Terri Smith, Assistant Director Terri has a background in medical transcription and also worked for years with in educational systems developing life skills programs for special needs children. Terri is an animal rights activist with a special place in her heart for the under-dog. She had never been around bats before coming to Bat World Sanctuary and had always believed what a lot of people believe – that bats are scary. Within two minutes of being with them she quickly realized that she had spent a lot of years with the wrong ideas. Terri states “My day is no longer complete unless I have had my daily time with them.” Terri’s favorite part of the day is feeding them their treats. Least favorite part of the day – getting yelled at by the bats for being late with their treats! Terri’s patience, cheerful, go-getter attitude, her flexibility, and all around smarts make Terri a valued asset to Bat World Sanctuary.
Jen Toretto, Assistant Keeper
Jen has always had a love for all animals and a soft spot for the misunderstood. She has spent many years volunteering for various animal rescues, helping any way she can. Jen is the type that stops to push turtles out of the road and carries leashes and treats in her car to help stray dogs. She is a single mom whose life revolves around her daughter, animals, and cars. She is a vegetarian and checks all bath and beauty products to be sure they are cruelty free. Her first experience with bats was when she 14 and visited Carlsbad Caverns. She has had a fascination ever since. Jen believes that if everyone would care, even a little, we could see the day that the only need for rescues and sanctuaries would be to help the injured and not because of humans, their greed, or cruelty. “I will always be the voice for the voiceless.” Jen’s experience in the field of animal rights and animal rescue make her a welcome asset to Bat World Sanctuary.
Before Mildred came to us she’d accomplished quite a lot on her own. While she called the decades-old bat colony in the heart of downtown Mineral Wells, TX home, each winter this tiny, inch-long bat would fly out one night with the rest of her colony and head for Central America to escape the cold. Each spring she would return to reform their community, raise her pup and keep people who didn’t even know she existed free of insect pests and free to enjoy the night in peace, as she did. As the years took their toll, the migrations felt longer, gravity felt stronger and the heavy demands of motherhood grew heavier. Sometime over the years Mildred lost the tip of her tail, but for approximately eighteen years she persevered, until one day the rigors of it all became too much for her and she found herself grounded.
One thing saved her: she finally succumbed in her Texas home, and that home is a wild sanctuary under the care of Bat World. A volunteer found her starving and dehydrated, still pressing onward as best she could to crawl toward some kind of safety. She was rescued and she quickly recovered to the point where she would ordinarily be returned to the wild.
There were two problems, however. It was immediately clear that she loved being at Bat World Sanctuary. She took to her caretakers very quickly, and learned to feed herself from the meal worm dishes which is very unusual for a bat of her age. After just a few days it was clear that she liked them very much as she grew rounder and rounder.
It was also clear that the old age that grounded her would only do so again if she were to be released. Time had worn her teeth down so that she’d have had trouble grabbing insects from the air and holding onto them. It had likely made feeding difficult for her for some time and was almost certainly the problem that had caused her to almost starve. Having worked so hard for so long she deserved an easy retirement, and so she was given one. Mildred will live out her life at Bat World with many other old friends rescued from that same colony, where flying is simply for the joy of it, and plentiful food will never be out of her reach.
Many of you have tracked the progress of the new facility via our Facebook updates, but now the preliminary stages of moving in are underway. We’ll be operating at our same address of 20 years for the time being; with the bats requiring constant care it’s not simply a matter of packing everything up and moving it from here to there. So, for the next month both our current facility and the new facility will need to be operational so that the only interruption to the bats’ routines is a short car ride when the final day of moving arrives.
To that end, we’ve been putting special effort into the new flight enclosures and the new clinic, as these areas always will be the heart of Bat World. The interiors of the enclosures are being designed and laid out, cabinets and shelves have been assembled (by myself, with several do-overs) and a forest mural is being hand-painted around the flight enclosures by the very talented Sarah Kennedy, an artist and photographer who has volunteered at Bat World for several years. Sarah flew all the way from New York to do this for us. Those of you who’ve ordered our book Baby See-through will be familiar with her artwork. We’re extremely grateful for her time and effort in helping us create such a scenic environment for our residents.
Even my brother got in on the action, helping Amanda and me to move clinic supplies and furniture yesterday. In fact, we got so focused on loading up a desk, boxes of formula, supplements, medical supplies, reference books, as much as we could that we forgot to leave any space for him in the back to ride in the back of the vehicle. We’d have unloaded some stuff to make room for him, but he insisted on sandwiching himself between boxes and making the trip. It was a small selfless act, and we appreciated it. You know how it is when you’re moving: the smallest thing can solicit the most profound gratitude. This applies doubly so in the midst of a sweltering Texas summer. Thanks, Mark.
