a bat trapped inside

a bat trapped inside 

echolocates its way to

the open window

Friday the thirteenth, a time of new beginnings. Playing the Maya turtle ocarina finally brought rain today, a soft, soaking, spring rain. Standing in the kitchen early this morning, looking out at the saturated hues of green, I catch something dark falling down on the other side of the window. A leaf? But it seems to be inside the sun room, not outside. I open the sliding glass door and immediately a small winged creature begins fluttering back and forth the length of the sun room. A bird? No, the movements are too quick. A bat then. 
          But how did it get in? All the windows are closed. Thinking fairly quickly for this early, I go out on the porch, remove the screen from one of the windows on the east end and open the window. The bat flies toward the windows but lands just above the closed window, clinging to the wooden frame. With a broom I gently coax the bat to start flying again, but it keeps missing the open window. Getting the message, I crank the other window open wide and this time the bat echolocates the opening and swoops out. Now we're wondering if the sounds we've been hearing above our heads are not squirrels or mice but a colony of bats that have been wintering between the roof and the ceiling. But how did this one get into the downstairs sun room?
          Bats are mysterious, but also beautiful and useful. I have always loved watching their graceful acrobatic flight on warm evenings as they catch enormous quantities of harmful insects, consuming a third of their body weight in half an hour. Coincidentally, this year is the Year of the Bat, as proclaimed by Bat Conservation International, and this week, 9-12 April, is Bat Awareness and Appreciation Week. I'm right in tune with the times, my early morning experience making me aware and also appreciative of bats, whether in or around our home.
          Bats continue to be in the news because of the threat of white-nose syndrome, a cold-loving fungus that has killed at least one million hibernating North American bats in the Northeast since 2006 and is spreading westward. In the rain-dark light this morning, I didn't notice whether our bat had a white nose. If it did hibernate in our house, it would certainly have been warmer than in a cave or one of the bat houses we have attached to our sheds. However, I will report our errant bat to the Iowa Department of Natural Resources, which is collecting information about unusual behavior in bats in the early spring when they emerge from hibernation, such as difficulty flying and flying during the daytime. Our little bat seemed to be flying normally and I'm sure it was flying in the daytime only because we disturbed its sleep.
          My other concern for the bats is our new wind turbine because a number of bat deaths have been reported under wind turbines. Researchers have found that the majority of bats were killed because a sudden drop in air pressure near blades caused injuries to the bats' lungs, called barotrauma. Respiratory systems in birds can withstand such drops but bat lungs cannot. Fortunately, scientists have shown that slowing turbine blades to near motionless in low-wind periods significantly reduces bat mortality. This makes sense because bats don't like to fly when it's really windy, which is when the turbines are reaping the most energy. So this system would be a boon for both bats and the production of energy from the wind. Hurray!

a woodchuck shucking

a woodchuck shucking

acorns under an oak tree,

fattening for winter

     When I stop to visit my son who lives in town, a woodchuck is sitting on its haunches under an oak tree, shucking an acorn held in its paws, using its two sharp incisors to peel off the shell to get at the kernel. It doesn't stop when I get out and take its photo. I can almost hear it saying, "If you want an autograph, you'll have to wait until I'm done chowing down here." I have also observed a woodchuck gnawing the hard-shelled, oily shagbark hickory nuts so plentiful right now in our yard. However, unlike squirrels, they don't squirrel away nuts for the winter. This is because woodchucks don't eat in the winter. Instead, they hibernate from autumn to spring in a burrow dug below the frost line. During this time they can slow their breathing down to one breath per minute and their heart rate to four beats per minute, and they can lower their body temperature to conserve energy. This fellow is gorging on acorns to put on enough fat to last for seven or eight months. When it emerges in the spring, it has enough fat left until warmer weather produces the plant material that forms its main diet.
     With its short ears and legs, the woodchuck looks like a fat squirrel with a short tail or a beaver with a fluffy tail. This large rodent (Marmota monax) is also called groundhog, whistle-pig or land-beaver. It is actually a member of the ground squirrel family known as marmots. Unlike other marmots, who live in the mountains, the woodchuck lives in lowlands. But like its cousins, the groundhog likes to burrow, using its thick, curved claws to excavate tunnels and a burrow for sleeping, rearing young and hibernating. The nest chamber is lined with grasses, and there is another chamber for excrement. They can dig five feet down and thirty feet long, and move an enormous amount of dirt when digging a burrow. 
     We have a running battle with a series of groundhogs who have been undermining the gravel foundations of our house, workshop and garden shed. Catching them is tricky because, being mainly herbivores, they have plenty of food all around. We place a stick at what appears to be the main entrance, a round hole marked by a pile of gravel in front. At nightfall, we go back to see if the stick has been moved, which tells us that the groundhog is in its burrow. Then we cover the hole with the open end of a live trap and stake the wire cage down firmly. We also block any other escape holes we find. In the morning, when the groundhog exits the burrow, it trips the gate and gets caught in the trap. Then we take the woodchuck to Turkey Run, the nearest wildlife preserve, and let it go. 
     Woodchucks are usually solitary animals. The male will visit a female in her burrow for mating, but then return to his own burrow. If the burrow is abandoned, another groundhog may move in, or it may be used by red foxes, raccoons, striped skunks, cottontail rabbits or snakes.
     Like squirrels and prairie dogs, groundhogs will stand on their hind feet to watch for danger. When alarmed they will whistle to alert their fellows, hence the name whistle-pig. They also squeal when frightened and the hair on their tails sticks up, making it look bushier. Their primary foes in this area are coyotes, foxes, raccoons, dogs, hawks, owls and vehicles. To escape, they are able to climb trees or swim, but prefer to dive into their burrow.
     The name woodchuck is derived from wuchak, the Algonquian name for the animal. The similarity to "woodchuck" led to the familiar tongue-twister that I grew up with:
     How much wood would a woodchuck chuck
          if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
     A woodchuck would chuck all the wood he could
          if a woodchuck could chuck wood!