensive graffiti which looks like its been produced with a tin of paint and a brush rather than a can. The caves themselves remind me more than anything of the 2p machines you get in arcades where you attempt to push many 2ps over the edge by inserting one 2p, creating shelves of over hanging coins. The whole cave is like a giant 3D version of this with giant square coins that teeter, dead still and silent above you in the dark, and litter the floor, the result of past jackpots.

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#Lancashire #cave

#graffiti #cave #Lancashire #advice

The piles of fallen rock shift and slide about under your feet as you scramble as carefully as you can over the mounds, mindful that nothing you see is reliably secure. Your mind wants to reach out and pluck this or that stone splinter from where it juts between layers but your inner monologue repeatedly refuses it, imagining the ruinous domino run it could initiate.

#Edgeworth #cave #Lancashire

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We began the painstaking process of investigating every crack with our torches. You get into a rhythm, moving along a wall, crouching and stretching to see in as much as possible. Occasionally you look up and see 7 other torch lights moving around in the large, dark space. It looks absurdly surreal and strangely beautiful. There’s something satisfying about being somewhere like that with a specific job to do.

As time goes on you all start to develop what I refer to in my head as drunk legs and the sound of someone landing on their bum isn’t uncommon and is always followed by: “I’m alright!” Your arms get tired too as you push yourself up or balance on a boulder.

We found 18 bats, an excellent result. There were 13 Whiskered Brandt’s and 5 Daubentons. With each bat that is found, everyone has a look and tells Steve what they think it is and why. Then he tells you what it is and why. Impressively we were all right more than we were wrong. It’s so useful having this many of these similar looking bats together. Being told a Whiskered Brandt’s has a darker face than a Daubenton’s is nothing compared to seeing one, then the other, then other etc…

Steve has a habit of acting as though you might have got it wrong when you give your answer, forcing you to be bold and confident in your ID’ing. One example was where there were two bats hanging out in the open. I identified them both as Whiskered Brandt’s and he replied: “Really? Because one looks very different to the other”. “Dammit” I thought. Other people suggested one Whiskered Brandt’s and one Daubenton. “I did think they looked different” I chastised myself. But they were, as it turns out both Whiskered Brandt’s and I smiled satisfied in the dark.

#whiskeredBrandt #myotis #bat #Lancashire #cave #hibernation

#Edgeworth #cave #Lancashire

About an hour from the end I found my first hibernating bat. I hadn’t had any firsts the last year so it was an ace moment when I saw that clawed foot and wing between the rock. You get used to seeing rocks that look like bats. There are rocks in those caves that look more like bats than the bats you’re shown. I double checked. I was sure and called Steve over. This was an especially exciting find as it took our total for the day over the existing record and we successfully high-fived (no mean feat in the dark) in celebration.

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When we left the caves it was getting dark. We retraced our steps back to the car, torch lights bobbing along in a line and headed to the local pub for a celebratory drink then home. A excellent day, a productive survey, and a fantastic lesson in Whiskered Brandt and Daubenton’s bat ID.

Audrey – Portrait of a Pipistrelle

Another Tuesday, another day on the Bat Line. Only one call, a message from someone at the Bat Conservation Trust asking for someone to call them. I dutifully returned the call and was passed the details of a member of the public in Bolton who had contacted them to say they had an injured bat. By the sounds of it the bat was in a bad way. After trying to find a member of the group local to them with no success I decided to collect the bat myself.

I’ve not long passed my driving test and the heavens opened up on me as I drove north to collect the bat. Rain so big people in other cars couldn’t see me waving sorry as I blundered my way through a couple of tricky junctions. Stacey had come with me and helped me out with decisions and fed me boiled sweets. I picked up the precious cargo and headed over to the home of one of our injured bat consultants (IBC) who helped and observed me weigh and measure the bat, ID and record the gender too. It was an adult female.

She had cat teeth shaped holes in both wings and a tear in one too. On her back was a large gash. We cleaned her with a saline wash. She weighed 3.17g. Despite her ordeal she put up an admirable resistance to inspection, displaying good teeth in the process. I ID’d the bat as a common pipistrelle and an adult. The size of the bat and shape of the snout (pointier than a soprano pip) were the key ID features. The minimum release weight for this species is 4.5g. Our IBC provided me with some rehydration fluid and some mealworms and some advice and off I went. I was to care for the bat and take her to a vet to look at the gash on her back and her left shoulder which according to our IBC felt loose.

