There’s what in the belfry?

It was dark and rainy a few nights ago as I passed the warm lights of the Jamaica Inn and saw the turn off from the A30 loom ahead.  It had been a long day in London and it was a miserable night, even the smugglers might have decided to stay in.  I crossed the last cattle grid, thinking of hearth and home, and suddenly something flashed across in the headlights – there is was again.

It was a bat, but I wasn’t able to identify it, but it seemed medium-sized and might have a Brown Long Eared Bat (well, it was brown and a bat), which we have had in the house in the past – though not for long, If Geraldine is in.

It struck me that most people know very little about bats and probably rarely see them, but we have 18 species in the UK, 17 of which breed, and I have to admit I do I really do like all types of bats, especially cricket bats ha ha.

But, here are some amazing facts:

• All UK bat species use echolocation to navigate and hunt for insects in the dark.

• Bats are the only true flying mammals in the world.

• A tiny Pipistrelle, as heavy as a 20p piece, can eat up to 3,000 insects in a night (although I’m not sure there are many Pipistrelle Insect Counters out there).

• Things we get from bat-adapted plants include dates, vanilla, bananas, breadfruit, guavas, Iroko timber, balsa wood, sisal, Tequila and chewing gum!

• Bats are more closely related to humans than they are to mice.

• The majority of the world's bats eat insects - just like British bats. In the tropics bats also eat foods like fruit, flowers, frogs, fish, blood, even other bats.

• Bats usually only have one baby a year and can live for up to 30 years

Autumn is a busy time in the world of bats, ahead of the winter hibernation, as, not only are the bats building up fat reserves for the winter (who isn’t, let’s face it) but it’s Mating Season! (quiet in the back row, Ponsonby-Smallpeice).  As soon as all this drama is over, our little friends will tuck up for the winter and not be seen till late March at best.

There are 12 species of bats in Cornwall, including the Pipistrelle, our smallest and commonest bat.  Cornwall is also well known for the Greater Horseshoe Bat, as it often roosts in old mine shafts.

A Pipistrelle Bat

A Greater Horseshoe Bat

There are a lot of misconceptions about bats, and while it’s true that only a mother might love a Horseshoe Bat’s mug, most of the stories are just folklore.  Bats won’t fly into your hair (they catch tiny insects with echo-sounder technology, for goodness sake), they won’t suck your blood (there are three species of vampire bats in the world but none in Britain) and they aren’t blind – even though we like say “as blind as a bat”.  If you are lucky enough to have a bat fly in your house, just close all the doors and windows but one and it will zoom out into the night.

Whilst our bats are beautiful, do lots of good (no-one loves flies and midges, right?) and are sadly in decline but if you want to see spectacular bats, there is no sight like any other than fruit bats leaving their roost at dusk in Australia.

These Grey-Headed Fruit Bats, or Flying Foxes, can have a wingspan of 3 feet, or 1 metre, and thousands will leave the roosts at dusk to fly up to 50km to feed (on fruit, funnily enough).  When we were in Melbourne, we could sit on our patio, (with a cold stubbie, mate) and the bats would fly over like RAF squadrons from the roost in a nearby park – the size and density of the bats makes is awe inspiring and makes you reach for another beer (no worries, mate).

It’s true that although bats are fully protected in the UK, some people can see them as pests, but like many pests, there is always two sides to a story.  Foxes, the earth-bound ones, have a bit of a mixed reputation as well, but one things for sure, they can certainly create mayhem in a chicken coop.  This happened recently to my friend, Jim, who keeps a few chickens in his garden.  He was awakened one night to a huge commotion outside and, like every chicken guardian, his worse fears were realised – a fox in the chickens!  Leaping out of bed like a gazelle, or a middle-aged man anyway, he grabbed a dressing gown and rushed downstairs, seizing a handy broom on the way (all chicken-owners have handy brooms).  

Hurtling outside, Chicken Man saw the offender sizing up the chickens – Damn Fox!  Rushing at it, brandishing his broom (the wrong way round, but needs must) he yelled at the fox with language to make a vicar brush, err blush.  He suddenly felt a draught and tried to close the dressing gown, but either the pie that night had added a couple of stone in weight, or…….damn, it’s his wife’s gown – the pretty pink one with blue flowers.  Not only were the chickens laughing, the fox was getting an eyeful of his dangly bits – all Eco-warriors sleep au natural.  Feeling vulnerable, Jim took a step back at which point the fox, emboldened by the sight of this apparition, moved forward.  Eek. Summoning his remaining, shredded, dignity, he got things in order downstairs and lurched at the animal.  Given this novel experienced, the fox decide to push off, but he seemed to leave with a snigger.

Despite his heroics, the chickens stopped laying – maybe they need a chicken counsellor.   Worse, as he slipped back into bed, muddy and sweaty, his wife, Ginger, said “Been to the bathroom, love”?  And, the icing was Ginger was not impressed, but bemused, to find her dressing gown mysteriously muddy and smeared with checkencrap.

It’s hard being a hero.