The Story Of the Frozen Bat
As the snow flakes float across my windows on this early spring day, I take note of the little crocuses pushing up through the ground that lay exposed to the sun only a few days ago. I am hoping that the snow will give them a blanket, and that they won’t suffer damage from the plunging temperatures. I marvel that these little corms actually freeze in the ground, and still come forth in response to the sun’s rays with such eagerness.
Watching the snow, I remember the bat my father brought into our house one winter when we lived on the farm in northern Alberta. It was fearfully cold that day, at least forty below, and he had found the bat inside a hollow in a tree. He thought it was frozen solid, and indeed, when he picked it up, it was more rigid than an icicle. Thinking that his children had never seen a bat up close (Mom was terribly afraid of them), he decided to bring it home.
We children gathered around the kitchen table to poke and prod this fascinating brown ice cube. It was surely frozen; its little wings clapped tightly to its sides were immovable to the pressure of our fingers. We stroked its fur, and examined its tiny ears and beak. When we had satisfied our curiousity, we wandered away, as children will.
Sometime later, we heard a scream from the kitchen. It was our mother, and as we rushed to see, we discovered her standing on a chair with her hands covering her hair. Around her, in circles, flew a little brown bat. My eyes had to check the table to ascertain that it was the little brown ice cube come magically to life.
Eventually our father recaptured the tiny animal and took it out to the cow barn, where it could return to hibernation with somewhat less danger of freezing solid. Eventually, our mother forgave him for her distress. We children quietly shared the amazement of having witnessed natural cryogenesis, and learned a wonderful lesson about the resilience of life.
I hope my little crocuses are as resourceful! They at least are not warmblooded.
Wulian's World 