If she was coming home with us it seemed appropriate to give her a name rather than continue to call her Injured Bat as we had been. Stacey suggested as she was my first injured bat why not choose a name starting with A? Audrey it was.

Back home I gave her some rehydration fluid from a small paintbrush. This was the first time I have ever seen a bat’s tongue…

That's more like it :)

While you enter into bat care keeping in mind that this is a wild animal, a piece of wildlife which you are minding temporarily in an attempt to get it back into nature as quickly as possible, the sight of something that small licking the end of paintbrush would melt the coldest of hearts. Your eyebrows knit reflexively in and up and your mouth opens in a silent “R”.

That night I woke up unintentionally at 3am and after lying in the dark wondering for a while I got up and crept into the spare room to check on her. She was alive and acting unsuspicious.

The next day I texted Frenchi to ask for the number of the vets she used to take her canary, Bird,  to in Chorlton. Frenchi has a baby and we shared experiences in our text conversation about finding it impossible not to go and check on our respective dependants.

I made an appointment at Ashley Vets for that evening, after confirming that they take wildlife cases. When I left work I called Stacey. Was she home yet? Could she look in on Audrey? What was she doing? Hanging upside down? Is she moving at all? Moved her head a bit? Good. When I got home the three of us headed to Chorlton.

The last time I was in a vets was in 1988 with my gerbil, Sooty. I remember feeling like I was going to cry when the vet gave her an injection. She died two days later on Christmas Day. When my dad told me she was dead I didn’t know how to react because I was eight and nothing had ever died before so I blew a raspberry at him. His reaction was one of amused and endeared bafflement.

This vet experience was very interesting. The vet explained that normally when an animal bite like this has scabbed over they would remove the scab to clean it as there will likely be bacteria underneath but that in this case due to the size of the scab and the large surface area it covers would not be advisable.

An x-ray of her shoulder showed that the muscle had been pulled away from the scapula bone. Whether this healed would determine whether she flew again. No guarantees could be given on this. Had a bone in arm been broken or her shoulder been dislocated, the kindest thing would have been to put her to sleep there and then as with an animal as small as a pipistrelle it is not possible to pop the shoulder back in or mend certain broken bones.

I assisted with the x-ray by helping to tape Audrey down to a table. This was neither cruel nor dignified as the tape comes easily off the wings afterwards. Again she made it as difficult as possible and two x-rays were taken on account of her wriggling partly free as the first was taken, resulting in a blurry image. The second image showed the muscle/scapula problem and I was asked how I wished to proceed…

Audrey

I made the decision that as she was not in obvious distress I would not euthanize her there and then and would take her home and attempt to nurse her back to release-worthy health. I discovered that it is very difficult to make decisions purely with your head and not your heart in these circumstances. Especially as vets have a habit of tagging your surname onto the name of the animal you have brought in. But she wasn’t a pet and I made sure I kept that in mind. She may very well still need to be put to sleep if the shoulder didn’t heal. She was not destined to become a pet. The whole point of this, all this effort was to try and release a wild bat back into the wild where she belonged.

Back at home Audrey ate some meal worms. This was another highly rewarding aspect of the bat care. I had never hand fed a bat before and the gusto with which she scoffed down the meal worm guts I offered her gave Stacey and I cause for optimism. By the time she’d had enough the meal worms were beginning to look quite appetising. We went and had chilli instead.

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For the next couple of days we fed her in the evenings and each day she took more meal worms than the days before. She also lapped the antibiotic dilution from the end of a syringe without any fuss. At one point while she gobbled a meal worm up Stacey asked me: “Could you have imagined you’d be doing this 6 years ago?”. It was a good question. I couldn’t have imagined it back then and it’s a nice barometer of my progress so far on my journey from one life to another.

You see people doing stuff like this on TV and wonder how they came to do it? You might even look into it and you discover that the people doing it have been involved in conservation for years and work in the field. You resign yourself to the fact you’ll never get to do that kind of thing. So it’s nice when you find yourself on the other side of the effort to get into wildlife conservation, and you’re the one looking after an injured bat, nursing it back to health.

On Saturday morning I went and bought some more supplies from Pets at Home. Before I left I noticed that Audrey was climbing around the cage. She still wasn’t opening her left wing out and when she was on the roof of the cage she let out the occasional distress sound as though her shoulder was hurting her.

