Bats in Trouble Page 2

  Chapter Five

  The next day the girls walked out to the turbine after lunch. The wind had died down a bit but was still blowing enough to keep the blades spinning quickly. The long grass rippled with the gusts like waves on the ocean. The girls split up to walk around the base of the turbine, searching for bats.

  “I haven’t found a single one, not even the dead ones we saw yesterday,” Cricket called to Shilo. “Have you?”

  Shilo looked up. “Nope. Look, somebody’s coming.”

  Cricket turned to see a white pickup truck driving up the gravel road. As it got closer she could see an energy-company logo on the door. When it stopped, a woman in blue coveralls got out.

  “Hello there! What are you girls doing out here? You really shouldn’t play around the turbine.”

  “Oh, we’re not playing,” Shilo said. “We’re looking for bats.”

  The woman looked surprised.

  “Not flying bats—dead ones,” Cricket explained. “We found a bunch on the ground yesterday morning and wanted to see if there would be more today.”

  “Really?” The woman still looked surprised. “And are there any?”

  Cricket shook her head. “We think they were hoary bats, but we can’t figure out what killed them.”

  “And the ones we found yesterday are gone,” Shilo said.

  “Well, there are lots of scavengers around that might have taken them,” the woman said. “But you haven’t found any today?”

  “We didn’t see any bats at all last night. It was really windy, and the turbine was spinning like crazy,” Cricket said.

  The woman dug into her pocket and pulled out a business card. “Tell you what. Why don’t you let me know if you find any more dead bats,” she said. “My name’s Grace Lee, and my email is right there on the card. It’s my job to monitor these turbines.”

  Cricket nodded. “Thanks. I’m Cricket, and this is Shilo. This is my grandpa’s farm.”

  “Nice to meet you girls. Cute dog.” She nodded at Cooper, who was in his usual spot. He stood up and wagged his tail as they all turned to look at him.

  “He’s smart too. Remember, it’s best not to get too close to the turbine.” She climbed back into her truck and waved as she turned around toward the gate.

  Cricket frowned. “She seemed surprised about the bats. We need to figure out what’s killing them—and I really hope it’s not the turbine.”

  Later that afternoon the girls sat on the porch, bored and worried. It was good that they didn’t find any dead bats, but why didn’t they? Was Tyler right—did the bats fly higher when it was windier? Was it because they could avoid the turbine easier when it was spinning faster? That didn’t make sense.

  “Do you girls need something to do?” Cricket’s grandma held the back door open. “Why don’t you come inside? I’m making cookies.”

  Shilo jumped up. “All right!”

  As the girls walked into the kitchen, Grandma McKay pointed to the table. “There’s a little project for you while the cookies are baking.”

  Cricket picked up the book and looked at Shilo. “Origami?”

  Shilo shrugged. She picked up a sheet of paper from the stack on the table. It was square and very thin, almost like tissue paper. “Isn’t that Japanese?”

  “Yup, Japanese paper folding. Look, here’s instructions on how to make a frog or a paper crane.”

  Shilo looked over Cricket’s shoulder as she flipped through the book. “Hey, there’s a bat!”

  “It doesn’t look too tricky,” Cricket said.

  The girls sat down and began following the instructions, step by step. By the time Cricket’s grandma put a plate of cookies on the table, they had made almost a dozen colorful paper bats.

  Tyler appeared in the doorway. “Do I smell cookies?”

  Cricket rolled her eyes, and Shilo giggled.

  “Are you guys going into town with us?” Tyler asked. “Grandpa’s going to register for the parade.”

  “Sure!” Shilo grabbed her hat, ready to go. “Thanks for the cookies, Mrs. McKay!”

  Cricket looked out the truck window as they drove into town. She liked watching for wildlife and was usually the first one to spot a deer or coyote. Once she’d even seen a mother moose and calf strolling through a field. Today the wind turbines caught her eye. They marched across the hills in rows, like tall white soldiers.

