Though this happens nearly every summer night, we feel among the lucky few to witness such an extravagant display of nature. The memory is quickly cemented in our minds as one of the great spectacles of the national park system.

October 4, 2024

It’s a short but welcome notice that my special-use permit to photograph the infamous bat flight has been approved, so I shift plans and head up a day early, driving the 4.5 hours from Big Bend National Park to Carlsbad Caverns. Arriving midday, I take advantage of the self-guided tour of the caves before the evening bat program.

The tour can begin via elevator 750 feet below the Carlsbad Caverns Visitor Center or down a 1.25 mile decline through the cave’s Natural Entrance. Naturally, I opt for the more experiential trek. The path begins at the bat viewing amphitheater and winds down tight switchbacks into the mouth of the cave, the temperature dropping a good 30ºF by the time I reach the start of the self-guided tour. The dry, bright heat of New Mexico’s desert is replaced by the damp, cool dark of the caverns. Mist and humidity cling weightless in the air—a stark contrast from the world above.

Once below ground, I approach the Self-guided Loop, an underworld garden of stalagmites and stalactites. Broad flowstones and towering columns emerge from the darkness as the trail beckons on. I cross under looming draperies and over motionless cave pools. The entire environment is a world of contradiction, both fragile and indestructible, grotesque and beautiful, complex and monolithic.

I make my way counterclockwise around the 1.25-mile loop, entering the Hall of Giants first. Here I behold Giant Dome, Twin Domes, and the Rock of Ages, the largest calcite column in the cavern. Journeying further on, I pass Top of the Cross, another equally impressive column centrally located along two crossing fissures in the cave system. The path curves around bringing me to the Bottomless Pit, originally thought to have no floor. Rocks dropped down could not be heard striking the pit’s foundation. Upon further investigation however, the bottom is actually 140 feet below but lined in a soft dirt that dampens the sound of falling rocks.

I make my way past other notable attractions such as Doll’s Theater, Crystal Spring Dome, and Painted Grotto returning to the start of the tour loop, near the elevator shaft leading back up to the visitor center. Thankful for a free ride up 75 floors, I leave the dark wonders of the caverns behind me and return to the bright light of day to await the evening bat program.

After a quick bite of dinner in the town of Carlsbad, I return to the outdoor Bat Flight Amphitheater at the entrance to the cave. About 30 minutes before sunset, visitors begin to congregate in the stadium seating awaiting the program. I introduce myself to the park ranger on duty and present my permit to photograph the event. With everything in order, I take my place at the back of the stadium and set up my tripod patiently anticipating the nightly bat egress.

Though the event is expected every night, it is never guaranteed. Some nights only a few bats emerge; other nights half a million bats appear. The ranger gives a short presentation and answers questions while the audience watches for the first signs of bats. The sun sinks below the horizon behind us painting the sky in shades of pink and blue. Soon several bats are spotted exiting the cave entrance. Immediately, the presentation is paused. All lights are cut and all sounds silenced. As if on command, a flood of bats pours from the Natural Entrance in astonishing numbers. I hear estimates of 300,000 or more.

It is a humbling moment. We can hardly believe our eyes. The drama seems to have no end. Though this happens nearly every summer night, we feel among the lucky few to witness such an extravagant display of nature. The memory is quickly cemented in my mind as one of the great spectacles of our national park system.