In the evening we went to feed her. I’d checked earlier and she’d been in the half closed box inside the cage, the dark area there containing a soft cloth above a low watt heat mat. When I checked I’d seen her move around a little. Now in the evening I took the lid right off the box and waited a moment for her to stir. I was surprised she wasn’t already becoming active.

Sadly the moment went on. I blew gently on her to try to elicit a response but there was no movement besides that of her fur which moved in the indescribable way that the fur of a mammal recently alive but no longer, does. She’d died some time in the past few hours.

I was very disappointed. Too disappointed. I’d clearly become too attached to this little bat. I had prepared myself for the fact that she may need to be put to sleep but I hadn’t expected this. She’d been eating and drinking and taking her antibiotics. I had really wanted this to end well.

So a sad ending but by no means a waste. I’ve learned a great deal from this. Next time I will be better at not raising my hopes too high and I may not be so quick to give them a name. But I do think it’d be a pity to become too cold to the process. If there is a realistic chance they are going to make it it’d be a shame to choose pessimism just to avoid feeling hurt if they don’t.

You can’t help but project the robustness of people onto them. An air steward once told me on a flight during turbulence: “Aeroplanes want to stay in the air” and I’ve come to view people like that. Our natural response is to live, we rarely just flicker out like that. But bats aren’t people. Their physiology requires a finely tuned equilibrium which when disrupted can be fatal immediately or in the efforts to restore it which follow.

We can only do our best and hope they make it. This one didn’t but I’m wiser for it and grateful for the chance to see close up, such a charming and interesting little creature doing what appeared to be her best too.

Life on the bat line

I joined South Lancashire Bat Group two years ago today. Truth be told bats had not been a stand out interest of mine before then. I was interested in them in the same way I am about most things that fall under the umbrella of ‘nature’ but if you’d asked me to list the things I liked best they wouldn’t have come immediately to mind.

As a protected species however, they are unavoidable in the field of ecology and one of the main pieces of advice I was given by my mentor (who I met via the uni’s ‘mentor-match’ programme) Richard when we first met was to join my local bat group and get as involved as possible. After a while you may get the opportunity to work towards your bat licence with them, he said.

So I joined South Lancs Bat Group and started going along to meetings and events. Over the past two years with the group I’ve learned an interesting lesson which is that there is more than one route to acquiring a passion for something. Some stuff you’re driven to do, it’s been an interest for as long as you can remember in some form or another and it never fails to inspire you. For me that’s botany. Other things happen slowly, you work at them because you understand it’s a good idea. Then one day you notice that it’s become a hobby as well. That’s bats in my case. I didn’t have my eureka moment when I first laid eyes on a bat as some people do. For me it happened slowly…

One of the things I like most about bat work, be that the consultancy bat work I’ve been doing on my work placement or voluntary work through bat charities, is that the difficulty they provide in working with them breeds a host of interesting and unusual methods with which to counter the difficulty. They’re elusive, nocturnal, silent to the human ear and they fly. As a result studying them requires all sorts of cool kit that at times make you feel more like a Ghostbuster than an ecologist.

Entering the world of bat groups and bat work is like discovering a secret society of hackers, crackpot scientists and explorers. Except they’re perfectly sane and their methods are scientifically tested and peer-reviewed. Coordinated  gangs of people meeting in the woods at night with gadgets to hear and record the unhearable, gatherings of people in quirky function rooms on weekends to teach each other how to tell the difference between bat species, people up trees or canoeing on canals, DNA tests and night vision goggles…it’s cool even without the bats so it wasn’t hard to show up and join in.

But it’s been the bat line that has really won me over. Our group has a phone number that people in the area can call if they find a grounded or injured bat (or if they want bat-based advice).

There are people who man the bat line. This involves checking an answer phone for messages every couple of hours on your allotted day, returning the calls, answering any questions and arranging for a bat carer or roost visitor to liaise with the caller if required. Then there are the bat carers and roost visitors who are those trained to care for injured bats or those with licenses to visit roosts.

I trained to man the bat line last December and have been dealing with calls every Tuesday since. In that time I have dealt with a variety of calls from a variety of people.

One man was concerned with the tree felling taking place in his local park. He believed there may be bats roosting in the trees. Later that week I saw a picture of him in the paper, he’d climbed a tree and was refusing to come down.