Volunteers spent the 4th of July hanging cabinets and setting up incubators for orphaned and injured bats, because alongside all this transition, nature keeps on being nature, and right now in nature bats’ activity is at its peak. In other words, it’s baby season. We’ve taken in 11 free tail pups this week, and just today I went to pick up 3 mother bats that had gotten lost and trapped in a building. They were quite dehydrated and sluggish, but with injections of electrolytes for hydration and small feedings throughout the day they bounced back quickly. Thankfully, they were able to be released that very night and as predicted, they flew straight back to their roost, likely to find their very hungry babies as quickly as possible.
We can’t save every single bat in need – nobody can – but thanks to the support of our incredibly loyal base of donors, many, many baby bats are saved from prolonged suffering and given a second chance at life. Your donations have helped us put formula into a newborn orphan’s belly, provided pain medications and antibiotics for injured bats, and most importantly, you have helped us built a new facility so that we can continue saving even badly wounded babies and adults, giving them a chance to fly free once again. And to think, we have only just begun!
It’s funny what you end up daydreaming about when you have to prepare a giant bin of fruit every day, the fruit bat’s nightly ration. For us, a huge refrigerator is close to the top of the list. We use a large variety of fruit, including but not limited to organic apples, bananas, sweet potatoes, pears, honeydew melon, blueberries, papaya, kiwi, etc. All these things ripen, and thus spoil, at different rates at room temperature. We refrigerate what we can, but we currently have nowhere near enough space for everything.
Once in the new facility, however, this will no longer be a problem. One of our biggest supporters purchased the fridge of a fruit salad chef’s dreams, one of such size that we don’t even have the space to use it here in our current facility. It’s being safely stored at the moment, but it wasn’t stored easily.
On the morning of the day it arrived, February 14th (Valentine’s Day), we’d gotten word a couple days before that the fridge had been purchased for us, which was really great news. We then speculated on when the delivery might occur but assumed since it was coming by freight it would be at least 2 to 3 weeks. The thing weighed a monstrous 450 pounds and was possibly too large to simply bring in through our shipping hall door, so we needed to take some measurements and find a place to store it until we moved. Thankfully, we had plenty of time.
Then, only two days later, a semi truck pulled up in front of Bat World’s facility. It couldn’t be the refrigerator, we said. The donor had just bought it. No way it comes in that fast. And besides, freight trucks sometimes get overloaded and can’t make it to all their stops in a given day; there was a fair chance that this shipment, which couldn’t have possibly been the fridge, wouldn’t even arrive today. The truck must be delivering groceries to the bistro across the street from us. So, reassured, we went about our business.
Then we saw the driver headed to our door, and the afternoon rapidly went downhill from there. He handed me the freight bill which listed an unspecified item (they often do; it’ll say “appliance” or the like rather than be more specific) with a weight of 450 pounds. Sure enough, when he opened the door to his trailer, there it was, looming monolithically over us. It only took a second to see that not only was it going to be too heavy for Amanda and I to move ourselves, but it was also very possibly too big for the shipping hall entrance.
While the driver began unloading it, we went to work doing whatever we could to widen the entrance. There was a light fixture taking up a few inches in the shipping hall that I hastily removed. From there we switched to clearing out the hall as much as possible and discovering that even if we could get the fridge inside, the doors would be unable to close.
The worst part, for me, was that prior to coming to Bat World, I’d spent eleven years working in a warehouse, where part of my responsibilities had been to handle the unloading of the larger, heavier and more awkward shipments that came in: huge bundles of steel, tower sections, and anything else that would make insurance companies tremble to see balanced in the air on a forklift. There, I could have literally unloaded this thing in about thirty seconds. It stung more than a little to be so stymied by a refrigerator.
It wasn’t just us; the driver didn’t have an easy time of it either. To get the fridge over the curb and on the sidewalk in front of Bat World’s facility, he had to drag it with his pallet jack all the way to the end of the block and up the incline at the crosswalk, then walk it down the sidewalk back to our entrance. And that, per his company’s insurance regulations, was all he could do for us. It was up to us to get it the rest of the way.
So there it sat, so close, yet so far. The thing was even mounted on wheels, but it also sat on a skid, and thus the wheels weren’t actually touching the ground. It was all very frustrating until Amanda seized upon an idea: our contractor who is overseeing the work on the new facility must know somebody who could help us! They’d surely have access to the right equipment as well! One apprehensive phone call later – as we had absolutely no Plan B if they couldn’t or were unwilling to help – and a crew was en route. Good guy, our contractor.
