It’s a chilly spring evening and the sun is sinking as nighttime begins. It’s darker here in rural Eatonville, away from city lights and cocooned in a blanket of clouds that hide the moon’s light. The illumination now comes only in beams from headlamps worn by a dozen or so scientists, students, researchers, and volunteers waiting for tiny bats to emerge from their slumber. They are at Northwest Trek Wildlife Park, home to more than 350 bats and one of the largest colonies in South Puget Sound. The goal tonight is to capture 50 bats to further their work toward …

Northwest Trek Wildlife Park and Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife (WDFW) are partnering with scientists from Wildlife Conservation Society Canada (WCSC) to test the effectiveness of a promising new bat-saving treatment to help wild bats survive the effects of white-nose syndrome. White-nose syndrome has killed millions of hibernating bats in eastern North America and was first discovered in Washington in 2016. State wildlife officials have confirmed white-nose syndrome in King, Chelan, Kittitas, and Pierce counties. The fungus that causes white-nose syndrome has also been confirmed in Lewis, Mason, Snohomish, and Yakima counties. “If this innovative probiotic spray is effective, …

As pink sky slowly darkens behind tall trees, six scientists stand motionless outside the veterinary clinic at Northwest Trek. Only a robin’s chirp pierces the cool air. All eyes are fixed on the clinic’s overhang roof, straining to see through the shadows. They’re waiting for the appearance of a tiny creature that’s often misunderstood, yet is vital to human health, and is now in danger from a deadly disease. They’re waiting for bats. 6:00 p.m. Scientists Michelle Tirhi and Abby Tobin arrive at Northwest Trek, and start scouting bat roosts with Trek staff: conservation engagement coordinator Rachael Mueller, veterinary technician …

Some was sprinkled around the base of a tree. More was scattered over the floor of the tram garage. But it was just outside one of the veterinary clinics, under a wide overhanging awning, that Michelle Tirhi got really excited. “Look at all that!” she exclaimed, sweeping her eyes around the concrete floor. “And it’s all fresh! We could just scoop up some right now.” Bending down, she picked up a tiny black sliver the size and shape of a rice grain and held it up triumphantly. Bat poop. Or guano, to be precise. Tirhi, the District II wildlife biologist …