WHISKERED BAT IN CAPTIVITY. 51 



it no inconvenience, for it used to sit, supported on feet and 

 wrists, eating mealworms within a few inches of the flame, and 

 never showed any desire to retire to dark or shaded places. 

 Sometimes it would creep under my hand, or up my sleeve, but 

 this, I think, was od account of the sensation of warmth it expe- 

 rienced in nestling against my skin 



The sense of sight seems to be but feeble in the Whiskered 

 Bat. The example under notice could not see, or at all events 

 recognize, a mealworm or wet paint-brush if more than an inch 

 from its face. As this species is more diurnal than any other 

 British Bat, and may frequently be seen abroad at midday in 

 summer, the inability of my captive to see objects an inch away 

 cannot be attributed to the dazzling effects of too strong a light, 

 especially as this inability existed equally in the daytime and in 

 the artificial light of a lamp. Its hearing also appeared to be 

 dull, as it never showed by any movement of its head that it 

 perceived a sudden noise, such as the snapping of my fingers, or 

 the click of a watch-lid being closed. It sometimes slept prone 

 upon the floor with wings folded and pressed closely to its sides, 

 at other times suspended by its toes to the rim of a wooden box. 

 During sleep, which was always profound, its temperature fell 

 considerably, and it felt, as all Bats do in this state, extremely 

 cold. It usually wakened in the evening, but exceptionally in the 

 daytime without being roused ; while, as a rule, it was necessary 

 to warm it into activity by holding it for a minute or two in my 

 hand if I wanted to feed it by daylight. It was constantly thirsty, 

 and would readily lap milk or water even when not sufficiently 

 roused from sleep to seize food. Its voice, often used, was a 

 feeble squeak, less shrill than that of the Long-eared Bat. 



My captive used to tuck its head away under its body directly 

 it had seized an insect, at the same time bringing its feet forward, 

 so far indeed that it sometimes lost its balance and toppled 

 over on its back. This habit, practised from the very first, 

 was evidently one of old standing, and not a trick acquired in 

 confinement. By feeding the Bat on a sheet of glass so that I 

 could see it from beneath, or, better still, by giving it an insect 

 as it hung suspended by its toes, the reason of its action was at 

 once apparent. The tail being directed forward beneath the 

 body, the interfemoral membrane formed a pouch into which the 



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