I left at this point to go home, as the bats were set for the day and there was nothing else I could contribute. In doing so, I missed the fun that came later, such as the crew that didn’t speak English, or the mailbox being removed from the glass door to see if that allowed room, and when it didn’t, both glass entry doors were removed from their hinges. Amanda stood by holding and handing out any tools they might need and hanging onto screws that had to be removed from the doors, trying her best to help in small ways despite the language barrier. There was also the removal of the fridge from its skid by sheer muscle power, which makes the ex-warehouse worker in me both cringe and nod approvingly at the same time. Even with a proper crew rather than two mere bat rescuers, that couldn’t have been easy.
For their efforts, which resulted in the fridge safely squeezed inside and the glass doors and mailbox all back in place, Amanda gave them the closest thing on hand in an attempt to show gratitude: a few pieces of individually wrapped Valentine’s Day candy. It was her sincere hope that they didn’t misinterpret her small gift.
In the end, the fridge ended up safely stored in the far end of the shipping hall where it sits now, completely blocking one of our shelves, a reminder of the surplus of space we’ll soon have at the new facility and the uncommon generosity of our supporters. It will make feeding Peekaboo and her cohorts easier in a million different ways. Our stocks will be all in one place, we won’t have to track ripeness or spoilage for each different kind of fruit as it’ll all be preserved and all of it can be procured at once, maybe as far as two weeks in advance. It’s hard to believe, but then, as we well know, that is one huge refrigerator.
Still, every time I’m in the shipping hall now and see it, only one thought comes to mind: Someday, and soon, we’ll have to move it again. Science has about a month to perfect teleportation before be move, and I for one am holding out hope.
I’m loathe to admit that I have favorite bats among those we care for, but I am particularly drawn to a few of them. There’s Ichabod, for starters, the formerly injured and now chubby free tail who is responsible for me being at Bat World to begin with. It goes without saying that he would mean quite a lot to me.
With the fruit bats, though, it’s always been Poppy. You might have expected me to say Peekaboo, but that’s backwards; Peekaboo has favorite humans. This arrangement cannot be reversed.
It’s just that the tragedy of Poppy’s history is palpable. She spent most of her life at a zoo in Canada where she was forced to keep a diurnal sleep schedule and endure exhibitions for the crowds of visitors. That she was profoundly unhappy there is evidenced by the warnings we received when she was sent to us. Look out, Poppy likes to bite.
From day one, Poppy has never tried to bite any of us for any reason whatsoever. She has ample chances at treat time, but not only does she never bite, she’s actually very careful in taking the treat from our fingers.
Still, Poppy remained very, very shy. With her past, who could blame her? As one of the largest bat species on earth, she towered over the African fruit bats. She’d no longer be mistreated, but I feared she’d always be lonely, and that there was nothing we could ever do to truly fix it for her. Every time I brought her the traditional bit of papaya at treat time, I’d see sadness and trepidation in her eyes, and it broke my heart every single time. Yes, she was safe, and yes, she’d never be abused, but after what she suffered, I wanted her to be happy. She deserved to be happy.
It wasn’t just her eyes, nor a flight of imagination extrapolated from what I knew of her background. When we’d bring her that chunk of papaya, she’d hide her face from us. My coworker Angela and I quickly figured out that she was extremely easily startled, and that if we approached her slowly and called out her name in a soft tone of voice before peeking into her roost, she was a little less nervous. It was a little thing, but it was something we could do to make her more comfortable, and we did it religiously thereafter, and still do.
It went like this for weeks after I arrived, until one day I went to her roost with her papaya only to find that she wasn’t there. Panic ensued, and Angela and I swept through the enclosure with as much haste as was possible without frightening the other bats until she spotted Poppy in a very peculiar place: the roosting area of the Egyptian fruit bats. She had settled into the back and blended into the dimness very well with her dark fur even as she dwarfed all the dozens of bats around her. It was only her big orange eyes that allowed Angela to find her, and it only occurs to me now as I write this that it was because she made eye contact with Angela. That was something that Poppy rarely did with us, if ever.
The next day, she had returned to her usual solitary roost, but every two or three weeks there would be a day where we’d find her with the Egyptians again. We all wondered what Poppy’s reasons for spending the day with them were, and while I was tempted to observe her as much as I could, both her and the Egyptians are easily disturbed, and it goes without saying that their comfort did and will always take precedence over my curiosity.
