The following account of the behaviour of the Noctule in captivity, together
with notes on its food and habits, is extracted from an article by Mr. T. A.
Coward in the ‘ Scotsman,’ 1 and refers to the Bats which Mr. Oldham and he had
under observation.
‘ In a free and unconstrained condition, the habits of any nocturnal animal are
difficult to observe, but the Noctule so easily adapts itself to captivity that it is
strange that so little is known about its ways. Of all kinds o f . Bats that either
Mr. Oldham or I have kept in captivity, the Noctule has most readily accepted
its changed conditions. It requires no taming process to induce it to feed, and
it rapidly connects human fingers with the food they supply, though it never
seems to recognise that fingers are not as edible as insects. When wounded or
captured, the Noctule bites fiercely, and though its teeth are not large enough to
make a serious wound, they are sharp enough to draw blood and to give a painful
nip. For some weeks I kept a couple of these Bats in a box, releasing them
every night in my room to enjoy a short flight. There were nineteen Bats in the
hollow tree where they were captured, and sixteen of them were males, which looks
as if it is true that the sexes congregate separately. Almost immediately the Bats
were captured, they took food from the hand. Their favourite article of diet was
mealworm, which they preferred to dor-beetles or cockchafers, their staple food in
the natural state. Mealworms, the hard-skinned larvae of a beetle, can hardly be
considered a natural food, for the Bats never have an opportunity of obtaining
them, but even when so replete that they would refuse other food, they would
continue devouring mealworms as long as they were supplied.
‘ When the first mealworm was offered to them they did not understand it, but
after one had been broken and its juice smeared on the face of the Bat, they
required no further introduction, but plainly asked for more. In a very short
time they recognised my hand as a supplier of food, and ran across the table
towards it, but so frequently did they nip my fingers in grabbing at the worm
that I found it advisable to use a pair of forceps. There was no trace of anger
in their biting, but simply a ravenous desire for food. As the Noctule always
feeds upon the wing, they did not understand that any portion of their food which
they let drop could be recovered again, and they would walk over a maimed and
struggling insect to ask for more food. We— for Mr. Oldham kept a couple at
the same time that I did, and his experiences were similar to mine— sometimes
got them to pick up a mealworm from the table, but it was evident that they
1 April 7, 1903.
considered it a fresh capture, and never learnt to search for anything they had
dropped.
‘ If the box was opened during the day time or early in the evening, the Bats
were always in a comatose state, and required a great deal of waking; but between
7 and 8 p .m . they generally woke themselves. If by chance we were unable to
feed them during the hour or so in which they were awake, they would relapse
again into their former lethargy and required waking before they would take food.
The diurnal sleep of the Noctule is profound, almost similar to the lethargy of
hibernation; the temperature falls considerably, and, as Dr. Alcock remarks with
medical precision, the “ breathing becomes shallow and irregular— ‘ Cheyne-Stokes ’
in type.” He also points out that upon awakening the temperature sometimes
rises as much as 31 degrees in fifteen minutes. The waking process is very
singular. I would take a Bat in my hands to warm it for a few minutes. The
breathing then became very rapid, the animal shuddering and panting, as if in
fear; it seemingly pumped itself into activity. When at last it was wide awake,
the appearance of the animal was quite changed; its little body felt quite hot, the
bright eyes glistened, and the ears were in constant motion. Raising itself on the
carpals, it would patter towards me, and, if I did not at once supply food, would
climb up my arm and snuggle down at the back of my neck, from where it would
shortly take wing. Generally the Bats seemed loth to take wing, preferring to run
about the table; but after a good feed and a long drink— for they are thirsty little
creatures— they liked a short fly round the room. They would lap water from a
saucer, or lap or suck it from the end of a camel’s-hair brush. Raw meat and
shreds of fish they took after a little teaching, but they seemed to find more
difficulty in masticating flesh than the horny bodies of beetles or mealworms.
‘ Mealworms, small moths, and beetles were eaten without difficulty, but when
any large beetle, such as a dor or chafer, was seized the Bats were obliged to
overcome its struggles. This was done by a very curious action. The tail of the
Noctule is curved forward when the animal is at rest or walking, the interfemoral
membrane forming a bag or pouch; and when any large obstreperous insect is
seized, the head is rapidly bent under the body and the insect pushed into the
pouch till the Bat secures a good grip. Directly the prey is seized the Bat,
slightly spreading the fore-limbs and pressing them firmly to the ground at the
carpals, raises itself and brings the feet forwards so as to increase the capacity of
the pouch. If the insect was not very large the movement was very rapid and
the head was withdrawn at once, but when feeding our Bats we sometimes gave
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