A vicar called. He’d found a bat in his church and someone had helped him put it in a box. He was terrified of it. The bat in the box was making him afraid to even go into his church. He wouldn’t have liked my mum’s local crematorium. She told me a story about a funeral she’d been to there where part way through the service,  bats had begun flying around the room and then dropping to the floor around the guests. Members of staff had to creep about picking up bats and putting them in a box while the vicar did their reading.

A lady called complaining about the bats in her garden. They were swooping around her children she said. And there were lots of bat droppings on her door step. Why might that be she asked? This is a good example of the PR work required on the bat line, and one of the things that has fuelled my enthusiasm for bats. I found myself talking to a stranger on the phone who didn’t like bats, probably had a bat roost in her house and didn’t yet know about it. I told her all about how great bats were, and how they are clean and not smelly. I asked her what she thought of midges? She didn’t like them either. Bats eat up to 3000 midges a night I told her. She quite liked that. I asked if she’d like one of our roost visitors to come to her house and have a look and give her some advice. She liked that too. Job done. Onto the next call.

An elderly couple had sat in their garden one evening and observed 129 bats fly out of the loft. We’ve got bats, she said and asked how she went about getting rid of them? I found myself talking to a stranger who obviously considered bats to be like having mice in her house and I was about to tell her it would be against the law to disturb them. What do you think of midges? I asked her…

A man called with a harrowing tale of two bats he’d found in a storage tub in his garage. One was dead and the other was clinging onto it, barely alive. He emailed me a photo so I could see how dead the dead one was. Like many other calls I’ve taken like this I took his details and had a look at our google map of bat carers and roost visitors to see who was nearest. Then I spent some time getting hold of different people until I found one who was able to take in an injured bat that night. I passed on the man’s details and they liased to exchange the bat and hopefully nurse it back to health and release it.

That’s the last I hear of individual cases on the bat line. At the monthly meetings the bat care secretary delivers the stats for that month. How many injured bats in, how many released, how many die and how many need to be euthanized. Some make it, others don’t. A lot of people dedicate a lot of time and energy to achieve the result of some of the bats taken in being released. Disproportionate you could argue…

One of my favourite science-fiction stories is The Sound of Thunder by Ray Bradbury. After stepping on a butterfly while on a time traveling trip to the Jurassic era, a man returns home to the future to find it’s not as he left it. That butterfly was food for another creature and ancestor to a billion others who all had their place in history. Without it things just weren’t the same. I like to think of the bats that get successfully rereleased this way. They are the potential ancestors of and food to countless others. You’re not just adding one creature back into the mix, the effects can spread far further than that.

Earlier this year I trained as a bat carer and last week I got my rabies form back from the doctors confirming that I up to date on my jabs. Now I can experience the other side of the bat line. Yesterday was Tuesday, my day on the line. One call: a couple on Chorlton had found a bat in their porch. Perfect! Chorlton is ten minutes down the road from me. I arranged to collect it when I got home from work. I left work early so could tidy the  spare room in preparation and read up on the bat care workshop notes, People at work wished me luck…

Having recently (finally) passed my driving test I was able to drive to the person’s house. When I arrived he was stood on his doorstep looking into an open shoe-box. Sadly the bat was dead. Some make it, some don’t.

My first injured bat as a bat care for South Lancs Bat Group. Sadly this little fella was already dead when I collected it. Holes in its wings and the cat at the property give you a good idea how it died.

I had a look at its wings and they had puncture holes which I imagine would have matched the cat’s teeth which was winding around its owner’s legs when I collected the bat from them, Cat’s can of course not help their predatory nature. It was this bat’s misfortune that the two animals met.

Fingers crossed next time will be a more positive experience. What’s nice is that after making the effort to get into bats, putting in the time and work, I am now genuinely excited about the prospect.

Building inspections & sunrise reflections (Placement days 35 to 45)

I had the opportunity to go on a couple of building inspections last week. Usefully, one of these buildings was very suitable and the other averagely so meaning I have bench marks by which to measure future visits. When Sarah and I pulled up at the very suitable building (an old barn) you could see by her face that she knew immediately we were likely to find evidence of a roost there, and sure enough the loft was littered with droppings and discarded moth wings. Apparently the reason for the discarded wings is that medium sized bats like Brown Long Eared are big enough to catch large moths but not big enough to eat them while flying, so they need a feeding roost to hang in while they munch their moth down.

