You Must Read This

I read Murr Brewster's blog, Murrmurrs. I love Murr and her writing. So when Murr told me to go check out Joe Blair's blog, I did, and I've never been sorry.  He's a congenitally honest guy, and he writes about his life with such grace and humor and beauty and sorrow that I'm always left exhilarated by it, even though Joe says,  "Our history gains more weight day by day. And the future seems more and more unlikely to be anything cool at all." 

I wrote him a fan letter. He wrote back. I believe in fan letters. I believe in telling a writer (musician, performer, activist...) when he has moved you. I would have written Joe even if he didn't have a cocky snap-brim hat and wise eyes. Once I'd gotten hold of his writing, I was like Pepe Le Pew chasing that poor black and white cat.

When Joe finished his book, By the Iowa Sea, I wrote him and begged for an advance copy. I couldn't wait. Like Murr, I don't write book reviews on my blog. Because even if I had time to read a lot of books critically, which I don't because I take it all so seriously that I literally go back and re-read pages to make sure I'm understanding things, it would take even more time to write the reviews, and writing book reviews is not why I'm here. The bats and the animal droppings and the orchids and the ferruginous hawks and even little Chet Baker would fall by the wayside. And we don't want that. But Joe Blair's book is different. 

I devoured it and disgorged this as-yet-homeless brief review. 

When an early autumn comes to Joe Blair’s marriage, he blunders about trying to figure out what to do with his “one wild and precious life.” There are extenuating circumstances: four children, one of whom will require intensive parental care for the rest of his life. Blair is no Rabbit; he’s in the trenches at work and at home, and keenly aware of the tumbling consequences of his smallest move. In this unflinching look at a marriage on the brink, he reveals himself as devoted father, loving husband, dreamer, and schmuck: fully human, no more or less virtuous than anyone else, but a gifted and fearless writer searching for love and consolation in an often terrifying existence. 

I didn’t want By the Iowa Sea to end; as soon as I realized how much I loved it I started rationing myself to a chapter a night. Blair inspires keen empathy for each of his beautifully drawn characters. And creeping like rising water through the narrative is inexorable, omnipotent Fate, embodied in Iowa’s epic rains of 2008.  The reader can only cheer Joe and Deb on for keeping their noses above the flood. Witnessing their long reach for joy and normalcy in a cockeyed world gives me hope for the emotional lives of parents, yoked to the plow of childcare, and for star-crossed marriages everywhere. It’s a vivid, sometimes stark but gorgeously developed snapshot of love in perilous times.

And I adore the cover. I dreamt about that place last night; a fantastically beautiful and scary tornado came down out of that very cloud and I was trying to get my mother in the storm cellar of an old farmhouse and here comes this flock of bald eagles flying in formation like gulls and I'm on a train watching them and they settle on a bunch of abandoned boxcars and all I can do is smile and shout at the beauty of it all.

And that's what Joe Blair's writing does to me, even in my sleep.

Buy it. Read it. Share it. Wonder at it. Thank you.

You can order it here.

And you can find Joe Blair here. 

Stella Arrives!

I'd only had Mirabel for a few days when I got a Facebook message from our friend John in Marietta. It seems a bat had found its way into a bedroom and, after vacating the room, John returned in the morning to capture it. He didn't want to just put it outside as it was in the 30's, and he figured I'd know what to do.

I asked John to put it in a tight container with airflow, to put some soft cloth in with it for it to hide in, and to deliver it to Bill at Bird Watcher's Digest. Then called Bill to let him know there was a bat incoming.

And this was my first look at Stella Battista. Oh my darling, let me free you from that jar.

Clinging to a pair of black panties she was, a beautiful little gem of a bat. Quick check: a female. Now, once I put them together, how would I ever tell her from Mirabel Battista?

Well, Stella's a blonde! Where Mirabel has a black face and arms and ears, Stella's are pink. And Stella's fur is ever so much lighter, honey to Mirabel's mahogany.  Here's dark little Mirabel:

And here's Stella, the impetuous blonde. She's got a pretty set of batlips on her, don't she?

In the top photo, note Mirabel's robust claw, which is actually the nail of her first finger. Very important claw for clinging and locomotion.  Stella's claws were worn to  nubs and a little bloody, telling me that she might have been caught and struggling for some time, perhaps scrabbling against a plaster wall? Enough to wear those vital claws all the way down. Not good. She'd need time and rest and food to regrow the nails.

While Mirabel is self-feeding, it's not clear that Stella has the hang of it yet. Since bats eat in the still of the night, it's difficult to catch them at it. So the mealworms may disappear, but when you have two to worry about, you can't be sure that one bat isn't getting the whole load. They can be amazingly piggish, presented with a bowl full of mealworms. I'm talking fifty a night! I let it go for a few days, figuring that both were eating, but my gram scale told the story. Stella was losing weight, and Mirabel was gaining. So I started hand-feeding Stella again. After four days, I got them both to 20 grams, which is right where they should be for hibernating.

