Merlin Tuttle interview
On his early research career, scientific success, and advice for young scientists
Alyson speaking
Merlin speaking
Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I really appreciate it.
I want to start by asking you a few questions about your early science and research. I know you first became interested in bats when you were very young… I believe in an elementary school science class, when someone came in and spoke to you about bats?
Not about bats, but about an expedition to collect mammals in Guatemalan rainforests. I sat there and thought—my God, you mean scientists actually get paid to go have fun adventures in the jungle? That’s what I’m going to do!
That’s amazing—you had a spark at that moment, and that led you to dedicate a lifetime to the pursuit of science and conservation. What particular characteristic about you has made you a successful scientist?
Well, I’ve always been extremely curious. I think that’s the first thing toward becoming a scientist. I started out being interested in monarch caterpillars—I’d catch them and raise them on milkweed put in a vase, in the window. I went from that to snakes, and I had some really fun experiences with them getting loose in the house and terrorizing my mother. Then, as a teenager, I went on to falconry and trained hawks. That actually played the biggest role in my later success with photographing bats, because nobody who worked with bats ever thought of trying to train them.
I didn’t get seriously interested in bats until I was in high school, but I did begin collecting small mammals when I was nine or ten. I started trading the mammals’ study skins with museums. In fact, I still have my old field catalogs back to at least 1952.
Wow, that’s incredible. Curiosity has had an important influence on your life as a scientist, but is that trait also what makes you a successful photographer?
Curiosity and the fact that bats are so little-known—there’s so much sophistication to be discovered, so much importance to humans to be discovered. Once you get into bats, there’s just no end to exciting discoveries to make. I still make new discoveries on almost every trip.
I first became involved in bat photography in defense of bats. All the old pictures of bats were taken when somebody would catch one and the bat would bare its teeth in self-defense. In 1978, I was asked to write a book chapter for National Geographic on mammals, and mine, of course, was on bats. When I went to see the chapter layout before publishing, all the pictures were of snarling bats. I said, ‘I’ve just written a whole chapter about how bats are gentle, beneficial, and don’t attack people, and now you’re going to use all these pictures that look like saber-toothed tigers on the attack?’ They apologized and sent one of their staff photographers, Bates Littlehales, out to the field with me for a month to see if he could get some better pictures.
I have always been very interested in learning new things from other people, and I was especially fascinated by photography. However, I just didn’t know enough to take a decent picture. Bates stayed with me for a month, and in that time, he only got three pictures that might be useful for National Geographic. But he could see that the real issue was that the same person had to understand both bats and photography.
When he left, he said, ‘I’ve got a lot of extra film here… why don’t I leave it with you and see if you can get some pictures for the book, too?’
He had guessed that dialing down the flashes’ power could increase the speed at which they could stop the movement of flying bats. He demonstrated that this could produce sharp images by stopping the speed of movement. So, when he left, I started taking pictures on my own, and I ended up being the second most-used photographer in the book. It was a lot of fun!
When I became Curator of Mammals at the Milwaukee Public Museum, it was emphasized that we scientists had to give entertaining performances to the public. The museum had an auditorium where I could provide programs to explain my research to the public and my photos of bats in action soon made my talks a hit with visitors.
I found that when I added pictures that I’d taken for National Geographic to my presentations, people responded especially well. So I started taking more and getting better at it, and finally one day a woman came up to me after a presentation and said, ‘Dr. Tuttle, if you just founded a nonprofit organization, there are people like me who would support you in helping people better understand bats.’
And so that’s how it really started.
Wow. I think a lot of scientists struggle with translating their work for a popular audience so that listeners understand and are interested. What’s been your experience with that, and what have you learned along the way?
First of all, to really excite the public, you need to show them what you’re doing, not just tell them what you’re doing. Once I learned a bit of photography from National Geographic, I started documenting my research with photos, and that made a huge difference.
At the museum, other curators would give interesting talks about what they were doing, but they didn’t have pictures so people would ask why they did it. What good was it? ‘Why did you do that?’ Even when it was good research, if it failed to entertain, it didn’t seem to be important. I quickly learned the power of entertainment. Whether I was speaking to fellow scientists or the public, entertaining photos never failed to make my talks more popular. I also learned the key importance of simple, jargon-free communication.
Too many graduate students, and even mature scientists, attempt to impress with jargon. Many also think it’s a waste of time to talk to the public. You’ve got to wash your mouth out—no big, heavy-duty scientific words. We’ve gotten so sophisticated in our scientific vocabularies that scientists often have trouble even understanding each other unless they’re in the same field.
