“Would you like to come back to my house for tea?” Aunt Elizabeth asked the girls. “I’m sure I could find some soft drinks if you’d like something less stuffy.”
“That would be great,” George said to her aunt. “We can unpack our bags and settle in.”
“Why don’t you follow me back?” Aunt Elizabeth suggested. “I don’t think you’d know the way otherwise, George. It’s been so long since you were last here.”
The three friends and Jessie piled into the rental car. They waited for Aunt Elizabeth to pull out of her parking spot down the block and followed her as she circled the town green and turned down a side road.
Soon enough the green was left behind and the houses became sparser as the road twisted and turned, heading out into the country.
“We’re on Old Fairport Road now,” Jessie said as Nancy drove. “This is the road that’s causing all the trouble.”
Nancy gazed at the passing scenery. Trees were just leafing out with the pale green foliage of spring, and clumps of daffodils dotted the side of the road. Nancy expertly negotiated several hairpin turns. She could easily see how the turns could be treacherous, especially at night.
“We’re about to reach the place where the bats roost,” Jessie told them as the car crossed a small bridge spanning a sparkling stream. She pointed. “See that clump of oaks? Bats love to roost in trees during the day. Those oaks are so tall it keeps them from being disturbed.”
Nancy noticed the trees were clustered along the inside of a curve in the road. At night, in the dark, she could imagine what kind of problems the grove of trees could cause. Even in the daytime it was a blind curve.
“How did you get interested in bats?” Nancy asked Jessie, coming out of the turn. “They’re such odd creatures.”
Jessie chuckled. “Well, they are and they aren’t. They’re the only mammal that flies.”
“What about flying squirrels?” Bess asked.
“Flying squirrels don’t have wings,” Jessie replied. “They have folds of skin that act like parachutes so they can glide from branch to branch. They can’t really fly. But bats really do have wings, like birds, even though they’re related to foxes and dogs.”
“I never knew that!” Nancy exclaimed.
“In fact, one species of bat is called the flying fox,” Jessie said. “Looking at a close-up picture of its face, you would swear that it was a fox.”
Nancy followed Aunt Elizabeth’s car as it pulled into a winding driveway and came to a stop in front of a dark red colonial house.
“What a pretty home,” Nancy said, stepping out of the car. “It looks very old.”
“It is,” George replied. “It’s been in the family for centuries. I think it was built right after the Revolutionary War. Aunt E. and my uncle made some additions, but it’s basically the same house it was over two hundred years ago.”
“Well, here we are,” Aunt Elizabeth said, joining them on the front walk. “Let’s get your bags inside and have some refreshments.”
She went up the steps and stood beneath a small portico as she pushed open the front door. “We don’t use keys here,” she said. “Never have.”
Nancy, George, and Bess took their luggage out of the trunk and walked through the door that Aunt Elizabeth held open. They stepped into a tiny vestibule. Off to one side was a parlor, to the other a large colonial-era kitchen with a fireplace that took up the better part of one wall. A large round table with captain’s chairs gathered around it gave it a homey, inviting air.
“I just love the way old houses smell, don’t you?” Bess asked. “Kind of musty and spicy.”
“You can take the stairs up,” Aunt Elizabeth said, pointing to a steep, narrow flight of stairs in front of them. “I’ll let you decide who gets which room. Then come on down. Jessie and I will get the tea ready.”
The girls went up the stairs and peeked into each of the rooms. Bess chose the pink one with the canopy bed. George took the blue room with a plaid bedspread and curtains. Nancy decided she liked the yellow room that looked out over the front yard.
When they went back downstairs, Nancy noted that Jessie and Aunt Elizabeth had kept their promise. On a tray on a low table in the parlor was a pot of tea, cookies, and bottles of cola.
The parlor was furnished with a comfortable couch facing some easy chairs, all covered in flowery, faded chintz. A curtained window looked out over the side yard. The girls settled into the chairs as Aunt Elizabeth poured tea, passed out drinks, and then sat on the couch next to Jessie.
They chatted about Fairport and some of George’s more distant relatives who lived nearby, but when the conversation lapsed for a moment, Nancy brought up the subject of bats.
“Jessie, I’ve heard you say that bats are important in the balance of nature, but I have to admit I don’t know why,” she said. “Could you tell us?”
Jessie put down the tea she had been sipping and turned to Nancy with an eager smile. “Bats perform a number of functions in the natural world,” she said. “One of the most important, as far as we’re concerned, is that the bats in Fairport eat insects like mosquitoes. If they didn’t, we wouldn’t be able to bear being outside day or night. We’d be bitten to death.”
Nancy laughed. “It’s funny to hear that, since so many people think bats suck blood. Instead they protect us from the critters that do.”
“There are so many myths and legends about bats that aren’t true,” Jessie said. “For instance, many people think bats are ferocious and attack people, but nothing could be further from the truth. Bats are actually gentle creatures who like to be left alone. Unless you’re an insect, they’ll steer clear.”
“Why do these myths persist?” George asked. “Why are people so afraid of bats?”
“Because bats are nocturnal,” Jessie answered, “meaning they go out at night. That makes them kind of creepy. They squeak when they fly—that’s the sound they make to help them navigate by sonar—and it can be an eerie sound. But I guess the scariest thing is that when people get close enough to see them, bats bare their teeth in defense. It’s not a pretty sight.”
Everyone laughed.
“Are they really endangered?” Bess asked.
Jessie nodded. “More than half of all the bat species in America are endangered or threatened. I could tell you horrible stories about people who have murdered thousands and thousands of bats roosting in caves—simply out of fear and ignorance. Other colonies of bats are killed when people cut down the trees where they like to roost. That’s what we’re fighting here in Fairport.”
“I’ve never realized how interesting bats are,” Nancy said.
The phone rang on a small parlor table, and Aunt Elizabeth rose to answer it. The girls chatted quietly as Aunt Elizabeth picked up the receiver and said hello.
But out of the corner of her eye, Nancy saw Aunt Elizabeth’s face go white as she listened to what the caller had to say. Dropping the receiver into the cradle, Aunt Elizabeth collapsed into a chair.
“Aunt E., what is it?” George asked. She leaped up and dashed over to her aunt’s side. “Who was it?”
