Bat Man

Last night, while Jonathon and I watched one of our favorite old sports movies, something circled overhead.

For those who have read this blog for awhile, you know what it was.

A bat.

bat.jpg

We ducked as it lapped the family room, circling lower and lower. We scooted out of the room pronto.

“Seriously?” Jonathon said, frustration in his voice.¬† “How did the bat even get in?”

No idea. Well, we had a couple of ideas, but did it really matter? No.

Zac, startled from his video game by our rush into the living room, helped us out by Googling how to get bats out of your living space.

“Open all the doors and windows. Bats have excellent echo-location and should be able to find the exits. Or put on heavy gloves and trap them in a tupperware container.”

I looked at Jonathon. He shook his head, face grim.

“You can also cover them with a blanket. Remember, bats have delicate wings and they break easily, ” Zac went on, reading off his phone.

“They will fight back if cornered.”

Great. Didn’t mention the carrying rabies part. Yes, I know bats eat insects and do good things for the environment. I just don’t want to share a living space with them.

We sat and contemplated our navels for awhile, chatting about this and that. Then, since we couldn’t find the bat after searching the family room again, we resumed our movie.

But it wasn’t gone. It surfaced from the curtains and flew around the room again. Like a bad movie, we ran out again.

Now what?

We wanted to finish our movie and go to bed. By this time, it was way after 10:00 p.m. I had practically turned into a pumpkin. Emboldened by the late hour and the need to evict the visitor, we started banging on things and peeking behind furniture. No winged mammal.

“I see him!”

Jonathon found the critter on the back of the curtains. He lifted the 10-foot curtain rod off its holder gently. He eased it up and out of the room. I spotted the bat, tiny now in repose, clinging for life to the back of the curtain. Jonathon tossed the curtains, rod and all, out in the carport. The bat unfurled its claws and crawled away.

I only noticed  bats the other night, looking up into a blueberry sky as the daylight faded. What looked like large insects flew back and forth from the laurel hedge on the edge of our property. I told Ruby about them.

“Oooh! Everything has its cute face,” she said.

I felt a little sorry for the bat, despite the creepy factor. It got lost, somehow, and soared into another creature’s home. It got confused. The bat didn’t know the way out. We all get lost sometimes, wandering into places we truly shouldn’t go. Hopefully, some kindly stranger will help us find the nearest exit.

 

 

 

 

 

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