Weeks passed, as they do, until recently we found her with the Egyptians two days in a row, which she’d never done before. Even more interestingly, that second day found her behaving very differently: she no longer hid her face from us. She took her papaya without hesitation. She looked me squarely in the eye, and I could swear that I didn’t see any of the sadness I always saw before. At the time I shrugged it off; I wasn’t entirely sure that those sad eyes weren’t a figment of my sometimes overly romantic imagination, although in retrospect it made perfect sense. Bats are highly social creatures, and over the years Amanda has seen enough anecdotal evidence to come to believe that loneliness can actually severely impact their health, and is actually fatal in extreme cases. It makes perfect sense that Poppy would find her boldness with the Egyptians, even though they aren’t her species. Bats don’t concern themselves too much with such arbitrary divisions. To them, bats are bats.
As of today, Poppy has never returned to her old roost, and is a totally different bat. Today she waits expectantly for her treat and takes it eagerly. She doesn’t shy away, and will even let me pet her without showing any nervousness or uncertainty. Best of all, though, she seems happy.
We’ll never know exactly what caused the change: it could have been safety in numbers, perhaps Peekaboo’s brazenness rubbed off on her, maybe we were just a few pieces of papaya away from gaining her full trust all along, but somehow overnight she found a boldness that I never expected to see in her.
What I do know, now, is that it happened so organically despite its suddenness that it was only in the last couple of days as I was telling the story to someone that I realized how significant this is. We’ve had many bats that were tragically orphaned, many others that endured ill treatment at the hands of people who didn’t know or didn’t care how to properly tend them, but Poppy had endured years of mistreatment. She was forced to perform and subjected to crowds and noise when her circadian rhythm dictated that she should have been sleeping, and finally subjected to what must have been a terrifying international journey, finding herself with us at the end of it. Many bats who suffer much less never forget it, and at best will only tolerate our presence, and then only if we don’t come too close. It pains us, of course, that we can’t convey to them that they are safe, finally, but ultimately we respect their wishes and keep our distance as best we can as we tend to the colony.
Poppy, however, with the help of her new and comparatively diminutive best friends, has overcome her past. The difference in her is truly amazing. They could have told me we’d taken in a new flying fox as an April Fool’s joke, one that looks exactly like Poppy, that took up the exact same spot in the Egyptians’ roosting area, that also insists on papaya at treat time, and I’d have believed it.
Words can’t possibly convey to you how utterly great it is to see Poppy out of the shell she hid in for so long, but many of you have cared enough to sponsor her through the Adopt-a-Bat program, and we felt we owed it to you to try.
The vast bulk of the credit goes to Poppy herself, and the accepting nature of bats in general. They don’t see her huge size or her orange eyes or her fox-like face; all they see is another bat. That makes it their success story more than ours, and it couldn’t be a more beautiful one.
Caring for microbats can be very, very different than caring for megabats. The latter can be small, but the former are tiny.Further along that line, for the most part most of these are crevice dwelling bats as opposed to the foliage that fruit bats favor. Crevice dwelling bats know no claustrophobia.In fact, they redefine agoraphobia.When you consider this alongside their diminutive stature, you can see that things might get a little tricky.
As soon as you enter the insect bat enclosure, this is apparent.It might seem as though the native guys – as nearly all of our insect bats are native to this area – are the unfavored stepchildren of Bat World.This, however, isn’t true.No toys hang from the ceiling, but its only because the insect bats would have to come out into the open for extended periods of time to play with them, and it’s just not in their nature to do that. The enclosures also smaller, but so are the bats, as well as the number of them that can actually utilize the flight space. Insect bats really only come to us as rescues in distress of one sort or another, and while nearly all of them are subsequently released after we tend to them, the only ones who stay are those too badly injured or otherwise weakened to return to the wild. As a result, the vast majority of our residents can’t fly at the level of a wild bat, and a great many of those can’t fly at all, so their enclosure is set up so that these bats can traverse its entirety without flapping one wing. More than one only have the one wing to flap as it is, so this is important.
Because of this accessibility, one thing is paramount: safety. The absolute very first thing you must know is that these bats can be anywhere.We’re dealing with highly intelligent animals that can squeeze – with a little difficulty, but they can –through a half- inch wide gap. Not only that, but given their predilection for very enclosed spaces, they enjoy doing so. Tight space is their natural defense. Think of it like a spy choosing a seat at a restaurant so that his back is to the wall and he can see all the exits. Even after he retires, he still chooses the seat at the back because its the only way he feels safe and comfortable.Similarly, a crevice dwelling bat in an open space is invariably a nervous bat and will without fail seek any cover it can find as soon as the opportunity presents itself.