I would advise any young person interested in becoming a successful scientist or conservationist to conduct high-quality research. Communicate it in simple language. Illustrate with captivating photos. And, present your projects as entertaining stories. The best supported scientists and conservationists I’ve ever met have always mastered the art of entertainment. It’s hard to become a great scientist without the funding that comes from entertainment.
Do you recall any pivotal moments from your graduate research that still influence your work today?
I’ll never forget the embarrassment of poor grades, even in college. Most classes simply didn’t interest me. I seemed to always be concerned about not flunking. In fact, I was accepted into a top graduate program at the University of Kansas only on probation, with a warning that I likely would be unable to obtain more than a Master’s degree.
But I hear you earned a Ph.D. with Honors. How did that happen?
Even In graduate school, I was a pathetic writer, and barely avoided flunking a key statistics course. However, I was very determined and simply worked harder than anyone else. Also, my thesis research was classic, involving banding more than 40,000 gray bats and tracing their migratory movements and needs at more than 120 locations over a multi-state region.
Then you discovered bats eating frogs in Panama. How did that change your career?
While assisting my early mentor, Dr. Charles Handley, at the Smithsonian, I was amazed to catch a bat carrying a partly eaten frog. I was immediately curious. How could bats discriminate between edible versus poisonous frogs in the dark?
That must have been difficult if they were similar in size and shape?
Actually, it seemed impossible. Top hearing physiologists didn’t even believe that bats could hear the low frequencies relied upon for male frogs to attract mates. To make a long story short, I assumed that the only feasible means was for bats to identify male frogs by their mating calls. My first grant proposal was rejected because reviewers didn’t believe bats could even hear frogs. Nevertheless, I persisted. I convinced Milwaukee Public Museum funders, Verne and Marion Read to fund another trip to test the bats in Panama. And to everyone’s amazement, it turned out that there was one unique species (Trachops cirrhosus) that could do what was believed to be impossible!
So, I assume that got your grant funded.
Yes, rather enthusiastically! I also was lucky to meet then graduate student, Mike Ryan, from Cornell University, who was studying tungara frogs (Engystomops pustulosus). It had been hypothesized that males of this species were reluctant to use their sexiest calls because they were potentially also more attractive to some still-to-be-discovered predator. And Mike was testing that hypothesis. So he was of course very curious regarding my discovery that bats could hear frog calls.
From reading your book, The Secret Lives of Bats, I understand that the two of you ended up making quite a team, making and publishing an exciting series of research discoveries!
We did! We ended up having a major impact on each other’s careers. At the time, I was still a pathetic writer, but was too embarrassed to tell Mike. He became an invaluable collaborator, so I offered him co-authorship on our first paper, a cover story in the journal, Science. However, as senior author, I was expected to write the first draft of our paper for an exceptionally difficult journal.
I worked very hard not to embarrass myself, rewriting several times. But it was still pretty bad. I explained it was a very rough draft, though it actually was the very best I could do. It came back practically solid red. I kept that draft for 20 years and all his edits on it, and made a list of what I’d done wrong. In that manner I ended up learning to write surprisingly quickly. Every time I wrote anything, I got out Mike’s example and made sure that I wasn’t making the same mistakes. I worked so hard, and thus learned so fast, that Mike didn’t discover my weakness till years later when I thanked him for his key role.
I don’t care whether it’s asking people for money or writing articles—you’ll never get good until you practice. And you’ll never get really good until you’ve failed a few times or at least made a few mistakes. Don’t be afraid of making mistakes. Just make sure you don’t repeatedly make the same mistakes.
Learning to write, learning to take pictures, and learning to speak—anybody who learns that combination and does it well is going to go places.
In the second half of our conversation, Merlin and I discuss the present and future of bat conservation, including several current issues that tie into MTBC’s mission. Stay tuned for that in a future blog post!
About the author: Alyson Yates is a multimedia artist and science communication photographer based in Portland, Oregon. As a master’s student at Portland State University, she studies amphibian movement and applied road ecology in urban ecosystems.
Alyson began photographing bats in 2019 when she joined MTBC on a trip to Thailand, and she has continued to create images of bats and wildlife conservation research in the western U.S. and beyond. Her other work as a contributing photographer for Oregon State University focuses on agriculture, natural resources, and education.