  Cricket frowned. The wind had died down completely. The summer heat had settled in, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky—so why were the blades of the turbines still spinning?

  “Grandpa, do you think those turbines are making any power? They’re turning so slowly.”

  “I really don’t know, Cricket. You’ll have to ask the power company about that.”

  She looked at Tyler, and he shrugged. “I don’t know either,” he said.

  “I would think they’d just stop if there was no wind,” Shilo said, “but maybe someone has to turn them off.”

  Cricket nodded. “So why don’t they?”

  Chapter Six

  The next afternoon the girls and Cooper headed out to the back pasture again. Tyler stayed behind to help Grandpa polish his truck. Grandpa planned to drive a real antique in the parade on Saturday—the truck his grandpa had driven more than ninety years earlier. It was red, with the farm brand, in faded yellow paint on the doors.

  “It looks like the turbine lady is here again,” Shilo said. The energy-company pickup truck was parked near the base of the turbine, and Ms. Lee was using the radio.

  “And what is all that?” Cricket was looking at a stack of enormous white pipes next to the fence. “Those weren’t here yesterday.”

  “They look like the bases for the wind turbines,” Shilo said. “You don’t think they’re planning on building more of them here, do you?”

  Ms. Lee waved to the girls as she got out of the truck. “Let’s go ask,” Cricket said.

  As they walked over to the truck, Cricket almost missed the small brown lump lying in the grass. Then Shilo found another—and another.

  “It happened again!” Cricket said, using her shoe to roll the bat over. “It’s just like the other ones.”

  “What did you find, girls? What’s just like the others?” Ms. Lee approached them with a look of concern on her face.

  Cricket stood up. “There are more dead bats,” she said.

  “Lots of them,” Shilo added. “At least five right here.”

  Ms. Lee frowned and crouched down to study the tiny bat. She took a pen out of a pocket of her coveralls and spread out its wings. “Do they all look like this?” she asked.

  The girls nodded.

  “The turbines were turning really slowly last night,” Cricket said. “Do they make any power when they turn so slowly?”

  “Not much, but when the wind picks up, they can start generating more power right away, without waiting for me to turn them on. I’m sure you girls know how quickly the weather can change here in southern Alberta.”

  “Well, it seems like the bats run into them when they’re barely turning but not when they’re spinning fast,” Shilo said.

  Ms. Lee looked up at the blades of the turbine. They had picked up speed as the wind started to blow harder. “We didn’t find any dead bats earlier in the summer,” she said.

  “My grandpa says they are migrating right now. They’re flying through here on their way to Arizona and Mexico,” Cricket said.

  Ms. Lee put the pen back in her pocket. “Thanks for showing me this, girls. I’ve got to get back to work now.” She turned and started to walk back to her truck.

  “Wait! What are all those for? Are you building more turbines here?” Cricket pointed to the huge stack of metal tubes.

  “Yes, six more Vestas V80s. Construction starts next week.”

  The girls watched Ms. Lee turn her truck around and drive away. They looked at each other in dismay.

  “Why would they do that, right in the middle of the migration?” Cricket said.<
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  “I bet they just don’t know.” Shilo pulled her hat down tight. The wind was gusting stronger, and the turbines had really picked up speed.

  Cooper gave a high-pitched yip. He was standing up, watching the girls closely. He wagged his tail as they walked toward him, then squeezed in between them.

  “What’s up with him?” Shilo asked. “Why isn’t he chasing ground squirrels?”

  Cricket looked around. There were no ground squirrels. No furry heads popped out of burrows. No little black eyes watched them as they walked through the grass. Then she looked up.

  “Uh-oh.” Huge dark rain clouds rolled toward them. The clouds blocked out the sun. The air felt cooler as it whipped through the grass.

  Shilo gasped. “Is it a tornado?”

  “No,” Cricket said. “It just looks like a really bad rainstorm. Maybe even hail.”

  They started to jog. Giant drops of rain began to fall.

  “We aren’t going to make it back to the house!”

  Cricket looked around. “Come on! The old hay shed is right over there.”

