52 
JOURNAL OF MAMMALOGY 
GENERAL NOTES 
A ROVING BAND OF SAY’s BATS 
On the 12th day of July, 1912, my little daughter came to say that there were 
a lot of strange animals in the roof of our porch. I found they were bats, a whole 
row of them, thirty-two in number, in a long opening under the eaves, heads out, 
apparently looking at us. All seemed to be the same size, and yet two, which 
fell down, could scarcely fly. I had to help them up again to the place. These 
two were undoubtedly Myotis subulatus, the long antitragus being very well 
marked, and I am satisfied that all the rest were of this species. The one I 
handled uttered a peculiar “chik, chik, chik” while I held it. All dodged back 
out of sight when I went too close. On the floor below were a number of pellets. 
These I gathered up and sent to the Biological Survey for examination. That 
night the bats were very busy around the porch. Next morning all were gone 
and have never been there since. I have not the slightest reason to suppose 
that they ever were there before. I do not know of any bat colony in the neigh- 
borhood. It seems to me that this incident points to a hitherto unsuspected 
habit of roaming in bands during the summertime. 
The pellets according to report of the Biological Survey ‘‘contained the 
remains of numerous Diptera, several spiders, a scarabseoid beetle and one 
cuckoo-fly (Hymenoptera) Chrysis sp.” — Ernest Thompson Seton, Greenwich, 
Conn. 
THE BROWN BAT ACTIVE IN WINTER AT WASHINGTON, D. C. 
One of our more severe winter days in Washington, D. C., was February 5, 
1917. The temperature at noon was 10°F., the atmosphere clear, but the wind 
high, blustering, and penetrating. At 1 : 25 p.m. I noticed a brown bat {Eptesicus 
fuscus fuscus) flying past a window at the west end of the new National Museum. 
It alighted on a narrow ledge in a cornice, 9 feet above ground, on the north wall 
of the extreme west wing (freight entrance) of the museum. Here it was exposed 
to the full blast of the cold wind from which it was apparently suffering intensely. 
It would remain still a moment, hunched up with the wing membrane protecting 
its side. Then it would run along the ledge 2 or 3 feet and rest again. These 
actions continued for about 8 minutes, when it flew to the ground and alighted 
on a cement sidewalk about 20 feet from its former resting place on the wall. A 
few minutes later I rescued it from the pavement. It was now in a semi-dormant 
condition, showed none of its bat-like pugnacity, and evidently would have 
died soon from exposure. I brought it into the museum w’here the warmth almost 
instantly revived it. Released, it flew about the ofiice for about 5 minutes, 
frequently testing the wall for a favorable place to alight. It finally settled at 
the edge of the ceiling where it hung by its pollical claw from a crack between the 
ceiling and wall. 
While the bat was flying about the room, its form, outlined against the white 
walls, tempted me to count the wing beats. I was surprised that, in several 
counts, they averaged 280 per minute. — Hartley H. T. Jackson, U. S. Bio- 
logical Survey, Washington, D. C. 
