The Misunderstood Creature of the Night: The Bat
Originally published on my Substack — subscribe there for more like this.
The bats outside my garage are currently having the time of their lives, clicking and screaming away, flying all around the trees, generally acting unhinged. Meanwhile half the internet still treats “bat” as a synonym for “evil little omen creature,” which is wild to me, because bats have historically been more of a mixed review than a horror movie.
Here’s the thing about bats: depending on where you’re standing on Earth, they can mean almost the opposite thing.
China decided bats are good luck. And not your average “vibes based” good luck but literal, coded into the language good luck. The word for bat, fu (蝠), sounds identical to the word for fortune, fu (福). Five bats together is a blessing: health, wealth, longevity, virtue, a peaceful death. It’s all over antique Chinese art and you’ve probably looked right at it without clocking what it was.
Zulu tradition doesn't treat bats as a one off superstition it drops them into a much bigger cosmology. The amadlozi, the ancestors, are the actual daily spiritual authority in Zulu belief, arguably more present in day to day life than the creator god himself. They show up in dreams, they get consulted before big decisions, they're fed and thanked. And there's an existing category for animals that might be an ancestor moving through the world; house snakes, for instance, are traditionally never killed on the chance one's a visiting relative. Bats slot into that same logic. So that bat that flew into the attic could potentially your great-grandmother just checking in, not a vampire. Hurting one is bad luck for the obvious reason: you don't know who you'd be hurting.
The Maya were not as forgiving, and honestly, they didn't half ass it. Camazotz literally translates to "death bat" or sometimes "snatch bat," which is somehow worse. In the Popol Vuh, the Hero Twins have to survive a night in the House of Bats as one of several death traps in the underworld, and they only make it by hiding inside their own blowguns. Then Hunahpu, convinced the sun's finally coming up, pokes his head out to check. Camazotz decapitates him on the spot and carries his head off to be used as the actual ball in the gods' next ballgame. His brother has to carve a decoy head out of a squash just to stall long enough to get the real one back. I want you to understand that this is not a vague "bats = death" symbolism. That's a named god with a kill count and a documented use for the head afterward. That's not some outsider slapping "evil" onto an innocent animal. This is a culture looking directly at the bat and deciding, on their own terms, "yeah, this one's ours to fear." Different vibe entirely from a Victorian novelist doing it from across an ocean.
Greek myth says that King Minyas’s three daughters refused to join Dionysus’s rites, staying home to weave instead while everyone else went wild in the hills. Dionysus punished them by he drove them actually, genuinely insane. In that madness, one of the sisters tore apart her own son, convinced he was a fawn. Only after that does Hermes turn all three into bats, the final piece of the punishment. Ovid’s version of the transformation is genuinely upsetting to read: skin stretching thin into membrane between their fingers, their voices shrinking down into thin useless shrieks, daylight becoming something they can no longer stand. I know how this story sounds but this is a story about what happens when you refuse a communal, ecstatic ritual (not just “missing a party”) and the punishment is losing your mind first and your humanity after.
So no, it’s not universal. It’s regional, and it tracks with each culture’s own relationship to night and death.
Where the “evil” reputation actually comes from
This is the part that makes me insane. The vampire-bat thing is the reputation doing 90% of the heavy lifting in Western bat-dread, is fairly recent. Bram Stoker published Dracula in 1897. Europe had already been side-eyeing bats for a thousand years by then. He didn’t invent the fear, but he did play onto the newly popular fact that blood drinking bats existed somewhere in the Americas.
There are over 1,400 species of bat. Three of them drink blood. All three live exclusively in Latin America. Europe spent over a millennium terrified of an animal it had zero actual overlap with. Just think about that for a second.
Rabies gets the same treatment. real, but wildly oversold. Bat-to-human transmission is genuinely rare. And please, I’m not telling you to go cuddle a bat. Over the past 60 years, it’s estimated that roughly 1–3 cases of human rabies per year in the United States have been attributed to bats (Gale, Jenn 2026).
What they’re actually doing out there
Bats are the only mammal that actually flies and most species are running echolocation while they do it. How cool is that? Built-in sonar, navigating and hunting by reading sound bouncing back at them. In pitch dark or while eating dinner mid-air. Genuinely so impressive.
And to top it off they’re working the whole time. Bats pollinate agave (yes, the plant tequila comes from, you’re welcome) and disperse seeds for a huge range of tropical fruit. They also eat an absurd number of insects a night, functioning as free pest control for entire ecosystems. A healthy bat colony is doing a job that would otherwise cost a lot more in pesticide.
