New Hampshire Nature Notes
by Eric Orff
Dragon flies, mosquitos, crickets and bats....Oh my!
Wednesday 08/10/2005
The evening sky is so full of sights and sounds this week. From my perch on my deck overlooking the Suncook River the evening sky has filled with an assortment of dragon flies at dusk. So too has there been an unusual hatch of mosquitos simultaneously. There are large fields on either side of my house and the river which for the most part keeps the mosquitos away with a constant breeze. I rarely need to use any kind of repellant while outside in my yard or even on my afternoon hikes. Not so the last few days, as there has been swarms of mosquitos. I don't know what has delivered this bountiful crop to me. And I'm sure it would be a lot worse were it not for the legions of dragon flies scooping them from the air. Bats are dancing about the twilight sky as well feeding on the bounty. No doubt they are in their glory. I wish them well and wish they would devour more.
After all this is BAT Week in NH. For over twenty years I operated a wildlife control business, though I am essentially retired from it now. Year after year it was the last few days of July and always the first week of August that had my phone ringing day and night with "bat calls". It is this week that this years young, called pups, start feeding on their own. And as all youngsters tend to do, they make mistakes and end up downstairs in houses rather than follow their mother outside to feed. Also a week of 90 degree days when the nights, nor the attics, cool down causes bats to try to roost below the oppressive heat of the attic roof. This downward migration in the hot spell also brings even a adult bats into the living quarters. Perhaps this on slot of mosquitos is a perennial event that I have somehow missed in past years, but it is perfect timing for all these untested juvenile wings who must learn quickly to feed themselves or die. This year I think it is even more important as the cold wet late May into June probably slowed the development of the pups so they are about a week later than usual leaving the roost to feed for the first time. Bat young are "poikiothermic" that is their body temperature is the same as their surroundings, like a frog. So the hotter the attic the better they grow. A cool spring will slow their growth. I did get a few reports of dead bats in roosts this spring. My guess is the cold temperatures made the search of insects by mother bats difficult. Without sufficient feed the females didn't produce enough milk for their pups and many died. I think will likely have a dip in juvenile bat numbers this year.
I did get out for an evening fire/walk with my neighbor and life long friend Rick. He wasn't answering his phone so I knew he was down on his deck along the Suncook. Where he spends most sunsets, or on the river in his kayak. The sun had set by the time I had a chance to get down. Venus was just disappearing on the western horizon. Crickets abounded with their calls all night long. We enjoyed his fire a bit, then began our usual night hike to discover what we could. In the mile plus between his house and mine the crickets were practically deafening. Walking south from my house in one of our trips I could hear distinct difference in the calls of the crickets off to the west along the field. They called the more typical summer sound of crickets. But to the east, towards the pines, a higher pitched sonnet could be picked out of the still warm night air. Almost more like spring peepers. There were occasional extraneous unidentified insect chirps mixed in as well.
We took a break from walking to study the sky as I saw two falling stars, north to south, in quick succession. Between 11 and midnight we saw 15 total. Only one of which did we both see. Even though he was watching from only about 15 feet way he had a totally different view the same sky we both looked up at. At that late hour we saw no satellites. It was so easy staying immersed in the warm summer night air that time passed too quickly. A check of my watch showed it to be well past midnight when we wheeled to turn to cover the distance to our respective homes.
