under that barricade." We proceeded to do just that. One of the keynotes of Glen's life was to bypass barricades—to find ways to get around (or under) those things that stood in the way of his progress. A mere steel plate, fortunately, was not about to deter his appointed round of bat collection.
Once in the zinc mine, which had been carved from solid granite, we found it was exceptionally clean, free of any human debris and filled with cool air. Outside it was a hot July day, but inside the mine it was cool enough to require jackets and gloves. When we had walked about half a mile or so into the mine we began to see clusters of bats hanging from the ceiling. Our plan was to acquire a few bats with which to start our experiments. At this point we had little idea about the anatomy of the bat's ear and reasoned that surgical practice would be required. Upon surveying the clusters of bats Glen suggested that possibly a cluster might represent some sort of family, social or community organization, and that we should take only one bat from each cluster and thus produce as little disturbance as possible to any social organization the bats might have. That is yet another example of how Glen Wever's mind and sensitivity worked.
We returned to Princeton, and the next day began working on the bats. The first thing we discovered was that we had very few surgical tools small enough to be effective with a bat, whose total body weight was 7 grams. In our initial surgical effort I managed to drop a pair of fine pointed jeweler's forceps, which bent one tine so that it laid over the other tine. Glen looked at what I thought was now a useless tool and said, "I bet you have just made a pair of scissors adequate for bat surgery." He was correct; those bent forceps became the mainstay in our subsequent bat surgeries. Investigation of the electrophysiological aspects