The building of medium suitability was on a farm. When Helen and I arrived there the owner warned us that there was a dog in one of the buildings but reassured us that it was a nice dog. After he left, a horse whinnied. When you’re expecting a dog, the sound of a horse whinnying sounds remarkably like Scooby Doo laughing. There were some very old bat droppings in this place which crumbled to dust between your fingers. Not like the shiny, black jewels of the old barn.

The first rule of a building inspection is: look down before you look up, you don’t want to tread all over your evidence. Building inspections are a bit CSI.

Earlier this week I caught the train to Rochdale one evening for a dawn survey the next day. As the train whisked through the many brownfield sites that separate Oldham and Rochdale from Manchester I was treated to flick-book style animation of a battle taking place between Rosebay Willowherb and Himalayan Balsam. The war for supremacy was at times heavily in favor of one species the other, and at other times it was being thrashed out hand to hand with each occurring equally in saturated fields.

There was a chaise-longue in my Travel Inn room which I sat on eating Malteasers, feeling very opulent while watching TV before an early night/start for the dawn survey. My survey position for this survey was between two houses at the back of the site. I wore a high vis jacket in an attempt to look less scary to anyone who might notice me stood there in the middle of the night. There was very little bat activity. I resisted the urge to count the seconds away in my head. I got to 4 before before I stopped myself but as usual that was enough to trigger this song in my head which remained (not unpleasantly) for rest of the survey…

Over breakfast in the Premier Inn; Chloe, Sarah, Kelly, Vicky and myself discussed the phenomenon of lizards shedding their tails when caught or distressed. It seems as though it isn’t just something having hold of their tail that makes them shed it, but just the stress of being caught at all. We speculated that while it’d be useful to be able to grow back lost limbs, shedding them when distressed would cause all kinds of problems for humans. Imagine if you lost an arm or leg every time you were stressed or nervous. Job interviews, driving, weddings… Lack of sleep leads to some peculiar conversations.

Thursday saw a return to Cumbria. I’m getting to know the site well and was looking forward to going back. This time I was with Helen and Vicky. There was lots to get done. My time was split between helping Helen with water-vole/otter surveys and helping Vicky with hedgerow surveys. It was a humid day and we headed to the hotel, tired and hungry to load up on carbs (the hotel is very generous with its chip portions) before heading back out for the dusk survey.

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As we headed back to the site the sun was setting big and orange. It was eyebrow-raisingly beautiful and we all took pictures on our phones…

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I took up my position with my back to the main road. The setting sun turned from rich orange to polished, red glass and washed the big sky and long clouds vanilla. It began to look more like the far east than the north west.

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Cows snorted and farted in the field next to me, sparrows chirped in the hedge and swallows swooped overhead.

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Calves played at being bulls, butting heads. The sunlight began to filter from the sky. Vanilla turned to chrome, a mist fell across the fields in the distance and the hedge fell silent and the sky empty.

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With my back to the road, passing traffic back lit me, sliding my shadow across the field like a moving target in a shooting range. Pipistrelles arrived around half nine, passing over me on their way elsewhere.

Up at 4am for the dawn survey. The moon was almost full and so bright we cast a shadow as we headed down the track. For this survey my position was at the furthest end of the farm, a good ten minute walk from Helen’s position. Walking through the moonlit countryside I felt like both predator and prey as I kept an anxious look out for the feisty cows which have been the cause of so many reroutes on our walks across the site.

Thankfully I encountered none making it to my stretch of track in one piece, and greeted by a cacophony of bat calls which fizzed and popped from my detector.

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In the distance I could hear a dairy farm starting work, ushering in the cows. Farmers called out: “Come on girl! COOOOOME-on GIRRRRL!”.

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Pipistrelles foraged back and forth above my head.

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My earworn for the dawn survey was Louis Armstrong…

…which I whistled along to as the sky over the farms was lit up by another beautiful Cumbria dawn.

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At six Helen called and I began the walk back to meet her. I sang ‘Oh what a beautiful morning’ to myself as I crossed fields and climbed over fences. What I didn’t know at this point but would find out later that day is that my step-father who has been very ill would not last the day and the already rather special sunset and sunrise I’d witnessed would be the last of his lifetime. They are inevitably all the more poignant to me as I look back on my photos. So this blog is for my step-dad, Ken Wyatt, who saw many beautiful sunsets and sunrises in his life, and wasn’t one to overlook the beauty such things.