So, the routine: the first thing to do is to start the mealworm sorting process.It’s important, as we hold the same standards for bat food as we do for our own.We order tens of thousands of mealworms at a time, which come packed in grain from a local supplier. Mealworms are the larva of flour beetles. Invariably, a minority of the worms will die off.All will shed their skin as they plump up, and some will even begin to pupate.
The bats don’t like to eat the pupae. Would you? Thus, all this has to be winnowed from the good stuff.But you’re in luck:with a minute of preparation, the mealworms will do it for you. Just sift enough worms from the grain, then place them into the far end of a large bin. Place the smaller bin in the other end of the larger one, then put a big bright fluorescent light over the whole set-up.Mealworms hate light; the smaller bin provides shade. They’ll flock to that shade, leaving the detritus behind. Easy.
Had you worked for a certain institute’s ill-fated assurance colony attempt (their name starts with Smiths- and ends in -onian), you’d have instead spent hours-long shifts plucking viable mealworms out, one-by-one-by -one, with tweezers even though you were trained by Bat World not to do this. You’d also have been wearing a hazmat suit to work with the bats, which is a little like wearing ballistic body armor to a game of golf.
Once the worms are busily turning the concept of survival of the fittest on its head, it’s time to head into the enclosure.Your work primarily concerns the cave, a cabinet designed especially for the bats as well as the caretaker who hand-feeds them.
The basics, as with all bats and all animals in general, are the same. The water and food dishes are much smaller, but need cleaning and refilling as always. The enclosure needs cleaning, although it’s a much easier job than picking/sweeping/mopping after the manically messy fruit bats. Care needs to be taken to disturb the bats as little as possible while all this is done.
All these differences in the insect bats temperament and nature that I’ve pointed out ultimately culminate in the biggest difference between the fruit bat and insect bat routines:the gathering and hand-feeding of those who can’t self-feed. It can seem odd that they simply don’t know how to eat mealworms from a dish, but insect bats eat on the wing, snatching bugs out of the air with the help of echolocation so precise that radar systems around the world tremble with envy. Going from that to a food dish is as easy for them as it is for you to learn how to eat your food only when someone throws it through the air at you. When we get a young bat, there’s a very good chance that they can learn with a little time, but when an older bat comes to us, its more difficult. Some older bats have worn teeth and must be hand-fed soft food for the remainder of their lives, so training isn’t even attempted.
The gathering of the bats coincides with a health check which is performed on every single bat once a day. The bats who need to be hand-fed are marked for easy identification via a green earlobe. The green color is a harmless non-toxic and non-permanent tattoo paste that’s simply smudged onto the ear. Its humane and completely safe, but does need refreshing now and then. All the bats inside the fabric roosting pouches are checked as well as the roosts along the wall of the enclosure, changing roosts out for fresh ones as needed. While performing the daily check, any bats that are to be hand-fed are gathered and placed into a small netted enclosure called a bathut. After the bats are fed they are placed the “Luxury Suite.”The Luxury Suite is a larger, decked-out bathut that includes enrichment. The hand-fed bats will spend the day sleeping inside the luxury suite before being hand-fed again in the evening. After the evening hand-feeding, the bats are placed back into their normal roosting areas inside their cave. Often times if we are running late in the morning, some of the hand-fed bats actually load the selves into the bathut in anticipation of being fed.
As for the actual handling of a microbat, one simply lightly places their hand over the bat, gently contains the bats wings to protect its fingers from injury, grasps it just as gently and manipulates its thumbs and toes as needed to unpluck it from its roost.It requires a light touch and a knowledge of the way a bats claws curve, and is one of the many reasons a volunteer has to spend a fair amount of time with us before they’re allowed into the insect enclosure.Further, even volunteers who’ve handled bats before have to learn our way of handling them.We’ve spoken out against inhumane handling practices before, and we can’t be sure what volunteers have been taught.
Syringes of soft food (blended mealworms and vitamins) are retrieved from the fridge and placed in hot-but-not-scalding water to heat it up for them, “bat nappies” (to gently wipe their faces as they are fed) are made from small sections of damp paper towels, and the feeding commences.The bat rests in one hand, legs near the thumb and the fingers curled up around the bat without gripping it.The thumb keeps the bat from wriggling backward out of your hand and the fingers give the bat a nice enclosed space to feel hidden and safe within.
