The author examines a big brown bat.
NORTHEASTERN MISSOURI – The sun just dipped below the horizon and the warm early spring air mixes with the stone-chilled currents flowing out of the mine entrances. The nets are all hung and now we are just waiting for the bats to show up. This is my first mist-netting trip, but I have been warned this will not be a typical experience.
Researchers hang a mist net early in the evening.
My colleagues and I have teamed up with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to conduct a population genomics assessment on the endangered Indiana bats that roost in this mine. But we’re not alone. Because this species is rare and opportunities for study are limited, we are sharing our workspace with the U.S. Forest Service, the Missouri Bat Census and several other academics, agencies and conservation groups. Everyone here has their own priorities, research questions and objectives, but we all share a common goal: protecting these special animals.
A recently released bat wants to hang out for a bit.
White-nose syndrome, a lethal and devastating fungal disease, is a constant threat to bats, so we take standard precautions, like wearing protective jumpsuits and following strict decontamination protocols to avoid spreading the infection. We also must take care not to spread COVID-19 to these endangered animals. In addition to being tested through the university’s SHIELD program, we were trained and fitted for N-95 respirators. My grandmother is very anxious about me getting sick from these stigmatized animals, but I am far more concerned about spreading disease to their already dwindling populations.
From left, Illinois Natural History mammologist Jocelyn Karsk, graduate student Sarah Gaulke, graduate student Jordyn Chace and INHS mammologist Brittany Rogness are suited up for the evening.
Illinois Natural History Survey mammologist Brittany Rogness leads our team. She has been on the hunt for Indiana bats for more than three years, and tonight they fill the twilight sky above us. I can tell from my colleagues’ energy that this is a momentous night.
My role this evening is at the processing table. Bats are now emerging from the mouths of the mine and a few are caught in our mist nets. Handlers gently remove the suspended bats from the gossamer-fine nets and place each one in a paper bag to keep it calm, safe and secure. Runners bring the bags to me at the processing table.
Experts like Rogness have years of experience handling these delicate creatures. She carefully examines each bat to identify the species and assess its size, weight, sex and health status. I jot it all down on the data sheet.
A released big brown bat, Eptesicus fuscus, clings to a tree.
If everything looks good, Rogness stretches out one wing and I press a small biopsy punch into the wing to take a tiny sample of tissue. The bat’s wing will quickly heal, but this little bit of tissue is essential to our work.
Sarah Gaulke and Brittany Rogness take a tissue sample.
After a quick “thank you” to the bat, we release it. They are free to fly into the night and grab a bug snack for the road.
With all the intimidation and preparation leading up to this night, I had built the bats up to be something dramatic – even fearsome – in my mind, but sitting there in my hand, the bats are smaller and sweeter than I anticipated. They are fuzzy.
Once I plop the sample into its ethanol-filled test tube, I quickly decontaminate every surface on our worktable and we change our gloves. We are very careful to keep everything clean for every bat that visits our station.
Sarah Gaulke holds a big brown bat, Eptesicus fuscus.
Planning for this night, I optimistically prepared 350 test tubes to hold our samples, but I never thought we would collect more than 50. At the end of the trip, we have collected nearly 200 tissue samples – an undeniable success.
I have been training in population genomics, and now with all these samples in hand there are so many questions we can ask and answer about the population in this mine. Modern conservation biology requires gathering as much pertinent data as possible and quickly learning from it to make fast and effective conservation decisions. Conservation genomics gives us a toolkit to learn about populations after just a few nights of data collection, compared with traditional surveying that can take years of observation.
Graduate student Sarah Gaulke and Illinois Natural History Survey mammologist Brittany Rogness in their evening gear.
In the INHS Collaborative Ecological Genetics Lab, I will work with my team to understand the population structure of these bats. If we see that this hibernaculum is well-mixed with the populations around it and genetically diverse, we can advise very different conservation plans than if it is more genetically isolated.
The night is at an end, and I look around me one last time to take it all in. My friends look like aliens in their white suits with bright headlamps obscuring their faces. In fact, the whole night was a little alien, pushing me way outside my COVID-19-era comfort zone to do something totally new to me, but I can say in all honesty that I can’t wait to do it again.
Editor’s notes:
To learn more about bats and ways to contribute to their conservation in Illinois, visit www.illinoisbats.org.
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