NOCTULE, OR GREAT BAT. 



Ill 



insects, and return in a couple of hours and hang to the window-sill, or to the sash, until 

 admitted. At night, it would sometimes fasten in my hair, but never went near my mother 

 • or the servants. It did not seem to experience any inconvenience from the loss of its foot, 

 and continued a great favorite for more than two years. I suppose the heat of my room 

 prevented its becoming torpid in winter, though certainly it never prowled about as it used to 

 do in spring and summer ; I do not think it ate in winter, but of this I cannot be certain. It 

 disappeared altogether at last, falling a prey, I believe, to some white owls, who held time- 

 honored possession of an old belfry. I was very sorry for my bat, and should be glad to culti- 

 vate the intellect and affections of another, if I had the opportunity." 



It is curious, by the way, to mark the analogy that exists between the swallows and bats. 



NOCTULE, OR GREAT BAT.— Vespemgo noctvla. 



Each of these groups loves the air, and is mostly seen on the wing. Their food consists of the 

 flying insects, which they chase by their exquisite command of wing ; and it will be noticed 

 that, as soon as the swallows retire to rest at dusk, after clearing the air of the diurnal insects, 

 the bats issue from their homes, and take up the work, performing the same task with the 

 insects of night, as the birds with those of day. Then, as the dawn breaks, out come the 

 swallows again, and so they fulfil their alternate duties. 



The Noctttle is not so pleasant a companion as the Long-eared Bat, for it gives forth a 

 most unpleasant odor. Its cry is sharp and piercing, thereby producing another analogy with 

 the swifts, which are popularly known by the name of " Jacky-screamers." 



The voice of all bats is singularly acute, and can be tolerably imitated by the squeaking 

 sound which is produced by scraping two keys against each other. There are many people 

 whose ears are not sensible to the shrill cry of these animals — which, in some cases, is rather 

 fortunate for them. I well remember being on a heath, one summer's evening, when the air 

 was crowded with bats hawking after flies, and their myriad screams were so oppressive, that 

 I longed for temporary deafness. Yet my companion — an accomplished musician — was per- 



