This commentary is by Rollie Kielman of Burlington.
Chances are, if you mention “dark basement” and “bats” in the same sentence, you’re bound to get a wide-eyed glance in return. This is how my December started: A simple text from my wife: “Yoooooo, we have bats!!!”
As the first snow swept through the Champlain Valley, a weatherization project at my home unearthed bats hibernating under the old fiberglass insulation coating the walls of my basement. My first thought was probably what most people wonder: how the heck do I get rid of them?
This question led me into the brilliant, warm heart of bat culture here in Vermont.
My first call was to Pete Lossmann at Bats in the Belfry, one of the bat removal experts recommended by the Vermont Department of Fish & Wildlife (which has excellent resources for how to manage bats in your home). I wanted to talk to him about what Google called “exclusion” — essentially sealing up your home so bats can get out, but not back in.
The problem was, Pete didn’t think that was the right move, at least not now with winter upon us. They’d simply die out there in the cold, and he didn’t want that. We were dealing with big brown bats, one of nine bat species living in Vermont, five of which are threatened or endangered. It was important to keep them safe. So, he told me something unexpected: “Box them up and call Barry.”
By Barry he meant Barry Genzlinger, a licensed bat rehabilitator and founder of the Vermont Bat Center, which operates an artificial cave of sorts where bats can overwinter safely.
Barry picked up the phone on the second ring and was eager to hear about my dilemma. He laughed as he explained how I should approach the bats and safely capture them.
Later that day, I found myself creeping through the most remote recesses of my home with my two young contractors, searching for the tiny creatures, wondering when one would swoop out of the darkness and into my face. One of the workers, admittedly terrified of bats, said one got away by scurrying across the paint can shelves.
It was like a demon, he said. Bats are too often paired with abject terror.
I finally saw the escaped bat, resting on the concrete floor, nestled behind a small piece of discarded insulation. Gently covering it with a dishcloth, I scooped it up and plopped him into a cardboard box, just like Barry told me to do. I noticed a small metal band on one of its legs, so I called Barry.
“OHHH, that’s a big one!” he cried. “That bat has been with me before, and I’d love to see them again.”
I went to bed that night smiling at the thought of his parent-like joy and his willingness to meet me the following morning at a gas station outside Milton, where we’d make the bat handoff. I was genuinely sad when it was over and secretly hopeful that someday soon I’ll find more bats.
The next morning, I received the following note from Barry:
“In November of 2017 we rescued (the same) bat that was found lying on the sidewalk on Prospect Street in Burlington. She was in grave condition, dehydrated and cold. She was nursed back to health and spent the winter with us in our hibernation area. In May of 2018 she was banded and released in Milton, along with seven other bats that had spent the winter with us.”
In the seven years since her first rescue, our bat had traveled the 15 miles back to Burlington to set up a cozy home in my basement, just around the corner from where she was first found.
With so much dreary news, it warms my heart that people like Barry, Pete and so many others are out there doing everything they can to care for these often-maligned mammals. My mother is one of those people, putting up bat houses on the edge of her garden and roaming the woods at night counting bats. It’s one of my favorite things about her.
So, this holiday season, if you have an encounter with a bat, do yourself a favor and travel into the wonderful world of bat lovers. Or better yet, make a donation — you won’t be disappointed.