As for actually administering the food, one has to keep in mind that the syringes are longer than the bat itself and be aware of how much food is given at one time, how often, when the bat swallows, be careful to keep any from getting on the bats nostrils and a myriad other circumstances.These tiny animals, if fed too quickly, can easily aspirate the food, which can lead to bacterial pneumonia and even death.To avoid aspiration a seven-second rule is followed;a tiny bit is given to the bats every seven seconds or so.Some are curious about being held and will often stop to look at you as they’re eating, slowing down the count.Others will actually chew on the syringe tip when they’re ready for another mouthful, and these can be fed slightlyfaster while still being very careful to allow them to swallow before giving the next bite.
Miss Brown, the only big brown bat that requires hand-feeding, has a different process.In her case, the food is injected from the syringe into a tiny dish from which she laps.Another difference is that Miss Brown is a very mellow, cooperative bat.She even tells us when shes finished by wiggling her little feet.
Speaking of specific bats, and as a good way to close this long-winded glimpse into the insect bats lair, I feel like I should spotlight some of our individual insect bats, as they tend to get less attention than their more flamboyant fruit-eating cousins.Some have their stories available on our website, but there are others, such as Oscar, the cave bat. He, like Poppy, a flying fox bat in the fruit bat’s enclosure, is the only one of his kind in residence, but given his extremely territorial (grouchy) nature, we think he likes it that way.Being territorial, he is in the same roosting pouch every day, and woe unto any other bat who gets too close.In fact, he dislikes other bats roving around in general, and if there’s too much wandering going on, he’ll emerge from his pouch, yelling and chasing the errant bats not only away, but into another pouch nearby.He doesn’t care which one, he just likes to have a clear idea of where the property lines are. If the cave were a neighborhood, he would be the little old man who yells at everyone who steps on his lawn.
Then we have Smiley. That she is still with us is something that I feel we should be proud of, although she was rescued and rehabilitated long before I came to Bat World. She was found at our wild sanctuary as a starving baby almost four years ago with a massive scabbed-over injury to the left side of her face; the injury was big enough that the left side of her face is as precise a location as can be given for it. It was severe enough that she couldn’t nurse, so she was hand-fed from an eyedropper and treated against infection until she was able to heal and resume nursing. The wound took her left eye and left half of her face badly disfigured, yet she is otherwise a healthy, happy and trusting bat.
There’s also Goldilocks, who is ironically male, and an infamously fussy eater. Yes, he needs hand-feeding and it has to be just right.There’s Keeper, an otherwise amiable bat who nonetheless chatters at you every single time he he’s picked up for his feeding. Such vocalizations are usually a protest of annoyance in being disturbed from his incredibly busy schedule, but Keeper tends to go along with the flow regardless. We’re not sure what he’s saying but we know it’s him even before opening our hand to see whom it is that we have gathered.
Lastly, of course, there’s Ichabod.He and I go way back. We first met on Halloween of last year in the warehouse I worked in; he had a wrist injury and was soldiering his way across our concrete floor looking for shelter. I thought he was pretty tough when he started climbing our bay door with that swollen red wrist of his, but he went on to make me quit my job, move and start hanging around bats all day.He is a bat to be reckoned with.
His wrist, once healed, wasn’t quite the same as it was before, and so he’s here for life. Specifically, his wing is stuck a little splayed open. It could be fixed with painful physical therapy – yes, there is physical therapy for bats – but it doesn’t seem to pose him any difficulty, nor would said therapy restore his ability to fly. As he is by all indications a happy, healthy and sociable bat, we see no need to disrupt his life with a lot of pain and upset that won’t do much to improve the life that he’s already enjoying.
All told, tending to the insect-eating bats is less physically demanding than the fruit bats, but requires so much patience and care that it can’t really be said to be easier.And while they might be very reclusive, their social behaviors are a lot more observable, as they’re far more likely to just go about their business than fruit bats unless you’re directly interacting with them.You see squabbles over territory, sudden convergences on the food dishes when fresh mealworms are offered, social gatherings, friendships forming and dissolving.The more watchful bats will even give the others a chattering heads-up when they first spot you.It doesn’t feel like a warning, as they don’t all hide any more than they usually do, but a simple relay of information to the colony.
Honestly, they’re probably just calling out that it’s time to eat.
As the infamous panda bat picture has been making the rounds again recently, we’ve felt compelled to speak out about the inhumane way that bats are often held for research photographs. We are speaking out because most people by and large aren’t familiar with bats in general, much less their facial expressions. Given that these pictures are bandied about so frequently in an admiring manner by people who admire bats, we simply want others to understand that these animals are not being held so much as forcibly restrained for the photo.
