In an area where bats are dwindling, project works to find answers

WEST SAND LAKE, N.Y. - As the sun drops, bats that survived a catastrophic winter begin to flutter by the treetops to feed. Al Hicks gets into a vehicle to count them.

He drives a jury-rigged batmobile, a state-issued SUV with a high-frequency microphone stuck on top. Hicks, a state wildlife biologist, uses it to tally animals in danger of decimation from a mysterious affliction called white-nose syndrome.

The setup detects and records bats' sonar signals as they swoop over rural roads near Albany in search of insects. Hicks interprets the sounds from his laptop's speaker as he navigates the darkened curves.

"Did you hear that?

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz!

That's the feeding buzz. He's closing in on prey," Hicks says. Then the mike picks up another bat. "That's a searching phase:

Dit, it, dit dit

. He's looking for dinner."

Northeast bat populations were ravaged this year as they hibernated, and Hicks is part of an alliance of scientists urgently trying to get a grip on the disaster before next winter. Researchers are watching the skies, counting bat breaths, and cultivating fungus as they try to understand why so many seem to starve as they sleep for the winter.

"We need to figure out what it is. Then we can figure out what to do," said Cal Butchkoski, a wildlife biologist with the Pennsylvania Game Commission.

White nose is named for the sugary smudge of fungus around the noses of some of the emaciated bats. It was noticed two winters ago in a cluster of caves west of Albany. Some residents around those caves say the summer skies there seem practically bat-free.

White nose seemed to spread out in a circle from cave to carcass-littered cave like a pathogen. The fungus could be the cause, but it also might be an "opportunistic" fungus that shows up when bats are already weakened. Bats might be heading into hibernation without enough fat, which could be related to fewer moths and other insects around for bats to gorge on in the fall. That means insecticides or climate change could be playing an indirect role.

Bat researchers met for a white-nose summit in Albany this summer to come up with unified plans. One thing they want to know is whether the dead bats were underweight when they started to hibernate. So bats will be caught in the fall, and their fat stores will be analyzed.

A wooden box holds the mike upright as Hicks drives at 17 to 20 m.p.h. - or just slightly faster than a bat can fly. As cars constantly pass him, Hicks picks up the sonic signatures of dozens of bats over several hours. Bat screeches are represented on the laptop screen as little blue streaks on a graph. Hicks can tell which species is overhead by looking at the graph.

By driving predetermined routes at the same time of night, Hicks and his colleagues are building baseline population estimates. As they collect data, Hicks and the other researchers around the country stay in touch constantly.

In Wisconsin, microbiologist David Blehert said white-nose researchers had been making "good progress." Butchkoski in Pennsylvania said he expected white nose to spread to his state this winter. Hicks does, too.