The Bats of Austin

I have spent the past 30 years travelling the world and have many stories to tell. For instance, Amtraking around America, in 2001, someone suggested that my friend and I should go to Austin to "see the bats". Austin, capital of Texas, was not far off our intended route and when told that bat watching was something of a tourist attraction there, we wanted to know more. In Austin we were directed to Congress Bridge, the "best place to see the bats," the hotel staff said.

The gathering began at 6.30 p.m. We bagged a spot on a grassy patch and spent some time peering up at the crevices under the bridge, which is where they slept, we'd been told. The smell was overpowering, but there were no bats to be seen. We filled in some time reading the information boards, where we learned that the bats of Austin eat many times their weight in mosquitoes each night. Bats, we were also pleased to learn, are not like mice with wings; they are mammals and belong to the order Ciroptera, meaning 'hand-wing'; their hands are their wings, we interpreted.

Family and tourist groups began arriving. More prepared than us, they spread blankets and unloaded picnic baskets and coolers. We munched on our apples and a chocolate bar and eyed (with envy) a pair of young lovers who sat down near us. No blanket or picnic basket for them; young love generates its own warmth and has no need of food.

The river ran silently on, sliding between treed banks. Canoeists glided effortlessly down-river and traffic criss-crossed the bridge, both seemingly oblivious of the gathering crowd. A cowboy strutted past; joggers jogged; and dogs, towing owners, strained madly at their leads, smelling bat stories. All ignored the growing crowd of onlookers.

Latecomers crowded at our back while others fought for space at the rails of the bridge overhead. The sun sank lower; the sky turned from blue to navy and we peered closely at the underside to the bridge, which was disappearing into the gloom of evening. Soon it would be too dark to see anything and we worried about bats coming out and tangling in our hair, but remembered reading that bats are not blind; they have excellent eyesight at night and can also 'see' with their ears by using echolocation. They send out high frequency sounds and listen for the reflected echoes, which enables them to navigate and to see everything but colour on the darkest night.

In peak times, we'd read, as many as a million bats fly off to eat their fill of mosquitoes. It was October and we had missed the peak time but were assured that there would still be hundreds of thousands to see. When we were aware of the sound of rushing wings we looked up but the lights at the back of the bridge had destroyed our night vision. Twisting our heads we finally saw that the bats had come out from the other side of the bridge.

Suddenly, it was double dusk, night multiplied, as the sky filled with small dark bat-bodies rushing to their feast. They were moving too fast for our cameras, and too swiftly for our eyes, but even if we hadn't seen them clearly, we had smelt, heard and felt the bats of Austin and we left Texas well satisfied with our little detour.

Learn more about this author, Trudy Graham.
Click here to send author comments or questions.

---

Add your voice

Know something about Memoirs: Traveling?
We want to hear your view. Write now!