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Back to Cumbria (Placement days 24 & 25)

Back in the car with Sarah to Cumbria. Journeys always seem to go faster when you know them and we flew through the counties, peaks and traffic in no apparent time at all.

I continued to pick Sarah’s brains for botanical ID tips. I am either coming across as relentlessly enthusiastic or relentlessly annoying.

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The sun was back out after a week of rain and as we drove along hedge lined country roads in Cumbria, what looked a lot like a bat flew across the road and in front of the car for a second or two, in broad daylight. After a moment of me rerunning the image in my head before bringing it up Sarah said: “Was that a bat?!” A rare sight indeed.

Upon arriving on site we cracked back on with the Phase 1 survey we had started the previous week and I was allocated a hedge to work on a species list for…

Red Clover leaf, as evident by the angle (>90°) on the veins from the centre stem

Annual Meadow Grass. Crimped leaf.

#Betony

#Yarrow

#Feverfew

#Dogrose

Heliotrope

#MarshFoxTail

#BlackKnapweed

#Meadowsweet

Once again the Phase 1 took longer than expected and we had to wolf down our dinner back at the hotel. I’d been feeling progressively worse as the day had gone on. It was painful to swallow and my head hurt. I felt pretty rotten. I mentioned that I thought I might be coming down with something as I didn’t want to come across as though I was quiet because I was bored. Sarah said she had noticed I’d gone quiet and suggested that during survey season it isn’t unusual to feel as though you’re coming down with something when in fact you’re just run down.

That definitely sounded like something my subconscious would do so I resolved to pull myself together, put on a happy face and made an effort to say more. I then asked Sarah if she had noticed me perk up which kinda defeats the object but she said she had and inquired what had happened? I said I’d just pulled myself together and stopped being such a wimp.

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A plate of scampi, a glass of coke with ice and a 20 minute power nap and I was feeling markedly better as we headed through the fields to our dusk bat survey site. The cows have young calves and are paranoid and confrontational around people which made getting to the site a challenge. On walking through one field they all started approaching us. We left that field and began walking around the parameter but the cows followed us on the other side so that when we came to the point where we needed to climb over, they were there, so we had to wait until they’d all passed by. Then when we climbed over and began crossing the field they began hurrying over to intercept us. As we reached our point of no return it was clear if we carried on they’d beat us to the middle so we had to hurry back and over the fence again!

With a detour we eventually made it to our survey site and I settled in to watch the sky darken behind a large old ash tree. I’ve discovered I don’t like staring at ash trees. Their pinnate leaves create the feeling of double vision as they cross at different levels. All was quiet until nearly 10pm when we were treated to acrobatic pip foraging as at least 3 bats swooped around us and one another. One flying so close to my face I exclaimed: “WOW!”

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It’s funny the things that go through your head as you stare at the trees and the sky, waiting for the bats. I’ve leaned my brain acts as a randomized juke box with songs appearing out of nowhere and playing on a loop. This night I was treated to ‘Jimmy Mac’ by Martha and Vandellas.

On our way back through the fields we were met by the cows again, headed by the big old white bull with a limp, or ‘Limpy’ as we’ve come to know him. So again we rerouted, through dark fields, over barbed wire, back to the car, to the hotel, and finally I was back in my room and more than ready for the three and a half hours sleep I had before our dawn survey.

No cows to avoid, at dawn I stood on the dirt track watching Sarah’s torch light make it’s way over to a tree in the distance,. When she got to it she pointed it up into the tree, lighting the whole thing up like a cathedral.

Frogs croaked with gusto from the vegetation behind me, lapwings squeaked in the field in front and an owl hooted in the distance. I watched my tree.

Dawn tree 1
Dawn tree 2
Dawn tree 3
Dawn tree 4

Morning doesn’t break smoothly. It comes in surges as though the sun is being heaved over the horizon by an unseen titan before finally rolling down over everything.

Dawn bat survey in Cumbria #PAASvy

The next day we returned to the site to finish the Phase 1. I took the field of rushes, compiling a list of the species in the hedge first then carefully hopping across (and occasionally into) the many, and sometimes discrete, water courses.

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