Tiny creatures of the night are dying in record numbers in Manitoba

Winnipeg Free Press

09-06-2025

The lecture room at FortWhyte Alive is dimly lit, the soft glow from the projector casting shadows on the walls as the audience settles in. All eyes are on the screen as Craig Willis adjusts his slides.
'Bats tend to get a bad rap,' he begins, his voice echoing slightly in the space. 'People think they're creepy, but they are some of the most incredible mammals on Earth.'
The first slide appears — an image of a little brown bat, a tiny creature that weighs only as much as a couple of loonies. The room fills with the eerie, high-pitched sounds of echolocation, projected from the speakers in rapid bursts.
MIKAELA MACKENZIE / FREE PRESS
University of Winnipeg lab manager Kaleigh Norquay (left) and biology professor Craig Willis share a fascination with bats.
MIKAELA MACKENZIE / FREE PRESS
University of Winnipeg lab manager Kaleigh Norquay (left) and biology professor Craig Willis share a fascination with bats.
'They scream into the night, sending out high-frequency calls,' Willis explains, as a graph displays the peaks and valleys of sound waves. 'This is how they perceive the world — listening for echoes that bounce off objects, shaping their environment in complete darkness.
'And if you like margaritas,' he adds with a grin, flipping to the next slide of a blooming agave plant, 'you can thank bats. They pollinate the agave plant — without them, no tequila, no mezcal.'
Laughter runs through the room, but as the slides change, the mood sobers.
The colourful images of bats soon give way to stark graphs and grim statistics. The twin threats of white-nose syndrome and wind turbines loom heavy over bat populations.
It's a sun-soaked afternoon and the prairie crocus, Manitoba's floral emblem, is blooming in delicate sunbursts along the forest floor.
At the entrance to Lake St. George Bat Cave, Malcolm Reimer and Kaleigh Norquay, both working under Craig Willis at the University of Winnipeg, adjust their crisp white Tyvek suits, preparing for another day of crucial bat research.
It's a sun-soaked afternoon and the prairie crocus, Manitoba's floral emblem, is blooming in delicate sunbursts along the forest floor.
At the entrance to Lake St. George Bat Cave, Malcolm Reimer and Kaleigh Norquay, both working under Craig Willis at the University of Winnipeg, adjust their crisp white Tyvek suits, preparing for another day of crucial bat research.
As always, ensuring they aren't inadvertently spreading white-nose syndrome is top priority.
'We have to make sure we're not the reason the fungus moves from one site to another,' Norquay explains, checking the contents of their decontamination kit — gloves, disinfecting wipes, isopropyl alcohol and alcohol swabs. Nothing crosses the invisible boundary at the entrance without a thorough cleaning.
Inside the aluminum cage that guards the cave, Reimer inspects the batteries, running a voltage meter over them.
'Our main mission here is to make sure our tag scanner is working and that the solar panel is feeding enough power to the batteries,' he explains.
'It keeps the antennae turned on, allowing us to track every tagged bat as it comes out of the cave.'
The Biomark system specialists sit neatly tucked in a plastic box, crucial for keeping their identification solutions running smoothly.
Beyond the cage, nestled deeper in the mixed boreal forest, three solar panels stand behind the cave, soaking up the sunlight that powers their delicate tracking systems. The panels keep the PIT tag scanners operational, ensuring researchers can detect the movement of microchipped bats as they emerged.
But nature has left its mark — deep gouges run across one of the panels, unmistakable signs of a black bear's claws.
As Reimer clicks through footage on the game camera pointed at the entrance, an image flickers onto the laptop screen — a pine marten, caught on video in February 2024.
'It's still sniffing around. We've recorded them waiting at the entrance, snatching bats midair. Most of the bats roost high up on the ceiling, but the ones lower down are easy prey,' he says.
Norquay frowns. 'We think the pine martens go inside the cave to disturb the bats, then they wait for them to fly out and grab them with their jaws.'
The Little Brown Bats and Northern Long-Eared Bats, species hibernating here, are endangered both federally and provincially. It isn't just survival against the elements — it's survival against predators, too.
They've been discussing mitigation efforts.
'Pine martens aren't endangered or threatened in Manitoba, but these bats are. It's complicated because this is an ecological reserve. Removing a predator is difficult, both logistically and legally,' Reimer says.
They can do nothing or try to build a barrier to keep the martens from the cave's entrance, but the right course of action is uncertain.
