Hoosier hysteria

The Indiana bat is a tiny critter, an inch or two in length, an ounce or two in weight; a mouse with wings. It’s a cave dweller, although dead trees will do in a pinch. The scientific name is myotis sodalis and, but for its pink lips, it is virtually indistinguishable from the common brown bat. The center of its range is the state of — take a wild guess.

It’s also an endangered species, has been since 1967. That’s why the sighting of a single Indiana bat in a cave in Vermont’s Green Mountain National Forest last summer has brought new logging projects there to a halt. The possibility, theoretical at this point, that a few could have wandered into the White Mountain National Forest is reason enough, say the environmental groups Green Mountain Forest Watch, Sierra Club and Wilderness Society, to quiet chain saws in New Hampshire and Maine.

The Indiana bat probably won’t be New England’s spotted owl, but unless the environmental groups moderate their “one bat is worth a thousand workers” position, it could be the final outrage opponents of the Endangered Species Act have long desired.

If the task at hand is to kill New England’s forestry industry, there are several reasons why the Indiana bat is the wrong species for the job. It has been on the endangered list for 32 years, its numbers are estimated at 350,000. How many more years and how more bats until the danger passes? The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service’s recovery plan pinpoints the degradation of limestone caves in Indiana, Illinois, Kentucky and Missouri as the cause of the bat’s decline. How are those caves restored by banning logging within five miles of a dead tree in Vermont, as is called for in the logging moratorium?

And since when is mere speculation about a species’ presence enough to initiate a ban on logging? Shouldn’t there at least be actual confirmed sightings of Indiana bats in the White Mountains before the litigation, not to mention the hardship, begins?

In case these environmental groups haven’t been paying attention, there is a growing sentiment that the Endangered Species Act is being abused — it’s no longer about protecting species but about redirecting human activity. And when the public’s patience wears thin, Congress isn’t far behind. It won’t take much to push the movement to weaken the Endangered Species Act over the top. A little flying mouse with pink lips could do it.