Why I think this one actually matters
Pattern I keep running into with this research: the animals that get cast as “evil” almost always got there from one specific, recent event aka a novel, a plague, a bad translation, that then gets treated like its ancient, universal truth. Crows got theirs from Western death omen folklore (Check out my article on crows and spiders). Bats got theirs from a Victorian horror novel meeting genuine unfamiliarity, and it stuck so hard we forgot to ask where it came from.
That’s the actual practice. I will never say “good animal, bad animal,” case closed. it’s all about finding out why the story got told, and by who.
Half the time the fear was never really about the animal in the first place.
Okay, so how do you actually work with this
Here’s where it stops being trivia and starts being useful.
Bats live at the threshold, no I mean literally, not just spiritually.They emerge at dusk, the exact moment between day and night, which is the actual liminal hour, the one witches have worked with for as long as witches have existed, and bats are the animal that owns it. If you're doing any kind of threshold work, like closing a chapter, moving, ending a relationship, banishing something, starting the version of yourself that comes after this one, then dusk is your window, and a bat sighting during it is more than a cute coincidence, think of it as confirmation you're standing exactly where the work happens. Correspondence wise: bat pairs with anything liminal space work, cave/underworld imagery, black candles, and, because of the echolocation, sound based divination specifically. Bells, chimes, even your own voice.
A simple echolocation working, if you want one to actually do:Go somewhere dark and quiet at dusk, try for an outside if you can, a dark room if you can’t. Ask your question out loud, once, clearly. Then stop talking and count to sixty in silence. Whatever crosses your mind, whatever sound reaches you, whatever thought lands first when the sixty seconds is up, that’s your answer coming back. The point is not meditating for clarity, you’re pinging the dark and reading what returns, the same way the animal does. This is a genuinely good working for anyone who freezes up doing tarot or scrying because they feel like they need to “see” something, this one doesn’t ask you to see, it asks you to listen.
For banishing inherited fear specifically:write down the fear on paper: something you’re scared of that you suspect isn’t actually yours to carry, an inherited superstition, a “everyone just knows this is bad” belief you never actually tested. Underneath it, write where you think it actually came from. Then burn it at dusk, and as it burns, say something like: “This story isn’t mine. I release what I didn’t choose to carry.” Bats work here specifically because they’re proof the method work, an entire continent feared them for a thousand years over a threat that didn’t exist yet. If that fear could get planted and outlive its own logic for centuries, so can the smaller ones you’re carrying. Naming the fear’s actual origin, out loud, is the first real crack in it.
Go make peace with something that scares you for no reason, I’ll see you down my next rabbit hole.
References
Popol Vuh (trans. Dennis Tedlock) — Camazotz and the House of Bats
Ovid, Metamorphoses (the Minyades’ transformation into bats)
Terese Tse Bartholomew, Hidden Meanings: Symbolism in Chinese Art (bat and fu symbolism)
Axel-Ivar Berglund, Zulu Thought-Patterns and Symbolism (amadlozi and ancestor cosmology)
Bram Stoker, Dracula (1897)
National Geographic / Smithsonian resources on bat biology, echolocation, and ecology
Gale, Jenn, (2026) How many people have gotten rabies from bats? - The Institute for Environmental Research and Education
The Butterfly Knows When It's Time to Leave
I’ve been seeing SO many butterflies lately and it got me thinking about its symbolism: transformation. There is something about butterflies that I keep coming back to whenever I think about transformation.
We tend to focus on the pretty part: The wings, the colors, and the moment it finally flies off. We rarely talk about everything that had to happen before that.
A butterfly has to leave one form of existence entirely.
The caterpillar cannot remain a caterpillar and become a butterfly at the same time. Its entire life has to change. And I think humans struggle with this part of transformation because we want to bring everything with us.
Every relationship, plan, identity, etc. But if you pay attention the butterfly doesn't get that option.
Metamorphosis is a complete reorganization
A butterfly's life cycle consists of four stages: egg, larva, pupa, and adult. The caterpillar spends its larval stage eating and growing. Eventually, it enters the pupal stage, where its body undergoes dramatic restructuring as adult structures develop. The chrysalis isn't a cute decorative little sleeping bag, the chrysalis is where the transformation happens. From the outside, you cannot see the finished butterfly, the wings developing and you cannot tell what the buttefly will look like when it emergies. You only see the shell.
That has always felt significant to me. There are periods in life where you have to trust a transformation you cannot show anyone yet.
The spiritual symbolism of the butterfly
Butterflies have carried spiritual and cultural symbolism for thousands of years. In ancient Greek thought, psychē was associated with both the soul and the butterfly. Butterfly imagery became connected with the soul, particularly the idea of the soul leaving the body. The mythological figure Psyche is famously depicted with butterfly wings. The symbolism makes sense when you look at the insect itself.