As Reimer — who is completing his master's degree in bioscience, technology and public policy — prepares fresh batteries, Norquay — the manager of the University of Winnipeg's 'Bat Lab'— inserts a newly formatted SD card into the game camera.
'We'll take the old one back to the lab and download everything. Hopefully, we can characterize some of the pine marten's behaviour and figure out how often it's visiting the cave,' she says.
But they aren't just monitoring one cave.
'We have scanner systems at three other sites in Manitoba and one outside the province. It'll help us track if bats move between caves to hibernate,' Reimer says.
Some bats were loyal to their original cave, but records showed others making the journey from one site to another.
Technology has expanded their research beyond tracking. Norquay gestures toward the Motus tower, one of many across North America.
'Originally, these towers were used for tracking birds, but we use them for bats, too,' she explains.
Small radio transmitters are glued to the bats' backs (they fall off after a few weeks), allowing researchers to track their movements when they pass by any tower in the extensive network. A year ago, a postdoctoral student tagged 40 bats, while Reimer experimented with temperature-sensitive tags.
A small local weather station stands further back in the forest, monitoring rainfall, wind speed and humidity — factors that might influence when bats emerge from hibernation.
'It's good to have environmental data right here at the cave entrance. It helps us figure out how local conditions affect their behaviour,' Reimer notes.
Norquay sighs, looking over the limestone entrance.
'The coolest part of my job is getting to visit these secret places — seeing wildlife and a world that most people never get to experience,' she says.
Reimer nods. 'It's a lot of work. You have to meet the bats where they are, but in the process you see some incredible places.'
Their research is ongoing, the puzzle pieces still falling into place. But as the sun dips lower in the sky, casting golden streaks over the cage entrance, one thing is certain — beneath the earth, thousands of bats are stirring, preparing for their return to the world above.
— Martin Zelig
'White-nose syndrome is a fungal disease that arrived here from Europe or Asia about 15 years ago,' Willis says, pointing to a chart displaying population declines. 'It's killed millions. Each of those bats would have consumed a kilogram of insects per summer.'
Research suggests that in areas where bat populations declined due to white nose syndrome, farmers increased pesticide use and infant mortality rates also rose, he says, adding that while the study found a correlation, further research is needed to fully understand the relationship between pesticide exposure and infant health.
He flips another slide — an image of wind turbines stretching across a sunset. 'And then, there's this. Migratory bats — the hoary bat, the eastern red bat, the silver-haired bat — are dying in enormous numbers as they fly south in the fall.'
The graphs tell the story in stark detail, with sharp declines year after year. 'We need solutions. The deaths occur mainly at night, during fall migration, when the winds are low and the turbines aren't generating much energy anyway. If operators adjusted how turbines function during those times we could save countless bats without sacrificing renewable energy production,'he says, leaning forward.
Free Press files
The little brown bat is a tiny creature that weighs about eight grams.
Free Press files
The little brown bat is a tiny creature that weighs about eight grams.
He pauses, scanning the audience. The weight of his words hangs in the air.
'Manitoba lacks guidelines for this. We need them. If you care about nature, about agriculture, about biodiversity — write to your MLA, to Premier (Wab) Kinew's office, to the environment minister. Push for the adoption of Alberta's wind energy guidelines,' he says.
The lecture draws to a close, but the conversation has only just begun. Some attendees linger, discussing the slides, the sounds and the data. Others walk away with a newfound urgency, their thoughts swirling like the silent wings of bats — creatures whose fate now rests in the hands of those willing to act.
It is valuable not only to preserve bat species in the short term, but also for future generations to enjoy.
Craig Willis hadn't always known he would dedicate his career to the mysterious world of bats. Growing up in southern Ontario, he had always loved nature — the vast lakes, winding forests and the sense of adventure that came with summer camps and canoe trips. But back then, bats were just shadowy figures darting through the twilight, not yet the obsession they would become.
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Norquay displays a PIT chip, used to track bat movements.
MIKAELA MACKENZIE / FREE PRESS
Norquay displays a PIT chip, used to track bat movements.
During his early undergraduate years at Queen's University, Willis was, admittedly, a little directionless. But that all changed when he stumbled into an immersive two-week field course in the Okanagan Valley in British Columbia — a place teeming with bats, the most diverse hot spot for the species in Canada.
On the second floor of the Richardson College for the Environment and Science Complex at the University of Winnipeg sits an unassuming space known simply as the Bat Lab.
Prof. Craig Willis, a seasoned biologist and chair of the graduate program in biology, prefers to call himself the 'chief bat nerd,' though his title is far more official. 'And bottle washer, though I don't actually wash any bottles,' he quips with a chuckle. 'I run the operation.'