Of course, it may necessary to restrain the bat to an extent; a wild animal doesn’t understand why it is being restrained. They likely only see a large predator who is capturing them. So when I characterize the pictures in question as showing bats being forcibly restrained, I’m referring more to the equivalent of someone twisting your arms painfully behind your back rather than a pain-free method of confinement.
Another reason we feel compelled to address these pictures as they arise is to get across that there are humane ways to do all of this. These more violent methods – and they are violent and not unlike the dangerous joint locks taught in various forms of martial arts, as both serve the same purpose, being to restrain a subject with pain and threat of serious injury if they resist – are presumably used due to fear and expediency. The comparison is valid both due to the pain that’s obvious to those familiar with bat behavior as well as the common, inadvertent injuries that result from such methods.
It’s important to know that Bat World Sanctuary is not anti-research, in fact, we are supportive of non-invasive/nonlethal research projects that benefit bats, and we have participated in studies of this nature, one of the most prominent on bat vocalizations. What we are against is the inhumane treatment of bats, and in pointing this out it seems to us that our points are indisputable: there are humane ways to handle bats that keep them restrained and take photographs. In fact, the end result of photographing a bat held humanely is a nice photo of a bat that appears normal in expression, which is much more beneficial in promoting bat conservation as a whole. Photos that show bats being held wings outstretched and by their incredibly delicate finger tips, or with their elbows pinned toward their backs in dangerous and agonizing positions, does little to promote bat conservation. In fact, photos like this ultimately mar the reputation of the researcher involved because it appears to the public that the handler would rather inflict pain and injury simply to save a few moments of time and possibly avoid being bitten. And if these handlers are afraid of being bitten, then they should simply stop being cowards, get vaccinated properly and accept that handling wild animals carries a risk of being bitten.
That said, handling bats humanely actually minimizes the likelihood of being bitten. It works on one simple principle; if an animal doesn’t feel as if there’s a dire threat, it significantly decreases its propensity to bite you. And bats aren’t stupid – they know they’ve been captured by gigantic creatures. We tower over them with lights and make strange noises and poke and prod them, gently or otherwise…they know they’re outmatched. If they don’t think there’s an imminent threat that you’ll directly injure them, they won’t pick a futile fight.
Some hard core researchers might wrongly assume that we take a fluffy approach to bat handling and care. For someone with a surface familiarity with animal rehab, this may seem like a valid critique. However, the bats in our captive colonies are all there for one broad reason: they cannot be released. Whether they are permanently injured, orphaned, or were simply born into the pet trade, Bat World sanctuary is all they have. Camaraderie and trust and affection behooves everyone concerned. We want the bats in our care to not feel as if it’s a life or death struggle if we handle them during health checks; we want them to feel safe enough to go back to sleep if we accidentally wake them up as we go about our work.
But past the pragmatic aspects of it, our overriding concern is to provide a safe, rich environment for them to spend their lives. It’s a basic respect for life. That such a thing could be called fluffy should strike us all as very, very sad.
In closing, we simply consider that there is no reason for any researcher to inflict pain on any living thing. If pressed and not allowed to evade that basic question, even they couldn’t honestly disagree with this point. Science and humanity aren’t mutually exclusive. Researchers who opt to be inhumane out of expediency and an unwillingness to accept the risks of handling wild animals should be exposed for this practice. Our hope is that when exposed, they might put forth the extra effort to carry out their research with more respect for their subjects.
It was a lonely, unimaginably long road that brought Isis, an Egyptian fruit bat to where she belonged all along. Where it begins is unclear; her previous “owners” (a well-known amusement park) had thought she was eight years old. Isis is actually eighteen, so there’s ten years missing from her history. It’s a shame that she only found sanctuary as an elderly bat with cataracts who can’t quite hang as well as she used to. Regardless, we are so happy that she finally found peace at Bat World Sanctuary.
Isis spent most of the eight years at the amusement park with her mate. They were the only two bats at the noisy theme park. The theme park was hoping that Isis and her mate would reproduce, but their living conditions wouldn’t allow any offspring to survive. Toward the end, Isis’ mate died, so Isis lived alone in a small glass cage for several months, gawked at by large groups of people seven days a week.
Thankfully, the theme park grew tired of caring for Isis and contacted Bat World Sanctuary. The day of her arrival found Isis scared, both of the shipping ordeal she’d just endured, the strange new place, and the strange new person picking her up. She was so afraid that she would not even hang onto our hand with her feet, but we were gentle and spoke in a soft voice, and Isis finally realized that she was safe. We can’t imagine what she must have felt to enter the flight cage for the first time, to see dozens of Egyptian fruit bats just like her, cuddling together and playing with toys, and eating their fill of nutritious food every night.
