Like millennials hunting for a phone signal, we wandered with bat detectors held high, ears pricked for interruptions in the hiss of static.
Eyes squinting into the lavender dusk sky, my heart fluttered at every flitting silhouette – sadly more pīwakawaka than pekapeka on this occasion.
It was the perfect evening for detecting bats in Auckland’s Henderson Valley. The mosquito-laden air was still and quiet, and the concrete path radiated a 28-degree day.
Peach clouds flavoured the sky, and as the light faded, anticipation gripped the two dozen or so attendees of the evening’s bat walk, put on by Community Waitakere and McLaren Park and Henderson South Community Trust.
As with every bat walk of the season, the free event had quickly booked out, and after a presentation on the unique species, we were each equipped with a bat detector and let loose.
Primed like fishermen, we spread around the park to sweep the skies for sound, all eager to be the first to find an elusive pekapeka.
Set at 40kH, the detectors are tuned to pick up long-tailed bat echolocation calls, which fall outside the upper limits of human hearing, which is around 20kH.
The walkie-talkie shaped devices have a directional range of up to 30m, and convert ultrasonic bat cries into audible frequencies which sound like clicks and zips piercing the static.
As we quickly discovered, bats are frustratingly not alone in the 40kH range, and cicadas, jangling keys and my camera’s autofocus had us hearing red herrings throughout the walk.
After an hour’s search, our results were inconclusive – a possible flyover detected here, an anonymous click there, and a number of false alarms.
It felt unlikely that a nationally critical species could ever be detected in such an urban area, and I shared in the surprise of curious passersby who exclaimed,
“What? Bats? Here?”.
Disbelief, however, is a common reaction, says enthusiast Tina Samuelu, who turned to the dark side in 2017 after experiencing her first bat walk.
Now hooked on the hunt, the west-Aucklander gets out with her bat detector to stalk the night as often as she can.
“I just get such a buzz out of it – my heart starts pumping and I get that adrenalin rush,” she says.
As community coordinator for MPHS Community Trust, Samuelu has started organising her own bat walks, and she’s developed a knack for finding populations.
“People call me the bat woman or the bat whisperer,” she laughs.
Using her knowledge of their feeding behaviour, she’s detected specimens hunting in populated suburbs far from their suspected roosts in the Waitakere Ranges.
“Searching in such urban areas, some people just wrote me off, but it didn’t discourage me. If you feel like it’s the right place to look, you might as well. They could be in your backyard and you’d never know it.”

