{"id":21219,"date":"2012-04-04T18:15:13","date_gmt":"2012-04-04T22:15:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.windturbinesyndrome.com\/static\/static\/?p=21219"},"modified":"2012-04-04T18:56:50","modified_gmt":"2012-04-04T22:56:50","slug":"what-killed-this-bat-falmouth-ma","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.windturbinesyndrome.com\/static\/2012\/what-killed-this-bat-falmouth-ma\/","title":{"rendered":"What killed this bat? (Falmouth, MA)"},"content":{"rendered":"

At the moment, we don’t know the answer. \u00a0But we aim to find out.<\/h3>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Dead bats are once more turning up on properties close to the Falmouth (MA) wind turbines. \u00a0Last summer, many were found on one particular property, very near to Wind 1.<\/p>\n

This time around, we’re getting an autopsy done, to see if there is evidence of exploded lungs<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Stay tuned.<\/p>\n

A bat is born
\nNaked and blind and pale.
\nHis mother makes a pocket of her tail
\nAnd catches him. He clings to her long fur
\nBy his thumbs and toes and teeth.
\nAnd then the mother dances through the night
\nDoubling and looping, soaring, somersaulting\u2014
\nHer\u00a0baby hangs on underneath.
\nAll night, in happiness, she hunts and flies.
\nHer high sharp cries
\nLike shining needlepoints of sound
\nGo out into the night and, echoing back,
\nTell her what they have touched.
\nShe hears how far it is, how big it is,
\nWhich way it’s going:
\nShe lives by hearing.
\nThe mother eats the moths and gnats she catches
\nIn full flight; in full flight
\nThe mother drinks the water of the pond
\nShe skims across. Her baby hangs on tight.
\nHer baby drinks the milk she makes him
\nIn moonlight or starlight, in mid-air.
\nTheir single shadow, printed on the moon
\nOr fluttering across the stars,
\nWhirls on all night; at daybreak
\nThe tired mother flaps home to her rafter.
\nThe others all are there.
\nThey hang themselves up by their toes,
\nThey wrap themselves in their brown wings.
\nBunched upside-down, they sleep in air.
\nTheir sharp ears, their sharp teeth, their quick sharp faces
\nAre dull and slow and mild.
\nAll the bright day, as the mother sleeps,
\nShe folds her wings about her sleeping child.<\/p>\n

\u2014Randall Jarrell<\/a>, “Bats”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

At the moment, we don’t know the answer. \u00a0But we aim to find out. Dead bats are once more turning up on properties close to the Falmouth (MA) wind turbines. \u00a0Last summer, many were found on one particular property, very near to Wind 1. This time around, we’re getting an autopsy done, to see if there is evidence of exploded lungs. Stay tuned. A bat is born Naked and blind and pale. His mother makes a pocket of her tail And catches him. He clings to her long fur By his thumbs and toes and teeth. And then the mother dances through the night Doubling and looping, soaring, somersaulting\u2014 Her\u00a0baby hangs on underneath. All night, in happiness, she hunts and flies. Her high sharp cries Like shining needlepoints of sound Go out into the night and, echoing back, Tell her what they have touched. She hears how far it is, how big it is, Which way it’s going: She lives by hearing. The mother eats the moths and gnats she catches In full flight; in full flight The mother drinks the water of the pond She skims across. Her baby hangs on tight. Her baby drinks the milk she makes him In moonlight or starlight, in mid-air. Their single shadow, printed on the moon Or fluttering across the stars, Whirls on all night; at daybreak The tired mother flaps home to her rafter. The others all are there. They hang themselves up by their toes, They wrap themselves in their brown wings. Bunched upside-down, they sleep in air. Their sharp ears, their sharp teeth, their quick sharp faces Are dull and slow and mild. All the bright day, as the mother sleeps, She folds her wings about her sleeping child. \u2014Randall Jarrell, “Bats”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[157,16,169],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.windturbinesyndrome.com\/static\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21219"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.windturbinesyndrome.com\/static\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.windturbinesyndrome.com\/static\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.windturbinesyndrome.com\/static\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.windturbinesyndrome.com\/static\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=21219"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.windturbinesyndrome.com\/static\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21219\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.windturbinesyndrome.com\/static\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=21219"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.windturbinesyndrome.com\/static\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=21219"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.windturbinesyndrome.com\/static\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=21219"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}