Are We Listening to the Whispers of the Night?
Imagine a world where the gentle flutter of wings at dusk becomes a powerful reminder of our interconnectedness with nature. In Geelong, Australia, the grey-headed flying foxes are more than just nocturnal creatures; they’re messengers of a warming planet. But here’s where it gets controversial: while many see these bats as pests, journalist and musician Mik Aidt hears a call to empathy and action. His 23-minute audio artwork, Bats and Being, challenges us to rethink our relationship with the natural world—and it’s not always a comfortable listen.
Living in a city, it’s easy to forget the rhythms of the living world. Electric lights drown out the dusk, walls shield us from the elements, and seasons blur into the background. Bats and Being invites listeners to pause, slow down, and reconnect. Through field recordings, music, spoken reflections, and fragments from a guided walk with researchers, the piece bridges the gap between urban noise and shared presence. But this isn’t just a soothing soundscape—it’s a call to confront the discomfort of a changing climate.
And this is the part most people miss: The artwork was born during an extreme heatwave, when temperatures became life-threatening for both humans and bats. Instead of offering escape, it holds space for empathy, unease, and attention. It asks: What does it mean to coexist with other species in a warming world? And what kind of care does true belonging require?
In a recent interview, 63-year-old Mik Aidt shares how his journey from climate advocacy to sound art led him to this project. After a decade of campaigning through radio, writing, and public conversation, he made a New Year’s resolution in 2025 to explore music as a medium for climate communication. He challenged himself to create 52 songs in a year, blending radio excerpts, music, and poetry. What he discovered was profound: sound bypasses our defenses, touching something deeper within us.
When he saw the call for the Bats & Belonging exhibition, something clicked. This was his chance to use art and sound to communicate care, vulnerability, and relationship—not just facts. But the story of the piece didn’t fully emerge until a heatwave hit Geelong, reaching 41°C. Mik, who lives near Eastern Park where the bats roost, witnessed their distress firsthand. That moment became the heart of his work: a peaceful yet urgent exploration of how extreme heat, driven by climate change, threatens these creatures living right alongside us.
A Thought-Provoking Question: Can art like Bats and Being truly change how we perceive our place in the natural world? Or is it just another drop in the ocean of climate messaging?
Mik’s relationship with the bats evolved over time. Initially, their nightly flights were a distant curiosity. But after a guided nature walk with researchers, he began to see them as neighbors—part of a shared living system. One detail stood out: mother bats have distinct calls for their babies, who recognize them among thousands. This intimate communication mirrored his own bond with his dog, transforming the bats from abstract creatures into gentle, social beings. Suddenly, feeling responsible for their well-being became unavoidable.
Witnessing the bats’ nightly movement offers a sense of ancient rhythm, a reminder of life’s circularity. It’s a stark contrast to the disconnected pace of modern city life. Mik shaped Bats and Being to slow listeners down, layering environmental recordings with moments from the guided walk. The piece doesn’t rush; it invites you to tune into a different state of mind, to feel the weight of the bats’ vulnerability—and our own.
A Controversial Take: While ambient nature recordings aim to relax, Bats and Being refuses to soothe. It’s a deliberate discomfort, a signal that something is deeply wrong. Record-breaking temperatures aren’t just “weather”—they’re symptoms of climate breakdown, driven by human actions. The piece doesn’t ask you to relax; it asks you to feel, to reflect, and to act.
At 23 minutes, the artwork demands attention—but it’s not a passive experience. Mik hopes it sparks curiosity, conversation, and compassion, even for the difficult work of transitioning to clean energy. Belonging, for him, is about connection: with each other, with place, and with the living systems around us. The bats aren’t visitors; they’re fellow citizens. Sharing presence with them, even without language, fosters a deep sense of warmth and responsibility.
Bats & Belonging opens on February 5, 2026, at Untether Gallery in Geelong. It’s a chance to explore what it means to live well together—human and non-human alike. But the real question lingers: Will we listen to the whispers of the night, or will we let them fade into silence?
What do you think? Is art an effective tool for climate advocacy, or do we need more direct action? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s keep the conversation going.