Feeding Stella is a pleasure. See those little worn-off claw nubs? Poor girl. She has a hard time climbing.

Stella was so hungry at her first hand-feeding after the three days she'd been fasting that if I didn't get a mealworm to her quickly enough she'd gnaw my glove!! Yipes!! Note to self: Buy new gloves. These are a bit beat, a little thin around the edges. I like West Country gloves the best for handling bats. Very pliable but also thick and protective.

Here's my little blonde beauty, all fed up and ready to scuttle back under her towel and cuddle with her new BFF, Mirabel.  They play Batty Stacky.

As I write, from a hotel room in New York, Bill's just taken the bats out to the detached, unheated garage to wait out my two-week trip to South Africa. Before taking that step, I did some calling around and got good information from the Organization for Bat Conservation, in the person of my friend, the dynamic and creative Rob Mies. 

Although the Ohio Wildlife Center had advised me that once a bat is warmed up and eating, it should be kept that way until the weather warms in spring, I got to thinking about that, and wondered if it was the right thing to do. Talking with Rob confirmed my suspicion that bats come in and out of torpor throughout the winter. According to Rob, bats hibernating as far north as Alberta come out and fly around in five degree weather! Grabbing a drink, changing roosts...nobody really knows. And these are healthy bats, not touched by white-nose syndrome, which is notorious for forcing bats out to forage in subfreezing temperatures.

Rob told me that he has sources dating back to the early 20th century documenting bat hibernation in captivity. Some people kept them all winter in cold temperatures without feeding them at all; some took them out once a month and fed and watered them, then put them back. And it struck me that there was no reason two bats in good weight couldn't go out in their screened tank to our unheated garage for a couple of weeks, where they'd be sheltered, but at a natural ambient temperature. One where they wouldn't need food. Because nobody handles bats in our house except me, because I'm the only one with the rabies shots. So either these bats were going to hibernate while I was gone, or they'd have to go to OWC. I picked A. Hibernate.

So I fed them up to the last minute and then, after a cold snap had passed, Bill cracked the window in their aviary open to let them cool down slowly, then transferred them to the garage. He left a bunch of mealworms and some water just in case. I'm eager to peel back the towels when I get home and see my little beauties. I'm thinking they'll be just fine, as nature intended. 

And they were. Both had been eating and drinking out in the garage while I was gone, and Bill put fresh food and water in as it disappeared. (The bats stay under their towel when you take the lid off the tank). Both were weighing in around 18 grams, just perfect for a hibernating big brown. I was elated that we'd found a natural way to keep them at more normal ambient temperatures, with food and water available as needed. They didn't eat as much as they did when they were all warmed up, but that's probably better for them in the long run. And man, were they frisky when I took them out to check on them, flapping their wings and trying to fly. 

South Africa was great. I just need time and world enough to edit fifty gazillion photos...kind of a busy spring around here.

Bat Cuteness, Extreme

Warning. Extreme bat cuteness to follow. Those who think they don't like bats especially need to watch this.  

In this little video, Mirabel is on her eighth large mealworm and she's getting full. Bats get this look on their face when they're satiated; they kind of settle back into themselves and that little pointed pink tongue lances out and they lick their chops. When the chop-licking starts, they're done.

I love this video because it really captures how sweet bats are, and it also captures their Marlena Dietrich-like need to be alone. They like darkness and seek it out. Prepare for the cuteness!

There is a very cool thing that happens in this video (aside from all the muzzlepuff licking) that I'm thrilled to have captured. I've noticed that when bats decide to change location, they literally turn on their radar. You can hear Mirabel do this when she raises her head and looks around at 1:35 in the video. Turn up the sound on your computer and listen for a low thrumming sound--that's Mirabel. I don't know if she's echolocating, but she's definitely sending out pulses, and it is most likely to help her orient as she crawls under the towel. Bats. What we don't know about them fills volumes.

Mirabel is by far the nicest bat I've cared for. She's quiet and docile and self-feeding; she doesn't cuss and gnash her teeth or musk me at all. She seems to know she's got it good, having been rescued from an inappropriate perch in a shopping center parking lot.

Here's the setup: a 20 gal. long tank with nonskid drawer liner taped to its sides. Fresh water and mealworms available at all times in low, bat-friendly bowls. After these photos were taken I had to tape every single gap in the drawer liner because Mirabel kept crawling in between the liner and the glass. You don't want them to be able to contact any glass at all, because they can break their fingertips if they beat their wings against it.

As you can see in the video, Mirabel is so tractable that I can let her rest on a towel while I service her tank.  I have the ideal place to keep her: Charlie's aviary, which I keep closed with sliding glass doors, so there will be no bat escapes! 

Creature love comes in many forms. It feels good to have someone to care for in that room again.

Soon, there would be another! Bats seem to come in twos. At least for me!