Still, there was one more difficulty left for Isis to face. Soon after her arrival, Isis gave birth. Elderly Isis had apparently become pregnant before her mate died and she found herself in a new home with a newborn pup to take care of. Overwhelmed, Isis was unable to care for her baby and it fell to the padded floor of the flight cage. Her baby was found almost immediately, warmed, fed and placed into Bat World’s incubator for hand rearing.
As a few more days passed, Isis finally realized she was “home.” She became familiar with her keepers and in doing so learned to lookforward to the melon treats that always came with soft voices. A short week after giving birth, we heard Isis calling for her baby. Hoping for the best but prepared to continue hand-raising her pup, we brought Isis the pup she was seeking and carefully placed it near her on the flight cage ceiling. Isis immediately went to her baby and encouraged it to climb onto her body. Her pup began nursing just a few minutes later.
Today Isis’ baby is a few months old and well in every possible sense.
As for Isis herself, she appears very happy despite her cataracts and her arthritis. She lives a quiet, peaceful existence with friends and family all her own, and she will never be alone again.
An individual who was hired to “liquidate” the zoo’s animals called us about placing the remaining 8 bats. Sadly, the others had been sold to the cruel exotic pet trade. This individual originally planned to keep the remaining 8 bats and breed them, selling the “stock.” Thankfully, we talked her out of it, and all eight bats made it safely to Bat World Sanctuary in Sept of 2011. Boo2’s mother was pregnant when she arrived and Boo2 was born a few months later.
Boo2 became best buddies with Peekaboo, an Egyptian fruit bat who was rescued from similar conditions in 2009. It was this friendship that earned him the name Boo2. Peekaboo and Boo2 love to spend time with each other and are never seen far apart.
Boo2 has so much personality that we have nicknamed him the “cage clown.” He’s never seen without an endearing, goofy grin on his face. Twice daily, keepers conduct visual exams of the bats under the guise of doling out melon treats to any bat who will take one. Boo2 positions himself in front of the keeper in any way possible in order to receive treat after treat.
We are so grateful to have rescued Boo2 from the dire conditions to which he would have been born, and a situation from which he most likely would have perished. Thank you to all who adopt and support Boo2 so that he and his kind can live a protected, happy and enriched life at Bat World Sanctuary.
Tinkerbell, a Jamaican fruit bat, is a sweet natured and endearingly odd little bat. To know her, you’d never think that her coming into the world had been so heartbreakingly grim.
Her mother was one of the many unfortunate bats that had become ensnared in the exotic pet trade, where bats inevitably live short lives of loneliness and terror. Like so many others in her predicament, Tinkerbell’s mother languished in a captivity wholly unsuited for bats and eventually died giving birth to her daughter. When Tinkerbell arrived at Bat World Sanctuary, she was, as is sadly common for bat pups whose mothers have died in childbirth, still clinging to her mother’s body.
Thankfully, things took a turn for the better; her owner, likely looking for ways to care for a newborn bat, came across Bat World’s Facebook page and learned how hard a pet’s life is for bats. It was too late for Tinkerbell’s mother, but not Tinkerbell herself, and the owner delivered the newborn to Bat World Sanctuary and asked us to keep spreading the word about keeping bats as pets. Were it not for her owner’s kind heart and willingness to admit she’d been wrong, Tinkerbell likely wouldn’t have made it either.
Tinkerbell was hand-raised at Bat World and has grown into a healthy and slightly eccentric adulthood. For whatever reason, be it her traumatic entry into the world or simply her odd little personality, she insists on roosting and eating by herself in the “bat hut” that serves as the halfway house for new arrivals. The bat hut is meant as temporary security for orphaned bats who are learning to adapt to the flight cage, but Tinkerbell has made it her permanent home. It’s not that Tinkerbell fears the other bats; she plays and flies alongside them nightly, and even enjoys visitors that pass through her bat hut. Tinkerbell simply values her solitude.
Since deciding to call the bat hut her permanent home, Tinkerbell now serves as a welcoming committee to newly arriving orphaned bats. She allows the youngsters to roost and cuddle with her inside the bat hut, and in doing so eases their transition to hubbub of the flight cage.
In the wild, Tinkerbell’s solitary nature would deny her the protection of numbers and could put her in danger, but here at Bat World she has a place all her own. And if she wants company, there are over a hundred of her best friends no more than a wing flap away. We may not know why she lacks some of the social impulses that are so strong within other bats, but one thing’s for sure, her days of suffering and loss are over.