Dusk on the campsite. It’s a time for sipping wine, tending the fire and wondering at exactly what point the children will crash out.
Bats swoop overhead, silhouetted against the darkening sky. I can make out pipistrelles, a few noctules and a lone long-eared bat, shaped like a Halloween decoration. Their wings are whisper-thin, affording them the seemingly impossible ability to change direction in an instant and to fly at speed with wheeling agility.
Last year, I borrowed a bat detector to take part in a survey of my local area. I erected a microphone on a two-metre pole attached to ...
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