  Chapter Seven

  The girls sprinted through the rain. They had almost reached the hay shed when the rain turned to chunks of ice. The hail pummeled them, bouncing off their shoulders and heads.

  “Ouch!” Shilo tried to cover her head with her arms as she ran. Cooper streaked ahead to the shed.

  Cricket pulled open the wooden door. It was dark and musty inside the shed. She stepped in, then turned around. Shilo was frozen in the doorway.

  “Come on, Shilo!” Cricket yelled. Hailstones pounded on the roof of the shed. The roar got louder. The hail dropped like a curtain of ice.

  Shilo yelped and jumped inside.

  Cricket closed the door partway to block the wind. She shook her hair, and bits of ice went flying into the darkness. She wiped her face with her sleeve.

  Shilo knelt down to brush bits of ice from Cooper’s fur. She looked up at Cricket and her eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open.

  “What?” Cricket’s voice was drowned out by the noise of the hail on the shed roof. Shilo pointed over her shoulder.

  Cricket looked up. Hundreds of eyes looked back at her. She gasped and dropped to the floor beside Shilo and Cooper.

  Bats! Hundreds of bats hung from the rafters of the shed. They were all wide-awake, watching the girls and shifting restlessly. But none of them flew away. None of them attacked.

  Shilo slowly reached out to grab Cricket’s hand. She was trembling. It was hard not to panic, stuck in the dark with hundreds of bats!

  Cricket squeezed her hand and pulled her over to the wall. The girls sat there, listening to the storm. Cooper sat next to Shilo and leaned against her, panting.

  Cricket watched the bats watching her. They’re so small, she thought, and brown. She studied them more closely. Where was the yellow marking? Why were these bats completely brown?

  She leaned close to Shilo. “These are different bats!” she whispered.

  “What?” Shilo mouthed.

  Cricket pointed, but Shilo shook her head and frowned. It was impossible to talk while the storm roared outside.

  After a few minutes the wind seemed to die down. The hail was falling less sharply on the roof. It sounded more like steady rain.

  Cricket peeked out the door. “It’s almost over,” she said.

  Shilo nodded. She didn’t take her eyes off the bats, watching for any sign of attack.

  “Hey! I see some headlights!” Cricket opened the door wide. “It’s Grandpa!”

  Shilo inched her way along the wall and out the door. The rain was slowing, and the sky was getting brighter.

  “How did you find us, Grandpa?” Cricket asked as they climbed into the truck beside him. Cooper jumped into the backseat.

  “I figured you girls would take shelter. It’s a good thing I haven’t torn down that old hay shed yet.”

  “You can’t tear it down, Grandpa! The bats will have nowhere to go.”

  Shilo shuddered. “There’s hundreds of them in there.”

  Grandpa McKay looked at them in surprise. “Really?”

  “But they aren’t the same as the ones we found by the turbines,” Cricket said. “They’re much smaller and don’t look frosted. They’re completely brown.”

  “That makes sense. Hoary bats roost in trees, not buildings,” Grandpa McKay said as he turned the truck around and headed for home. “You must have found a colony of little brown bats. They’ve probably been living in the shed all summer.”

  “But it’s dark now,” Cricket said. “Why haven’t they left the shed?”

  “No bats like to fly in the wind, and they definitely won’t fly in a storm like this.”

  “Do you think that’s why we didn’t find any dead bats under the turbine yesterday? Because it was too windy for them?” Cricket asked.

  Her grandpa nodded. “Most likely.”

  “So if it’s really windy, the turbines make lots of power—”

  “But that’s okay, because there’s no bats,” Shilo added.

  “And when it’s not windy enough to make much power, it’s perfect conditions for the bats to migrate—”

  “So the power company should just turn the turbines off!”

  “We need to let Ms. Lee know! Maybe she can turn the turbines off during the migration,” Cricket said.

  Chapter Eight

  Before they went to bed that night, Cricket found Ms. Lee’s business card in her backpack and wrote her an email.