One form ends. Another emerges.
The butterfly became an incredibly natural symbol for the soul, death, rebirth, release, and transformation. Other cultures developed their own meanings. In Mesoamerican traditions, butterfly imagery could be associated with death, regeneration, fire, warriors, fertility, and the soul. In Chinese symbolism, butterflies have been associated with joy, love, marriage, and longevity.
There isn't one universal meaning. That's important.
The butterfly has meant different things to different people because people have been observing the same extraordinary transformation and interpreting it through their own cultures.
Sometimes transformation means losing people
This is the part I have been sitting with lately: When you change, the relationships around you can change too.You may realize that something you once built your identity around no longer fits. You may recognize that a partnership has reached its natural ending. You may realize that continuing to hold onto something would require you to keep being a version of yourself you've already outgrown.
And that can be incredibly difficult.
Especially when the other person doesn't experience the ending the way you do. One person can experience an ending as necessary growth while another experiences it as rejection. One person can think, “I need to go in a different direction.” The other can hear, “You weren't good enough.”
Those are two completely different experiences of the same event. You cannot control which story someone chooses to tell themselves about your transformation. You can, however, control whether you remain honest with yourself.
The chrysalis doesn't negotiate with the caterpillar
This is probably my favorite part of the metaphor: The caterpillar doesn't sit inside the chrysalis wondering whether it should go back. It doesn't emerge halfway and try to maintain its old identity just in case someone misses it.
The transformation happens. And eventually, the butterfly has to leave. There is a point where staying inside the old form is no longer possible.
I think we as humans reach those points too. There are moments when your intuition becomes so loud that continuing exactly as you have been becomes more uncomfortable than changing. That's usually when people start calling themselves confused. You're not always confused though, sometimes you’re just grieving. There is a difference.
You can grieve something and still leave it
This is one of the most important things I've learned about transformation.
You can miss something and still know it needed to end. You can love what something gave you and still know you cannot continue it. You can appreciate a chapter and refuse to write another page. You can mourn the version of your future you imagined while building something completely different.
None of that makes your transformation less real.
And transformation can make people uncomfortable
When you change, people who were comfortable with the old version of you may not understand what you're doing. They may take your boundaries personally, interpret your growth as rejection, decide your decision says something about them, or maybe they become angry that you are no longer participating in a dynamic that once worked for them.
That can hurt. Especially when you genuinely wanted an ending to remain peaceful. But another person's reaction does not automatically mean your transformation was wrong.
Would you consider a butterfly leaving the chrysalis an attack on the chrysalis? No, it has just reached the point where it cannot stay there anymore.
There is a difference between destruction and release
I think this distinction has become incredibly important to me. Walking away doesn't require hatred and leaving doesn't require revenge. You can release something without trying to ruin it. You can choose yourself without needing someone else to become the villain.
That is a much harder form of transformation.
It requires restraint, discernment, and it requires knowing what is yours to carry and what is yours to leave behind.
The butterfly doesn't take the chrysalis with it
The butterfly cannot take the chrysalis along for sentimental reasons, it has to leave it behind. That doesn't make the chrysalis meaningless. The chrysalis was necessary for the transformation, it was part of the process. But it was never supposed to become the butterfly's permanent home.
And I think there are things in our lives that work exactly like that.
People, places, relationships, friendships, identies, new jobs, verisons of ourselves.
They can be important without being permanent.
Maybe that's what transformation actually asks of us
To recognize when something has finished doing what it came here to do. Then let it go.
The butterfly doesn't spend its life apologizing for leaving the chrysalis. So why should you? There is a moment when you realize that staying where you were simply because someone else is uncomfortable with your departure would mean abandoning the person you are becoming.
I don't want to do that anymore.
I think there are times when the most spiritual thing you can do is honor the transformation that is already happening inside you. Even when other people don't understand it (especially when people don’t understand it). The butterfly doesn't need permission to become a butterfly.
Neither do you.
Blue Jays: Messengers of the Threshold.
Blue jays have long been seen as loud, clever, mischievous beings but in folklore, they are threshold guardians, truth‑speakers, and keepers of hidden pathways between the seen and unseen worlds.
The Trickster in Blue Feathers
In many traditions, the jay is a trickster spirit: bold, curious, and unafraid to stir the pot. Their sharp calls are said to cut through illusion, revealing what is real beneath what is comfortable. When a blue jay appears, it often signals that truth is about to surface, whether welcomed or not.
