DATELINE: PHILIPSTOWN
NOT too long ago, hundreds of men would regularly troop down into the deep, inky reaches of Philips Mine here to collect iron ore, copper and even uranium. Today, it's all about bats.

The 200-year-old mine sits on a patch of land near the Appalachian Trail, and its 800-foot peaks afford incomparable views of the Hudson Highlands. No wonder, then, that as soon as the opportunity arose, the Open Space Institute, a nonprofit land conservation group bought the 37-acre parcel in 1999 with the notion of saving it from development and, ultimately, turning it over to hikers.

But first, there was the matter of the gaping mine shafts. They were dark. They were mysterious. And they had been inviting to generations of children and unwise fun seekers. Neighbors remember youngsters paddling across an underground pond deep in the mine; some say two children crawled in once, and one never came out.

For safety's sake, the Open Space Institute had to find a way to close the mine openings, known as adits. The trick was to seal the caves without harming the bats, snakes and other creatures.

Enter Roy Powers, an engineering professor from Big Stone Gap, Va., whose summertime career is building grates that close caves to humans while permitting small animals to come and go at will. He is the director of the American Cave Conservation Association, and last month he was at work on the mine shafts in Philipstown.

"I like bats," Mr. Powers said simply of his work. He is a taciturn man, gruff and matter-of-fact about the naturalist aspects of his undertaking. "I like everything related to caves and karst -- crayfish and salamanders and all kinds of things," he said. "

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Copyright 2000 The New York Times Company

SECTION: Section 14WC; Page 5; Column 1; Westchester Weekly Desk
LENGTH: 1009 words

HEADLINE: ENVIRONMENT;