On the second floor of the Richardson College for the Environment and Science Complex at the University of Winnipeg sits an unassuming space known simply as the Bat Lab.
Prof. Craig Willis, a seasoned biologist and chair of the graduate program in biology, prefers to call himself the 'chief bat nerd,' though his title is far more official. 'And bottle washer, though I don't actually wash any bottles,' he quips with a chuckle. 'I run the operation.'
But this Bat Lab isn't a sprawling high-tech research facility — it's more of a hybrid workspace. Part storage, part office, part launchpad for fieldwork.
'We're surrounded by shelves filled with equipment, old research journals and even a refrigerator — though not for any bats,' Willis jokes. 'It's 300 to 400 square feet of brainpower.'
But if you think this is the lab's only home, think again. A space on the fourth floor, affectionately called the 'Bat Cave,' was once used for live bat research.
'Until a few years ago we worked on conservation questions with live bats up there. We haven't returned to those projects yet, but the Bat Cave is still part of our research world,' Willis says.
Bat houses, a tool for studying and conserving bat populations, play a crucial role in the lab's work. Kaleigh Norquay, manager of the Bat Lab, points one out.
'This one's primarily used for demonstration, but people can buy them commercially. Some species love them, others aren't impressed,' Willis explains.
Painted black and built from heavy-duty plywood, the structures are designed to mimic natural roosts. Little Brown Bats (Myotis lucifugus) and Big Brown Bats (Eptesicus fuscus) use them often.
'If folks think they have a bat colony in their home, it's worth checking for gaps in siding, chimneys and other small openings,' he advises.
Pranav Sadana, a graduate student, is deep into his master's thesis on little brown bat ecophysiology — how they prepare for hibernation and its impact on genetics.
'Bats are incredible mammals,' Sadana says enthusiastically. 'They're the only ones capable of true flight, which requires massive energy expenditure.'
Their biology is a perfect case study in physiological adaptation.
'Small mammals with high energy needs — it's fascinating to study how they sustain themselves,' he adds.
For over a decade, the United States Fish and Wildlife Service has been a major supporter of the Bat Lab's work on white-nose syndrome, the devastating disease that has wiped out millions of bats.
'But with political changes south of the border, funding is becoming more uncertain. Even Canadian scientists who collaborate with American researchers are affected,' Willis admits.
Despite the challenges, Willis remains optimistic.
'We're pushing forward. We have some funding from Canadian agencies, and I'm in talks with American colleagues about new funding opportunities, including a proposal to the National Science Foundation. If successful, it'll help us better understand bat physiology and support ongoing research.'
— Martin Zeilig
Something clicked during that course. Midway through, Willis knew this was the life he wanted: studying bats, unravelling their mysteries and working alongside brilliant students.
Though he's studied various animals throughout his career, bats have remained his true calling.
For the last 20 years, he's been at the University of Winnipeg, unlocking secrets about bat biology and behaviour.
He also spent two years in Australia, completing postdoctoral research on bats, and catching glimpses of their elusive forms in Central America, always working with experts who knew bat research inside and out.
One of Willis's biggest fascinations is hibernation. Few creatures are as masterful at conserving energy through the long winter as bats. Manitoba's bats endure hibernation periods as long as any other species — perhaps Arctic ground squirrels could rival them, but bats have evolved incredible adaptations to stretch their energy savings even further.
And their social lives add an extra layer of intrigue.
While he doesn't get to do as much fieldwork these days, Willis finds joy in working with sharp, motivated students who, in his words, 'know what they're doing.'
MIKAELA MACKENZIE / FREE PRESS
University of Winnipeg biology professor Craig Willis
MIKAELA MACKENZIE / FREE PRESS
University of Winnipeg biology professor Craig Willis
When he does tag along, he's often the one asking for guidance, he says with a laugh. But that's the beauty of academia — passing on knowledge, watching bright minds take flight.
For Willis, studying bats isn't just about science, it's about preserving Canada's natural heritage. Bats are an integral part of the country's ecosystems, and ensuring their survival isn't just a short-term goal — it's about protecting them for future generations, allowing others to marvel at these creatures the way he once did as a wide-eyed student in the Okanagan Valley.
And so, his journey continues — a life shaped by chance, by passionate mentors, and by these fascinating nocturnal creatures.
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Bruce Bumstead / Brandon Sun files
A brown bat clings to the bark on a tree in the Keystone Centre grounds.