A Voice That Cannot Be Silenced
Blue jays are known for their vocal power, and folklore treats this as symbolic. Their call is a reminder:
to speak your truth, even when others prefer silence
to protect your boundaries, loudly if needed
to claim your space without apology
Some say the jay teaches us that the voice is a spell (one that shapes reality.)
Guardians of the Forest Veil
Blue jays are fiercely protective, and in myth they are guardians of the forest’s secrets. Their bright color is said to mark them as watchers of the liminal spaces: the edges of woods, the borders of home, the places where magic gathers.
They are believed to:
warn travelers of danger
guide wanderers back to the path
carry messages between realms
A jay calling from the trees may be a sign that something is watching over you.
Bearers of Hidden Wisdom
Because jays hide and store food, folklore ties them to memory, foresight, and preparation. They remind us to plan ahead, to trust our instincts, and to keep sacred things tucked away until the right moment.
A Companion for the Bold
If a blue jay visits you repeatedly, many traditions say it’s a spirit ally urging you to:
embrace your cleverness
stay curious
challenge what feels stagnant
step into your power
The blue jay is not a gentle guide, it is a catalyst. A spark. A dare.
Blue Jay Wildlife Education:
Blue jays (Cyanocitta cristata) are one of the most recognizable birds in North America, known for their vivid blue plumage, loud calls, and remarkable intelligence. Despite their reputation for being noisy or aggressive, they play a vital ecological role and show complex behaviors that make them fascinating subjects to study.
Color Created by Light, Not Pigment
A blue jay’s feathers aren’t actually blue. Their color comes from structural coloration, aka, tiny microscopic structures scatter light in a way that makes them appear blue. If you crush a jay feather, the “blue” disappears.
Highly Intelligent and Social
Blue jays belong to the corvid family, which includes crows and ravens. as we know these are some of the smartest birds on Earth.
They are known for:
problem solving skills
long term memory, especially for food storage
tool use in some observed cases
complex social communication
They can even mimic hawk calls to deter predators or manipulate other birds.
Forest Engineers
Blue jays are major contributors to forest regeneration. They gather and bury acorns, often forgetting some of their caches. These forgotten seeds germinate and grow into new trees. Jays have been credited with helping expand oak forests after the last Ice Age.
Diet and Behavior
Blue jays are omnivores. Their diet includes:
nuts and seeds
insects
fruits
occasionally small vertebrates or eggs
Their assertive behavior at feeders is part of their natural territorial instincts, but they also cooperate within their social groups, especially when warning others of predators.
Communication Experts
Blue jays use a wide range of vocalizations and body signals. Their calls can indicate alarm, location, social status, or even mimicry. They are one of the most vocal species in their range.
Nesting and Family Life
Jays form monogamous pairs and build nests in trees or shrubs. Both parents participate in raising their young, and family groups often stay together for extended periods.
A Species Worth Appreciating
Far from being “just noisy birds,” blue jays are intelligent, adaptable, and ecologically essential. Their behaviors help shape forests, protect other species, and maintain balance in their ecosystems.
Welcome to the Wild.
Hi!
I’m Sierra, the Mystical Botanist.
I created this space to be a deeply trusted resource for the people who are looking to reconnect with nature, learn about plants, and bring more intention and magic into their everyday lives.
I have always loved working with plants in every way possible. Gardening, foraging, growing herbs, learning their history, using them medicinally, working with their spiritual properties… Basically, if there is a way to connect with a plant, chances are I’m probably doing it.
Plants have so much to teach us. They carry stories, traditions, folklore, and generations of knowledge that deserve to be remembered and respected. My goal is to share that knowledge in a way that feels approachable, practical, and rooted in a real relationship with nature.
I’m also a practical witch. I love the magic in everyday life: the little rituals, the small moments of intention, and finding meaning in the things we already do. But don’t get me wrong… I will absolutely still make an elaborate ritual when the occasion calls for it. There is room for both the simple and the ceremonial.
I also have ADHD, and while I don’t use that as an excuse, I have learned to work with the way my brain naturally moves. My practice reflects that. It’s creative, curious, ever changing, and full of following the sparks of inspiration that come through.
Around here, you’ll find all kinds of things: herb knowledge, folklore, rituals, practical witchcraft, plant stories, bird symbolism, and the deeper meanings we can find in the natural world around us.
Nature has always fascinated me, especially the misunderstood parts of it. The animals people fear, the plants people overlook, the creatures that have been given unfair reputations. I love looking deeper, learning their stories, and showing the beauty behind the things we often misunderstand.
Most importantly, this space is about curiosity, connection, and being unapologetically yourself. I’m here to share what I learn, what I love, and the strange little wonders that make this world feel magical.
Welcome to my corner of the wild, where you never know what I’m going to talk about next.