  “Be sure to tell her our idea about turning off the turbines just while the bats are migrating,” Shilo said as she peered over Cricket’s shoulder.

  “You could add that the efficiency of the turbines drops a lot as the wind slows,” Tyler added. “In fact, if the wind slows to half the optimum speed, the turbine’s efficiency is reduced by a factor of eight. It makes almost no power at such a slow speed.”

  The girls looked at him, then looked at each other.

  “Um, Ms. Lee monitors the turbines,” Cricket said. “I’m sure she knows all that technical stuff.”

  “Do you think she knows the hoary bats’ migration could last a couple of weeks?”

  “That’s good. I’ll include that.”

  Cricket finished typing, made a silent wish and sent the email.

  The next morning there was no reply from Ms. Lee.

  “Don’t let that get you down, girls,” Grandma McKay said as they sat down for breakfast.

  “I expect the power company gets lots of emails with questions and petitions from farmers and ranchers about those turbines.” Grandpa McKay helped himself to a warm blueberry muffin.

  “Maybe that’s what we need—a petition to stop the turbines,” Shilo said.

  Cricket thought about that as she chewed on a piece of bacon. “That would take too long,” she said.

  “Be patient, girls.” Grandma McKay winked at Cricket. “Sometimes people can surprise you.”

  Patience was going to be difficult. Cricket was worried about the bat migration right now.

  Grandpa McKay dusted muffin crumbs off his shirt and went out to finish polishing the truck while the girls helped Grandma clean up. Shilo was curious—and excited—about the parade, asking all kinds of questions while she dried the dishes. But Cricket dried the same plate three times, distracted by the bat problem. What could they do to help? Maybe they could tell more people about the bats. Not with a petition. But how?

  “So what do you think, Cricket?”

  “What? About what?”

  Shilo rolled her eyes. “Earth to Cricket! We were talking about the parade, of course.”

  The parade! Cricket’s mind started jumping with ideas. Maybe they could do something in the parade!

  “Uh-oh,” Shilo said. “I think she’s got an idea.”

  The girls spent the rest of the day making plans for the parade. They gathered poster paper, markers, black tape and garbage bags. Grandpa agreed to let one of them ride i
n the back of the truck during the parade, and even Tyler got excited when he heard their plan.

  “I’ve got a great idea! Can I build something for the back of the truck?” he asked.

  “Sure, but—” Cricket said.

  Tyler was already heading out the door. “It’ll be a surprise,” he called over his shoulder. “You’re going to love it!”

  Shilo looked at Cricket and laughed. “He didn’t even hear about his costume! Do you think he’ll do it?”

  “If we have enough cookies, Tyler will do anything.”

  Chapter Nine

  Early the next morning Grandma McKay drove the kids into town to meet Grandpa. Shilo yawned for the sixth time.

  “How late did you girls work last night?” Grandma McKay asked.

  Cricket settled an enormous stuffed garbage bag on her lap. “Um, not too late.”

  “Just long enough to make two hun—”

  Cricket poked Shilo with her elbow. “Are you going to watch the parade, Grandma?”

  Grandma McKay nodded and glanced at Tyler. “Cookies for breakfast, Tyler? What have the girls talked you into?”

  He made a face and brushed crumbs off his shirt. “It sounded like a better idea last night,” he said.

  The park at the far end of Main Street was colorful and crowded as floats and people gathered before the start of the parade. Parade officials walked around with clipboards, trying to organize the chaos. The high-school marching band was warming up over by the railway tracks. The 4-H-club kids were wiping the last bit of dirt from their calves and braiding their horses’ manes. An antique tractor rattled at the curb, and the mayor perched on the back of a convertible, ready to lead the parade.

  “Hey, there’s Will!” Tyler waved to his best friend from Waterton. He was driving a four-wheeled bike with a big sign advertising his dad’s business, Pat’s Garage. A giant bucket of candy sat on the seat beside him. “We should give out candy too—or maybe spray people with water guns.”